[ Roy calls him Prince Prick and-- yeah, alright. Maybe he will let the topic slide off when not sure he's even ready to touch it, when it's easier to snort a pleased laugh to himself about the stupid nickname that's stuck and be tugged along on the sharpest conversation detour he's ever seen that ends in fucking vanilla vodka of all things.
Sometimes Jamie can't tell if Roy is bad at being subtle or if he himself is just too good at reading into shit that isn't even there. Roy called him a child the last time he thought Jamie was drinking it, but then he remembered, didn't he, enough to think that maybe Jamie would want it again, and now Jamie has a gift waiting for him wrapped in an invitation that he's been looking forward to all day.
Fuck. ]
wow i'm touched
might be a bit late. keeley's got us doing that shoot for the nandos thing and the lads are going fucking mental about it so
[ Roy still thinks Jamie is a child for drinking it, but he's long accepted Jamie has terrible taste. After all, he's choosing to jeopardize his entire football career by fucking Roy (granted, Roy would be the one in trouble more than Jamie, but Roy would take all the blame to protect him.) ]
nandos is overrated. don't know why the boys are creaming themselves over it other than the fact that they get free fucking chicken and chips.
you can go out with the boys after the shoot if you want. they'll probably ask you to.
[ He doesn't want Jamie to feel like he has to choose him. He's trying to be less clingy after his relationship with Keeley. ]
knew you were more of a maccas man. colin owes me 50 quid
[ It's funny how quickly the valleys can come after the peaks in his mood, because he almost bristles immediately at the knee-jeek assumption Roy is giving him permission to go out, like Jamie needed to fucking ask in the first place, only...that's not right, isn't it?
He reads it again, and just barely manages to keep from doing something stupid as he winds himself back down. ]
yeah i could. if i wanted
you craving anything? i were gonna stop off on the way since they'll have me half starved by the time we're through
[ He doesn't even like KFC but when it comes to anything other than football, he gets a kick out of watching him lose. The smug prick can't win all the time. ]
anything other than you?
[ He can't believe he just typed that but he's already said enough dumb shit tonight, he might as well go for gold. ]
[ Jamie sends a photo through first; only part of his face in frame, that usual smug upward little curl pulling at the corners of his mouth even with it open, his tongue out and one middle finger pressed to the center of it, just for Roy. ]
pretty enough you think?
maybe i'll think about letting you pick which part of me you get to eat first
[ It's a little shit answer for a little shit habit, but it's also the truth, mostly. He's been doing it long enough now that he doesn't even know when it started and, sometimes, he doesn't even know he's doing it until he's doing it, but he knows people either love it or hate it and if they hate it it's usually the point. ]
ain't my fault you think the only depth i got is in my arsehole. you should really work on that
yeah why not? ain't like you haven't seen all of me already
[ Plus he can think of so many worse things than Roy zeroing in all of his unbearably intense direction solely on Jamie like he's the only thing in the fucking world worth looking at, and fuck, if he holds onto that thought too long he's going to make this Nando's shoot uncomfortable. ]
not sure you'll be able to keep your fucking hands to yourself long enough to get anywhere first though
nah fuck off. i don't think you got it in you. you like making me do what you want too much. it'll drive you fucking mad just sitting back to watch me get off however i want to
bet i don't even get three fingers in before you break.
[ The shoot goes well, obviously, even if Jamie is more than a little distracted for most of it. The camera loves him though, and Jamie has always loved it back enough to preen under a lense without much prompting required so yeah it's good, it's great, and if he's antsy waiting for it to finish, bouncing on his heels and stretching out the bottom of his kit by balling and unballing his fists up inside of it while the others have their turns, well, then, that's just his business, isn't it?
No one says anything, at least, but that's probably because they're used to Jamie fidgeting around in the lulls between activity, all his pent up energy coming out in little bursts until he can actually do something about it. They do ask him to come out with them after just like Roy thought they would, excited and eager as if a Nandos sponsorship is AFC Richmond's biggest win yet(which Jamie expected), and they all share the same annoying knowing look between themselves when Jamie declines with the vague excuse that he has something to take care of(which Jamie resolutely fucking ignores). There's no way they actually know, because insane sexting fantasies aside Roy and Jamie act the way they always have with each other at work, but the way Sam had been smiling at him when he finally threw his phone in his bag to prep for the shoot means that there's no way they don't know his something to take care of is really a someone.
They're good lads, though, and so they let him off the hook with only a little ribbing about it, threatening to make him make good on his promise of next time or else, and Jamie only feels a little bad about the fact that he can't get the fuck away fast enough to high tail it to where he really wants to be.
He does stop for food on the way even though he's not really thinking about eating, as if that might prove to himself that he's not as embarrassingly desperate and eager as he actually feels to be back around Roy again, like he's been away from the man for days and not just a few fucking hours, christ, and he lets himself into Roy's house with the key that he still sometimes has a hard time believing actually lives on his keyring to use whenever he wants.
His skin is buzzing a little, partly because he'd been thinking about their texts again on the way over, but mostly because that's just what happens lately whenever Jamie knows he's about to get to spend the night greedily soaking in all of the other man's attention all for himself.
Fuck, that's pathetic.
He kicks off his shoes at the door and calls out: ]
You better not be asleep already, you fucking antique.
Jamie is only the reason he ever stays up past 10 PM. He tends to be wide awake when Jamie is around for obvious reasons, but when Jamie isn't with him, he usually just goes to bed early, ready for another day of football (football really is life for Roy, but lately life is football and Jamie).
While Jamie was busy getting photographed, Roy was having a hard time concentrating on anything at home. He's definitely looking forward to seeing Jamie later, but every time he checks the clock to see how much time has passed, it's like time is slowing down to fuck with him. He'd tried to read, tried watching a movie, tried watching Richmond's last match - but that last choice proved to be a big mistake. He'd been trying not to think about Jamie like some obsessive freak, but what he'd ended up doing was replaying Jamie's goals over and over with his hand down his shorts.
He can't believe he's using footy matches as porn to wank off to Jamie Tart. What the fuck has become of him?
But back to Roy being asleep - the sound of the front door slamming shut is what wakes Roy up with a start. For a second he thinks he's about to be burgled and is ready to fuck up said burglar until he remembers he gave Jamie a key. He'd fallen asleep on the sofa, but he's not going to give Jamie the satisfaction of being right, so he suddenly sits up, grabs The Da Vinci Code from the coffee table and pretends like he's been reading. Of course, all the signs are there that he's been snoozing, from the patch of drool on his shirt, to his slightly touseled hair, to the sleep still in his eyes. ]
For your fucking information, I've been reading my book. [ That would probably be more believable if he wasn't holding said book upside down. ]
How'd it go? Did they make you spill a bottle of peri-peri sauce on yourself? [ That's supposed to be a joke but his cock actually twitches at the thought of shirtless Jamie covered in sauce. God help him if he starts using Nando ads of Jamie to wank off to next. ]
[ Roy is a shit liar, but that's not exactly news. Jamie doesn't mind so much when it means he looks like he does now, sleepy and warm and with the hair on one side of his head doing something supremely fucking stupid from being mashed into a pillow, all of it enough to make Jamie want to kiss him so bad it's actually driving him a little mad. ]
Yeah, sure. Upside down ciphers this time, is it?
[ Roy taught him what a cipher was, so it only seems fair Jamie gets to use that newfound knowledge to make fun of him as he swans his way into Roy's living room, annoyingly smug. He leaves a trail of things as he goes-- his bag dropped onto a little table as he crosses into the room, his favorite puffer vest unzipped and thrown over the chair he's sucked Roy off in more times than he can count anymore -- until he's close enough to knock the book out of Roy's hands, cheeky without shame.
He's in a good mood, although photographers telling him how good he looks for hours on end does tend to have that effect on him, and Jamie's grinning as he makes himself comfortable, kneeling up onto the couch to swing himself right into Roy's lap, careful as always about his shit knee as he settles himself in place like it's a throne that he owns. ]
It was good, yeah. Had to cut the sauce shot, though. [ The problem with being this close to Roy is that Jamie never really knows where to start on him, never sure what part of Roy he wants to touch the most. He still wants to kiss him but he also wants to keep being a shit, and so he splits the difference by pressing his face into Roy's throat to breath him in a little, sinking into the other man's chest, talking against his skin. ] Didn't want the other lads to feel bad about themselves tryin' to keep up after I would'a looked that fucking amazing.
[ And then he bites, just a little, just a tease, mostly because he can't fucking help himself. ] But they let me take a bottle. You know, in case you needed something to eat off me arse later.
[ Roy can't decide if he regrets teaching Jamie new words or not. On the one hand, it's hot how much Jamie actually listens to him, particularly when he talks about whatever book he's reading. Keeley was never really that interested because she had more important shit to do, which was fair enough, but Jamie always pays attention to him when he's talking about the plot of a book like he's listening to the fucking news.
It can, however, get annoying when Jamie uses the new words he's learned against Roy. And also when he uses those new words in a completely incorrect way, like when he told Roy to go ciper himself. It doesn't matter that it made Roy laugh and that's exactly why Jamie said it. It doesn't matter that Roy replied I'll cipher you and they'd gotten naked shortly after. It's still annoying that Jamie knows exactly how to make him laugh, like he's completely cracked the cipher to Roy's humour. ]
Oi— [ It's a half-hearted oi, his book falling to the floor while Jamie takes his rightful place on his lap, and he can't complain. Even if it hurt his knee, he wouldn't complain. He'd put up with it simply to have Jamie close.
His hands cup Jamie's hips, looking down through his lashes to watch Jamie be his usual cocktease self. He remembers a time when he found Jamie's confidence unbearable, mostly because he made other people feel like shit in the process. Nowadays if Jamie said anything negative about himself, Roy would be arguing just how amazing he is. So it's a good thing he hears Jamie talk about himself like he's the sexiest person in the room because Roy agrees. He's the sexiest person in every room. ]
Fuck. [ His cock perks right up under Jamie, fingers digging into his hips, and he's glad they haven't started the challenge they were talking about earlier yet. He cups the nape of Jamie's neck and draws his face back so he can meet Roy's eyes. ]
Don't tell me you want me to use it as lube? [ He's smirking, obviously winding him up. His hand travels to Jamie's jaw. ] Come here, you filthy poser. [ He wants a kiss and he's not waiting any longer for it. ]
[ Roy thinks he might love Keeley (just not in that way anymore) for getting him to Brazil without any complications. He'd sent her a text saying I need your help surprising Jamie, and under half an hour, she's organised him flight tickets, his hotel (the same as Jamie's, booked under a fake name) and even transport. It's insane how good she is at her job. She sends him a "have fun with jamie 😘" text which suggests she probably knows there's something going on between them, but he's running on too much adrenaline to care. Besides, he's got to pack up his shit before he flies.
He comes up with a plan that should help him go unnoticed by the public. Everyone who knows who he is knows he only wears dark heathered charcoal (i.e. black). He's instantly recognizable by his wardrobe, particularly his trademark leather jacket. So he brings nothing black, apart from underwear, and chooses the most ridiculous outfit he can come up with to travel in.
Miraculously, it works. Nobody bats an eye at him when he's at the airport. He blends in with all the other stupidly dressed holidaymakers. Why the fuck didn't he dress like an idiot sooner?
It's a long flight from London and he only gets about an hour's kip because he's so nervous he's made a mistake and Jamie will think he's the clingiest man he's ever met to follow him to fucking Brazil, even if Jamie wanted him there in the first place.
Knowing what room is Jamie's thanks to Keeley, he knocks on his door and waits. What Jamie will be greeted by is a bearded man wearing a familiar tie-dye shirt, red joggers, a bucket hat with a smiley face on it, and a pair of sunglasses. He has no idea if Jamie is even in his room or not. He might be working, lounging by the pool, or even flirting with hot Brazilians his own age.
Suddenly he has an image of a Brazilian model Jamie is fucking opening the door and looks the complete opposite of the smiley on his hat, frowning to himself. ]
[ It's not been a bad trip so far, if he's honest, even if the first few days were spent being so busy it didn't really feel all that different than any other non-match, non-training work day he usually has. Keeley had tagged along as promised, the perfect picture of a PR Boss Babe as she made sure everything was above board and that Jamie didn't stick his foot too far into his mouth for the spotlight interviews the Nike reps wanted him for. There was a lot of fluff work after that, enough b-roll of him taking shots on goal to make him a little sick of doing it no matter how good he knew they'd look in post-production, and then the actual commercial, which was a whole afternoon just itself. And then there came the few small re-shoots, the still shots in enough branded promo gear to keep him decked out in the trademark swoosh for life if he wanted, a dinner-and-drinks mingle that Keeley came as his plus one to--
And then, just as everything was about to get fun for real, where Jamie was actually going to get to enjoy his vacation with someone he knows how to have a good time with, KJPR has some minor crisis or another that needed Keeley's personal touch to smooth over. She had the audacity to look guilty about it, as if Jamie might hold it against her that she has more important things to do these days than herd around wayward football players to do what she needed them to do, but he knows her too well than to take it personally. Her heart's too big, is the problem, especially with people she cares about, and he loves her for it, truly, no matter how long ago that particular ship sailed away never to make a return trip. So he takes her to the airport himself to see her off, like maybe it'll prove to her that he's just fine in his own, like there aren't worse things than kicking around fucking Brazil of all places alone for a little while, and sends her through the gates with a hug and a kiss to her cheek he won't be surprised to see splashed over the tabloids if they decide they have nothing better to run with.
It is fine, really, only he has no idea what to actually do with himself when neither of the people he wants around are within reach. Clubbing would have been fun with Keeley but seems a little pathetic to do on his own when he knows he'll just end up in the VIP section with a bottle to sip at alone, or, worse, if it means he'll be spending the night fending off advances from strangers he has no desire to actually take home with him. He's not even sure when that happened, when he went from being all too familiar with fun, easy one night stands to his mind only wandering to one specific gruff dickhead whenever he's after company, filthy or not, but, well, here they fucking are, aren't they?
So he relaxes instead. He gets a little lost wandering the city, and spends too much on stupid gifts for his mates from colorful vendor stalls more than happy to charge him a tourist tax for being clearly foreign, and eats all the foods he's not allowed to have when training properly, and runs the length of the beach by his hotel morning and night to make up for it anyway, a little because he can hear Roy in the back of his head yelling at him to get off his arse but mostly because he'd be stupid not to when the view is so good and he's restless, regardless. And he has a few morning lie ins, too, but mostly takes them at the poolside instead, soaking up as much hot Brazilian sun as he can before he has to go back to England, going sun-kissed and golden under the glare, and he needles Roy with cock pics because he doesn't know how to actually say that he fucking misses him, that he does really wish Roy were they even if that's probably stupid, and wonders, maybe, if he ought to just give it up and go home a little early when he's starting to feel more like he's idly running a clock down until his departure date and less like being on a well earned holiday.
He's asking himself that very question when the knock on his door comes-- or, rather, he had been asking himself that question originally, only then he got started thinking about Roy again somewhere in the middle and that always ends with his dick getting hard even when he's not trying for it. He considers ignoring it all together, more interested in palming his cock in a slow tease more than he wants to know what's on the other side, until he remembers that he'd been waiting on a room service order that's going to obliterate his chances of making it for a night run when he's through with it, and heaves himself out of bed with a sigh.
When Jamie answers the door it probably doesn't alleviate whatever fucked up little anxiety nightmare is in Roy's head, because his hair looks a little bed wrecked and he's half-naked again, though at least this time it's the more appropriate half that's covered for receiving an unexpected guest. The shorts he's wearing aren't really helping all the same, thin as they are, and the clear outline of Jamie's half hard prick against the fabric suggests that he's not wearing anything under them, either. His bare shoulders are a little sun-bitten, a hint of red that matches the bit of sunburn across the bridge of his nose, which is probably a lot more comical now when paired with the expression currently on his face like his brain has just stalled out trying to work out what he's seeing with his own two fucking eyes. ]
Fucking hell.
[ It's the only thing that comes to mind, because Jamie isn't sure he's not fucking hallucinating seeing Roy fucking Kent in front of his door dressed in the most outrageous outfit the man could possibly be in and there's no way to think of anything smarter. Try as he might be can't really get over the first bit, that Roy is here. That Roy is here, in Brazil, wearing a look on his face that Jamie doesn't know what to do with, like he's thinking of turning tail and stalking back down the hall, and Jamie knows he needs to say something better than that to make sure Roy doesn't actually bolt. ]
Am I dreaming or are you dressed like Ronald Mc-fucking-Donald?
[ Well, at least he doesn't answer the door wearing only his shirt...
Except maybe the reality is a lot worse. There's a possibility Roy has never seen Jamie look any better than this, even with the bit of a sunburn across his nose. The sunburn makes him look more human, a reminder that he isn't perfect, even if his body looks it half the time, and it's stupidly endearing. His hair looks ridiculous in that way that makes Roy want to run his fingers through it, brushing back those strands out of his eyes. What Jamie is wearing - which is very little - Roy honestly can't tell are meant to be shorts or underwear. If it's not underwear, they should be illegal. And Jamie's semi is enough to make his brain shut down for at least five seconds, glad for the sunglasses he's still wearing (he didn't need to wear them inside but he's technically still incognito) that hide the sudden desire in his eyes to pull down Jamie's shorts, kneel down and suck his cock right in the doorway.
Of course, a hot Brazilian could be responsible for the way Jamie looks, and that's what stops him from grabbing Jamie and kissing him. Instead, in a classic display of Roy Kent behaviour, he shoves Jamie back so there's enough room for him to pass, growling in response to the clown joke because that was only funny when used to describe Ted.
He takes off his sunglasses so he can see better, then proceeds to search Jamie's hotel room. He starts with the bed, pulling the covers off to make sure no one's under there (no Brazilian). He checks out the bathroom, including in the shower (no Brazilian). He checks the balcony (no Brazilian), behind the curtains (no Brazilian) and finally in the wardrobe (still no fucking Brazilian). ]
...No one's here. [ He sounds so confused, his voice rising as it always does when he's having some kind of mental breakdown, which Jamie is usually responsible for. He gets all up in Jamie's face, which isn't at all threatening in his outfit. ] Why the fuck are you alone? Why aren't you shagging fit Brazilians?
[ Jamie thinks Roy is going to kiss him, a little bit.
That's how it always goes in films, isn't it? After all the drama of the person you want to make a big, stupid grand gesture not going through with it, and then they fucking do, standing right there in front of you when you really didn't expect that it would happen, and then they kiss you and probably fuck your brains out after--
Roy just shoves passed him instead, which is both predictable and fucking annoying, even if the way the man growls low in his throat while he does it still makes Jamie's dick twitch a little, anyway. He rolls his eyes, head shaking as he swings the door back shut, and Jamie's mouth is open to deliver little smart-mouthed jab about old people and jet lag when he turns back to face him, only to immediately lose track of the joke when he sees Roy doing...whatever the hell he's fucking doing.
It's like Roy is looking for something, which doesn't make any sense, but he seems intent on pulling Jamie's room apart until he finds it regardless. It's so bizarre that for once Jamie doesn't have anything to say about it, no little shitty quips or sarcastic commentary while he watches the other man work his way through every nook and cranny, and he's still wearing a look of clear, muddy confusion on his face when Roy gets right up into his space to start interrogating him about Brazilians.
It's been a long time since Roy getting in his face like this has triggered the urge to do anything other than bite his mouth or get his hands under Roy's clothes, but threatening is the absolute last thing on Jamie's mind when every fucking word out of Roy's mouth is just making him more confused than he was a second ago. ]
'Course I'm alone. What the fuck are you even talkin' about? [ He is so fucking confused. If Roy had been worried he'd find Keeley in Jamie's room, maybe he could understand that, what with knowing she'd be coming on the trip and all, but this is clearly not that. ] Why would I be shagging Brazilians?
[ Outside of the fact that he's in Brazil, where it's reasonable to suspect most Brazilians would probably be available for said shagging if that's what were happening, and it isn't like they've talked about-- fuck, any of this shit that they're doing, and certainly not in anyway that would invite a discussion about who they are or aren't sleeping with outside of each other. Mostly Jamie really doesn't mind avoiding that conversation, and yeah, maybe it's a little because he doesn't want to deal with whatever tangled up shitty feelings it'll make him feel like to get an answer he doesn't want to get, but-- ] Is that why you're here? To see who I've been fucking on holiday?
[ Why? What kind of stupid fucking question is that? He can't believe he has to spell it out to Jamie. ]
Because you're Jamie fucking Tartt! [ He answers like he shouldn't have to say anything more than that, but Jamie is looking at him like he has no idea what the fuck that even means, and if he doesn't explain himself, he might actually punch Roy. In the dick. ]
Jamie, you're in a country full of people who look just like you - hot and sunkissed - who want to fuck you for your accent, not in spite of it. You're young and horny enough to have jacuzzi sex on shitty reality television - which, yes, I fucking watched every episode of, but only because my friends at yoga made me, and it was actually fun to watch something that requires no brain power with a glass of rosé. [ He can't believe he just admitted any of that to Jamie. Also, who says 'television' and not 'TV'? Old people like Roy. ]
You shouldn't only be fucking some grumpy old bastard back in London who had to turn to coaching because that's the closest he'll ever get to a football pitch again in his pathetic life. [ He forces a laugh, like his insecurities are something to make light of, but when Jamie doesn't laugh with him, when there's nothing but dead silence from him, he gets this sick feeling in his stomach. It's the feeling he gets when he knows he's fucked up. ]
Shit, no, I'm not checking up on you, I swear. I'm here because—
[ And this is when he's interrupted by a knock. Room service, one of the hotel staff says on the other side of Jamie's door. Roy ignores it and tries again. ]
Because—
[ Room service! ]
Because I—
[ ROOM SERVICE! ]
Fuck! [ Roy yells out of frustration and slides his sunglasses back on (he seems to think wearing them makes him invisible to the public). He almost yanks the door from its hinges in his annoyance to open it. Apparently Jamie has ordered so much food it's on a trolley that has to be wheeled into the room, and Roy throws Jamie an incredulous look. Three fucking courses?
And then the member of staff looks expectantly at Roy for a tip. ]
Jesus Christ. [ He gets out his wallet with a sigh and shoves a generous amount of money into the man's hand. ] Excuse my muppet of a boyfriend's manners for not tipping you himself.
[ He doesn't even realize he let the word boyfriend slip, but there sure is a lot for Jamie to unpack once they're alone again. ]
[ Jamie isn't sure what he expected to get in response to his questions but it wasn't...all of that. He's learning fast that sometimes the only thing to do when Roy is keyed up and stressed out is to let him just get it all out, like he's puking his guts up after a bad night out and the purge after is inevitable if he wants to find even ground again, and Jamie is nothing if not well fucking versed in keeping his mouth shut and his body still while he weathers through the worst of someone else's verbal onslaught--
It ain't really like that, though. Not with Roy. If Jamie is quiet while Roy goes off, it's because he's actually listening to the words coming out of the man's mouth, rapidly trying to put the pieces together even when it feels a little like they're falling too fast for Jamie to catch them, and if he doesn't move it's probably because the only place Jamie wants to be is here, in front of him, taking it all in. He doesn't laugh at that barb Roy turns in against himself, and a deep crease furrows in between Jamie's eyebrows in the wake of it instead, mouth tight. ]
Roy--
[ The knock at the door startles the hell out of him, making him jump, and Jamie thumps his hand to his heart a little theatrically while he swears for it because he'd completely even forgot he fucking ordered anything. He ignores Roy's dirty look as the trolley comes in, still trying to work out what the fuck he was even preparing to say before they'd been interrupted, lost somewhere between Roy admitting he'd watched Jamie voluntarily on that stupid show and the way Jamie wanted to punch him in the chest for talking down on himself the way he had been, and then it's just one word, boyfriend, that slams into Jamie's brain like a bolt of lightning.
If the bloke who'd brought the food notices anything strange, his face doesn't show it. Maybe it's not strange, for someone to call someone else their boyfriend. Maybe he doesn't even know who they are to know that it is strange, almost fucking impossible, for that word to fall out of Roy's mouth. Maybe he just doesn't fucking care because he works in a stupid posh hotel full of stupid rich posh dickheads and this probably isn't even close to the weirdest thing he's seen today. Whatever it is, he leaves the second he gets his tip, the door snapping securely shut behind him, and Jamie realizes he's staring at Roy like he's been sucker punched. ]
Did you just-- Wait, what did you--
[ What is he even saying? Christ, was his heart always in his throat? ]
What did you just say?
[ Jamie can hear it in his own voice that he sounds a little like he thinks he's stroked out and didn't hear what he thought he heard. ]
Not the-- not the fucking muppet part. The other part.
[ Because he can already hear Roy's voice in his head answering, I called you a fucking muppet, fuck off and if Roy actually says that Jamie really will hit him. ]
[ Roy really doesn't like it when he has to repeat himself, and he fixes Jamie with a glare at first, a for fuck's sake on the tip of his tongue. Then Jamie repeats a specific word Roy has never, ever used to describe another man - at least not in the context of belonging to him, which is what "my muppet of a boyfriend" implies - until this very moment in a hotel in Brazil with someone he flew the other side of the world to be with.
Not often is Roy speechless from a conversation with Jamie. They've always had consistent banter, even back when they were sworn enemies, and Roy will always try to come up with a comeback, no matter how stupid.
But he can't make a joke out of this - because it's not. He fucking called Jamie his boyfriend and it came out of his mouth so easily because Jamie falls right into that category. They spend every day together, every night together, every day off together. He does everything he used to do for Keeley with Jamie - cooks him meals, watches shows Jamie loves but he hates, lets Jamie blast his music in his car, fucks his brains out - except what pushed Keeley away doesn't seem to bother Jamie at all. Roy never bothered giving Jamie any space because he never viewed what they had as an actual relationship he could potentially lose...
Until now. It's suddenly very fucking apparent that they're not shagging each other purely just for fun or out of boredom or loneliness anymore. It's become so much more than that.
Rain pours outside of nowhere - he can hear it hammering against the windows - and a flash of lightning streaks across the room from the balcony doors. He feels it deep in his bones, and if there was ever a sign that he needs to listen to his heart right now, this has to be it. ]
Fuuuuck. [ Wide-eyed, Roy looks like a deer caught in headlights, like he might just throw himself off the balcony at any moment. Instead, he strides straight over to the mini-bar in Jamie's room and helps himself to - surprisingly, not alcohol, but a bottle of water. This choice is intentional knowing what he knows about Jamie's dad. He doesn't want to be another man in Jamie's life who uses alcohol as a coping mechanism, and he certainly doesn't want Jamie to think he needs to get shitfaced at the idea of Jamie being his boyfriend. He just needs water to calm his nerves because his hands are visibly shaking.
He didn't check what kind of water it was though - sparkling - and Roy pulls a face after swallowing it down. ]
Ted's right - sparkling water is shit. [ He puts the bottle down, takes one look at Jamie still waiting for an answer from him and closes the distance between them. It's time to be fucking accountable. ]
I'm sorry for yelling at you about shagging Brazilians. [ He pauses to brush a couple of strands of hair out of Jamie's eyes, and his fingers are still shaking a little because he's so fucking nervous he's fucked a good arrangement with Jamie by putting a label on it, one they can't even use in public. Calling Jamie his boyfriend in private is good enough for him because as far as he's concerned, what they have is nobody's fucking business, and he doesn't want the press poisoning it by making it seedier than it actually is. ]
Sorry I'm not sorry I called you my boyfriend. [ He lifts his chin a little at that, bracing himself for a fight, waiting for Jamie to choose violence than ever accept being Roy Kent's boyfriend. ]
Jamie is dead fucking sure of it. Roy is going to walk it back, and say he didn't mean it or that Jamie should just fucking drop it, and Jamie will, of course he will, even if it feels like twisting a knife to do it. The rest of it doesn't really matter much when this isn't really something they can actually fucking afford, not when they're already constantly under fire by the press just for being footballers, hunted by paps for the perfect tabloid money shot and viciously picked apart by anyone with internet access that fancies themselves an expert, and everyone, everyone knows that putting a label on a good thing can ruin it faster than anything else. Jamie's greedy but not actually stupid, most of the time, because this is a good thing, better than anything he would have fucking thought he'd be able to swing when he came back to AFC Richmond, better than any long-shot fantasy or wild adolescent dream, and he doesn't need a label to enjoy it for what it is--
Roy is going to walk it back and Jamie is sure of it, because it really is the hope that fucking kills you and he doesn't dare fucking hope for anything else.
He should have just kept his mouth shut and taken the win, that Roy came all this way to see him just because Jamie told him that's what he wanted, just because Roy wanted to, and let whatever possessed Roy a moment ago to say what he said slide. Jamie knows that this thing between them, whatever it is, isn't just-- fucking easy hookups and a way to kill time between matches and training, even if maybe it was that for Roy, once. But Jamie knows that it's since evolved into something that he isn't sure he even has the proper words to really fit around when it's so much more intense and consuming than anything else he's ever experienced in his life, because Jamie's thought he's been in love before but never, ever like this, and he should have just shut his stupid fucking mouth and let it ride so he didn't have to watch Roy look at him white as a sheet like he's just seen a fucking ghost.
Roy is going to walk it back because he's already walking away, and Jamie, even now, doesn't blame him for the distance. It's fine, it'll be fine, and he's only vaguely aware there's a storm raging outside the building that probably lines up pretty well with the tangled up mess threatening to crack open inside of his chest, a knot like a fist swelling up in his throat, and it's fine. It's fine that Roy is on the other side of the room. It's fine that he's talking about fucking-- fucking water, it's fine that Roy looks more startled and unsteady than Jamie has ever seen him, it's fine that Jamie wants to fucking shout at him to just fucking talk to me, will you--
He tilts his face into the brush of Roy's fingers before he can help himself. Pavlovian, and fuck if he hasn't understood what that means more than he does now because the rest of him is wound so tight he feels like he might snap if he moves a muscle, jaw set, shoulders locked, and Roy is still talking about the wrong fucking thing, about Brazilians and apologies Jamie doesn't want, and when he starts his second sentence with another sorry, every inch of Roy looking like he's waiting for a fight, it takes everything in Jamie not to shove him away by the chest.
He's glad he doesn't, because the very next second he feels knocked flat. ]
Fucking hell.
[ It's the only thing he can manage before he all but launches himself at Roy for a kiss. It's too hard, too desperate, nearly clacking their teeth together as Jamie finds his mouth, pressing them together the way he wanted the second he saw Roy on the other side of the door. ] --don't say sorry, fucking dickhead--
[ It's difficult to tell if the fucking hell he's hearing is good or bad - that is until the bundle of energy that is Jamie Tartt catapults towards him, and all Roy can do is catch him in his arms, stumbling back into a dresser in the room. He can't even complain about how there's probably a bruise against his lower back from colliding with the furniture thanks to the impact of Jamie kissing him. He can't complain because even for how clumsy the kiss is and how unprepared Roy is for it, it manages to be one of the best kisses of his life for the simple fact that Roy just staked his claim on him and rather than call Roy a delusional twat, he's kissing him for it.
One hand grips the back of Jamie's head, the other wraps around his hip, clutching Jamie flush against him. Fuck, he's missed kissing Jamie, missed it more than he does playing football in a stadium full of people chanting his name, but he's trying to be a better man and he doesn't think Jamie should let him off the hook so easily. ]
But I am fucking sorry— [ He murmurs against Jamie's lips before they're kissing again, Roy guiding Jamie back by his hips until the back of his legs touch the edge of his king-sized bed and Roy pushes him down, climbing on top of him. ] Do you have any idea how jealous I'd be if I found you fucking someone else? The only Brazilians I want you near are the ones you're destroying on the pitch like the talented shit you are.
[ He stares down at Jamie, pinned to the bed by Roy's hips, holding himself up by his elbows. ] Fucking hell, Jamie, I've missed you.
[ It's crazy how much. It's crazy how he went from hating Jamie's guts to not knowing how to function without him. It's crazy how he'd follow Jamie anywhere, catch a thousand pain-in-the-arse flights to be with him, even in an economy seat that's really uncomfortable for his knee. It's crazy how he'd walk 500 miles to be with Jamie, like that annoying as shit song the lads sang at the last karaoke night, which he couldn't help but sing under his breath while looking over at the love of his life.
Fuck, he loves Jamie, but he's not ready to say it. Not today. ]
[ How is it that every time Roy threatens to fuck him exhausted it always makes his stomach do an excited little flip like it's the first time all over again-- ]
killjoy
what about an apron? one of them little ones to protect your cock and shit
bet nigella lawson cooks with her tits n arse out for her boyfriend if he asks
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
@finefurryfella
Date: 2023-05-30 10:33 pm (UTC)[ Roy calls him Prince Prick and-- yeah, alright. Maybe he will let the topic slide off when not sure he's even ready to touch it, when it's easier to snort a pleased laugh to himself about the stupid nickname that's stuck and be tugged along on the sharpest conversation detour he's ever seen that ends in fucking vanilla vodka of all things.
Sometimes Jamie can't tell if Roy is bad at being subtle or if he himself is just too good at reading into shit that isn't even there. Roy called him a child the last time he thought Jamie was drinking it, but then he remembered, didn't he, enough to think that maybe Jamie would want it again, and now Jamie has a gift waiting for him wrapped in an invitation that he's been looking forward to all day.
Fuck. ]
wow i'm touched
might be a bit late. keeley's got us doing that shoot for the nandos thing and the lads are going fucking mental about it so
but yeah. i'll be there
no subject
Date: 2023-06-03 12:48 am (UTC)nandos is overrated. don't know why the boys are creaming themselves over it other than the fact that they get free fucking chicken and chips.
you can go out with the boys after the shoot if you want. they'll probably ask you to.
[ He doesn't want Jamie to feel like he has to choose him. He's trying to be less clingy after his relationship with Keeley. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-06-03 02:32 am (UTC)[ It's funny how quickly the valleys can come after the peaks in his mood, because he almost bristles immediately at the knee-jeek assumption Roy is giving him permission to go out, like Jamie needed to fucking ask in the first place, only...that's not right, isn't it?
He reads it again, and just barely manages to keep from doing something stupid as he winds himself back down. ]
yeah i could. if i wanted
you craving anything? i were gonna stop off on the way since they'll have me half starved by the time we're through
no subject
Date: 2023-06-03 11:10 pm (UTC)will you lose 50 quid if I say KFC?
[ He doesn't even like KFC but when it comes to anything other than football, he gets a kick out of watching him lose. The smug prick can't win all the time. ]
anything other than you?
[ He can't believe he just typed that but he's already said enough dumb shit tonight, he might as well go for gold. ]
something sweet like a mcflurry maybe
[ Shit. He's definitely won that bet now. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-06-04 06:46 am (UTC)fuck the mcflurry and go back to the me part
no subject
Date: 2023-06-07 11:09 am (UTC)I'm just saying nandos are smart for using you as a poster boy because I get hungry looking at you all the fucking time
now go practice duck faces in the mirror or whatever you pretty boys do before shoots
no subject
Date: 2023-06-08 04:38 am (UTC)pretty enough you think?
maybe i'll think about letting you pick which part of me you get to eat first
no subject
Date: 2023-06-08 11:25 pm (UTC)real cute. why are you always doing that with your tongue? it's fucking distracting.
you actually got a laugh out of me for that one. well done, tartt. not just a pretty face after all.
no subject
Date: 2023-06-09 01:25 am (UTC)[ It's a little shit answer for a little shit habit, but it's also the truth, mostly. He's been doing it long enough now that he doesn't even know when it started and, sometimes, he doesn't even know he's doing it until he's doing it, but he knows people either love it or hate it and if they hate it it's usually the point. ]
ain't my fault you think the only depth i got is in my arsehole. you should really work on that
no subject
Date: 2023-06-14 11:47 pm (UTC)don't act like I don't give your arse enough attention or you can start fingering it yourself 🖕
no subject
Date: 2023-06-15 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-06-15 12:05 am (UTC)[ Actually... ]
would you really?
no subject
Date: 2023-06-15 12:20 am (UTC)[ Plus he can think of so many worse things than Roy zeroing in all of his unbearably intense direction solely on Jamie like he's the only thing in the fucking world worth looking at, and fuck, if he holds onto that thought too long he's going to make this Nando's shoot uncomfortable. ]
not sure you'll be able to keep your fucking hands to yourself long enough to get anywhere first though
no subject
Date: 2023-06-15 12:38 am (UTC)I can watch you without touching you
piece of piss
no subject
Date: 2023-06-15 01:01 am (UTC)nah fuck off. i don't think you got it in you. you like making me do what you want too much. it'll drive you fucking mad just sitting back to watch me get off however i want to
bet i don't even get three fingers in before you break.
no subject
Date: 2023-06-18 12:17 am (UTC)game on.
no subject
Date: 2023-06-18 02:47 pm (UTC)[ The shoot goes well, obviously, even if Jamie is more than a little distracted for most of it. The camera loves him though, and Jamie has always loved it back enough to preen under a lense without much prompting required so yeah it's good, it's great, and if he's antsy waiting for it to finish, bouncing on his heels and stretching out the bottom of his kit by balling and unballing his fists up inside of it while the others have their turns, well, then, that's just his business, isn't it?
No one says anything, at least, but that's probably because they're used to Jamie fidgeting around in the lulls between activity, all his pent up energy coming out in little bursts until he can actually do something about it. They do ask him to come out with them after just like Roy thought they would, excited and eager as if a Nandos sponsorship is AFC Richmond's biggest win yet(which Jamie expected), and they all share the same annoying knowing look between themselves when Jamie declines with the vague excuse that he has something to take care of(which Jamie resolutely fucking ignores). There's no way they actually know, because insane sexting fantasies aside Roy and Jamie act the way they always have with each other at work, but the way Sam had been smiling at him when he finally threw his phone in his bag to prep for the shoot means that there's no way they don't know his something to take care of is really a someone.
They're good lads, though, and so they let him off the hook with only a little ribbing about it, threatening to make him make good on his promise of next time or else, and Jamie only feels a little bad about the fact that he can't get the fuck away fast enough to high tail it to where he really wants to be.
He does stop for food on the way even though he's not really thinking about eating, as if that might prove to himself that he's not as embarrassingly desperate and eager as he actually feels to be back around Roy again, like he's been away from the man for days and not just a few fucking hours, christ, and he lets himself into Roy's house with the key that he still sometimes has a hard time believing actually lives on his keyring to use whenever he wants.
His skin is buzzing a little, partly because he'd been thinking about their texts again on the way over, but mostly because that's just what happens lately whenever Jamie knows he's about to get to spend the night greedily soaking in all of the other man's attention all for himself.
Fuck, that's pathetic.
He kicks off his shoes at the door and calls out: ]
You better not be asleep already, you fucking antique.
no subject
Date: 2023-06-19 09:43 pm (UTC)Jamie is only the reason he ever stays up past 10 PM. He tends to be wide awake when Jamie is around for obvious reasons, but when Jamie isn't with him, he usually just goes to bed early, ready for another day of football (football really is life for Roy, but lately life is football and Jamie).
While Jamie was busy getting photographed, Roy was having a hard time concentrating on anything at home. He's definitely looking forward to seeing Jamie later, but every time he checks the clock to see how much time has passed, it's like time is slowing down to fuck with him. He'd tried to read, tried watching a movie, tried watching Richmond's last match - but that last choice proved to be a big mistake. He'd been trying not to think about Jamie like some obsessive freak, but what he'd ended up doing was replaying Jamie's goals over and over with his hand down his shorts.
He can't believe he's using footy matches as porn to wank off to Jamie Tart. What the fuck has become of him?
But back to Roy being asleep - the sound of the front door slamming shut is what wakes Roy up with a start. For a second he thinks he's about to be burgled and is ready to fuck up said burglar until he remembers he gave Jamie a key. He'd fallen asleep on the sofa, but he's not going to give Jamie the satisfaction of being right, so he suddenly sits up, grabs The Da Vinci Code from the coffee table and pretends like he's been reading. Of course, all the signs are there that he's been snoozing, from the patch of drool on his shirt, to his slightly touseled hair, to the sleep still in his eyes. ]
For your fucking information, I've been reading my book. [ That would probably be more believable if he wasn't holding said book upside down. ]
How'd it go? Did they make you spill a bottle of peri-peri sauce on yourself? [ That's supposed to be a joke but his cock actually twitches at the thought of shirtless Jamie covered in sauce. God help him if he starts using Nando ads of Jamie to wank off to next. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-06-20 11:59 pm (UTC)Yeah, sure. Upside down ciphers this time, is it?
[ Roy taught him what a cipher was, so it only seems fair Jamie gets to use that newfound knowledge to make fun of him as he swans his way into Roy's living room, annoyingly smug. He leaves a trail of things as he goes-- his bag dropped onto a little table as he crosses into the room, his favorite puffer vest unzipped and thrown over the chair he's sucked Roy off in more times than he can count anymore -- until he's close enough to knock the book out of Roy's hands, cheeky without shame.
He's in a good mood, although photographers telling him how good he looks for hours on end does tend to have that effect on him, and Jamie's grinning as he makes himself comfortable, kneeling up onto the couch to swing himself right into Roy's lap, careful as always about his shit knee as he settles himself in place like it's a throne that he owns. ]
It was good, yeah. Had to cut the sauce shot, though. [ The problem with being this close to Roy is that Jamie never really knows where to start on him, never sure what part of Roy he wants to touch the most. He still wants to kiss him but he also wants to keep being a shit, and so he splits the difference by pressing his face into Roy's throat to breath him in a little, sinking into the other man's chest, talking against his skin. ] Didn't want the other lads to feel bad about themselves tryin' to keep up after I would'a looked that fucking amazing.
[ And then he bites, just a little, just a tease, mostly because he can't fucking help himself. ] But they let me take a bottle. You know, in case you needed something to eat off me arse later.
no subject
Date: 2023-06-22 12:36 am (UTC)It can, however, get annoying when Jamie uses the new words he's learned against Roy. And also when he uses those new words in a completely incorrect way, like when he told Roy to go ciper himself. It doesn't matter that it made Roy laugh and that's exactly why Jamie said it. It doesn't matter that Roy replied I'll cipher you and they'd gotten naked shortly after. It's still annoying that Jamie knows exactly how to make him laugh, like he's completely cracked the cipher to Roy's humour. ]
Oi— [ It's a half-hearted oi, his book falling to the floor while Jamie takes his rightful place on his lap, and he can't complain. Even if it hurt his knee, he wouldn't complain. He'd put up with it simply to have Jamie close.
His hands cup Jamie's hips, looking down through his lashes to watch Jamie be his usual cocktease self. He remembers a time when he found Jamie's confidence unbearable, mostly because he made other people feel like shit in the process. Nowadays if Jamie said anything negative about himself, Roy would be arguing just how amazing he is. So it's a good thing he hears Jamie talk about himself like he's the sexiest person in the room because Roy agrees. He's the sexiest person in every room. ]
Fuck. [ His cock perks right up under Jamie, fingers digging into his hips, and he's glad they haven't started the challenge they were talking about earlier yet. He cups the nape of Jamie's neck and draws his face back so he can meet Roy's eyes. ]
Don't tell me you want me to use it as lube? [ He's smirking, obviously winding him up. His hand travels to Jamie's jaw. ] Come here, you filthy poser. [ He wants a kiss and he's not waiting any longer for it. ]
[ brazil ]
Date: 2023-06-07 12:13 pm (UTC)He comes up with a plan that should help him go unnoticed by the public. Everyone who knows who he is knows he only wears dark heathered charcoal (i.e. black). He's instantly recognizable by his wardrobe, particularly his trademark leather jacket. So he brings nothing black, apart from underwear, and chooses the most ridiculous outfit he can come up with to travel in.
Miraculously, it works. Nobody bats an eye at him when he's at the airport. He blends in with all the other stupidly dressed holidaymakers. Why the fuck didn't he dress like an idiot sooner?
It's a long flight from London and he only gets about an hour's kip because he's so nervous he's made a mistake and Jamie will think he's the clingiest man he's ever met to follow him to fucking Brazil, even if Jamie wanted him there in the first place.
Knowing what room is Jamie's thanks to Keeley, he knocks on his door and waits. What Jamie will be greeted by is a bearded man wearing a familiar tie-dye shirt, red joggers, a bucket hat with a smiley face on it, and a pair of sunglasses. He has no idea if Jamie is even in his room or not. He might be working, lounging by the pool, or even flirting with hot Brazilians his own age.
Suddenly he has an image of a Brazilian model Jamie is fucking opening the door and looks the complete opposite of the smiley on his hat, frowning to himself. ]
Fuuuuuu—
no subject
Date: 2023-06-09 12:44 am (UTC)And then, just as everything was about to get fun for real, where Jamie was actually going to get to enjoy his vacation with someone he knows how to have a good time with, KJPR has some minor crisis or another that needed Keeley's personal touch to smooth over. She had the audacity to look guilty about it, as if Jamie might hold it against her that she has more important things to do these days than herd around wayward football players to do what she needed them to do, but he knows her too well than to take it personally. Her heart's too big, is the problem, especially with people she cares about, and he loves her for it, truly, no matter how long ago that particular ship sailed away never to make a return trip. So he takes her to the airport himself to see her off, like maybe it'll prove to her that he's just fine in his own, like there aren't worse things than kicking around fucking Brazil of all places alone for a little while, and sends her through the gates with a hug and a kiss to her cheek he won't be surprised to see splashed over the tabloids if they decide they have nothing better to run with.
It is fine, really, only he has no idea what to actually do with himself when neither of the people he wants around are within reach. Clubbing would have been fun with Keeley but seems a little pathetic to do on his own when he knows he'll just end up in the VIP section with a bottle to sip at alone, or, worse, if it means he'll be spending the night fending off advances from strangers he has no desire to actually take home with him. He's not even sure when that happened, when he went from being all too familiar with fun, easy one night stands to his mind only wandering to one specific gruff dickhead whenever he's after company, filthy or not, but, well, here they fucking are, aren't they?
So he relaxes instead. He gets a little lost wandering the city, and spends too much on stupid gifts for his mates from colorful vendor stalls more than happy to charge him a tourist tax for being clearly foreign, and eats all the foods he's not allowed to have when training properly, and runs the length of the beach by his hotel morning and night to make up for it anyway, a little because he can hear Roy in the back of his head yelling at him to get off his arse but mostly because he'd be stupid not to when the view is so good and he's restless, regardless. And he has a few morning lie ins, too, but mostly takes them at the poolside instead, soaking up as much hot Brazilian sun as he can before he has to go back to England, going sun-kissed and golden under the glare, and he needles Roy with cock pics because he doesn't know how to actually say that he fucking misses him, that he does really wish Roy were they even if that's probably stupid, and wonders, maybe, if he ought to just give it up and go home a little early when he's starting to feel more like he's idly running a clock down until his departure date and less like being on a well earned holiday.
He's asking himself that very question when the knock on his door comes-- or, rather, he had been asking himself that question originally, only then he got started thinking about Roy again somewhere in the middle and that always ends with his dick getting hard even when he's not trying for it. He considers ignoring it all together, more interested in palming his cock in a slow tease more than he wants to know what's on the other side, until he remembers that he'd been waiting on a room service order that's going to obliterate his chances of making it for a night run when he's through with it, and heaves himself out of bed with a sigh.
When Jamie answers the door it probably doesn't alleviate whatever fucked up little anxiety nightmare is in Roy's head, because his hair looks a little bed wrecked and he's half-naked again, though at least this time it's the more appropriate half that's covered for receiving an unexpected guest. The shorts he's wearing aren't really helping all the same, thin as they are, and the clear outline of Jamie's half hard prick against the fabric suggests that he's not wearing anything under them, either. His bare shoulders are a little sun-bitten, a hint of red that matches the bit of sunburn across the bridge of his nose, which is probably a lot more comical now when paired with the expression currently on his face like his brain has just stalled out trying to work out what he's seeing with his own two fucking eyes. ]
Fucking hell.
[ It's the only thing that comes to mind, because Jamie isn't sure he's not fucking hallucinating seeing Roy fucking Kent in front of his door dressed in the most outrageous outfit the man could possibly be in and there's no way to think of anything smarter. Try as he might be can't really get over the first bit, that Roy is here. That Roy is here, in Brazil, wearing a look on his face that Jamie doesn't know what to do with, like he's thinking of turning tail and stalking back down the hall, and Jamie knows he needs to say something better than that to make sure Roy doesn't actually bolt. ]
Am I dreaming or are you dressed like Ronald Mc-fucking-Donald?
[ Nailed it. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-06-13 11:49 pm (UTC)Except maybe the reality is a lot worse. There's a possibility Roy has never seen Jamie look any better than this, even with the bit of a sunburn across his nose. The sunburn makes him look more human, a reminder that he isn't perfect, even if his body looks it half the time, and it's stupidly endearing. His hair looks ridiculous in that way that makes Roy want to run his fingers through it, brushing back those strands out of his eyes. What Jamie is wearing - which is very little - Roy honestly can't tell are meant to be shorts or underwear. If it's not underwear, they should be illegal. And Jamie's semi is enough to make his brain shut down for at least five seconds, glad for the sunglasses he's still wearing (he didn't need to wear them inside but he's technically still incognito) that hide the sudden desire in his eyes to pull down Jamie's shorts, kneel down and suck his cock right in the doorway.
Of course, a hot Brazilian could be responsible for the way Jamie looks, and that's what stops him from grabbing Jamie and kissing him. Instead, in a classic display of Roy Kent behaviour, he shoves Jamie back so there's enough room for him to pass, growling in response to the clown joke because that was only funny when used to describe Ted.
He takes off his sunglasses so he can see better, then proceeds to search Jamie's hotel room. He starts with the bed, pulling the covers off to make sure no one's under there (no Brazilian). He checks out the bathroom, including in the shower (no Brazilian). He checks the balcony (no Brazilian), behind the curtains (no Brazilian) and finally in the wardrobe (still no fucking Brazilian). ]
...No one's here. [ He sounds so confused, his voice rising as it always does when he's having some kind of mental breakdown, which Jamie is usually responsible for. He gets all up in Jamie's face, which isn't at all threatening in his outfit. ] Why the fuck are you alone? Why aren't you shagging fit Brazilians?
no subject
Date: 2023-06-16 05:11 pm (UTC)That's how it always goes in films, isn't it? After all the drama of the person you want to make a big, stupid grand gesture not going through with it, and then they fucking do, standing right there in front of you when you really didn't expect that it would happen, and then they kiss you and probably fuck your brains out after--
Roy just shoves passed him instead, which is both predictable and fucking annoying, even if the way the man growls low in his throat while he does it still makes Jamie's dick twitch a little, anyway. He rolls his eyes, head shaking as he swings the door back shut, and Jamie's mouth is open to deliver little smart-mouthed jab about old people and jet lag when he turns back to face him, only to immediately lose track of the joke when he sees Roy doing...whatever the hell he's fucking doing.
It's like Roy is looking for something, which doesn't make any sense, but he seems intent on pulling Jamie's room apart until he finds it regardless. It's so bizarre that for once Jamie doesn't have anything to say about it, no little shitty quips or sarcastic commentary while he watches the other man work his way through every nook and cranny, and he's still wearing a look of clear, muddy confusion on his face when Roy gets right up into his space to start interrogating him about Brazilians.
It's been a long time since Roy getting in his face like this has triggered the urge to do anything other than bite his mouth or get his hands under Roy's clothes, but threatening is the absolute last thing on Jamie's mind when every fucking word out of Roy's mouth is just making him more confused than he was a second ago. ]
'Course I'm alone. What the fuck are you even talkin' about? [ He is so fucking confused. If Roy had been worried he'd find Keeley in Jamie's room, maybe he could understand that, what with knowing she'd be coming on the trip and all, but this is clearly not that. ] Why would I be shagging Brazilians?
[ Outside of the fact that he's in Brazil, where it's reasonable to suspect most Brazilians would probably be available for said shagging if that's what were happening, and it isn't like they've talked about-- fuck, any of this shit that they're doing, and certainly not in anyway that would invite a discussion about who they are or aren't sleeping with outside of each other. Mostly Jamie really doesn't mind avoiding that conversation, and yeah, maybe it's a little because he doesn't want to deal with whatever tangled up shitty feelings it'll make him feel like to get an answer he doesn't want to get, but-- ] Is that why you're here? To see who I've been fucking on holiday?
no subject
Date: 2023-06-17 11:36 pm (UTC)Because you're Jamie fucking Tartt! [ He answers like he shouldn't have to say anything more than that, but Jamie is looking at him like he has no idea what the fuck that even means, and if he doesn't explain himself, he might actually punch Roy. In the dick. ]
Jamie, you're in a country full of people who look just like you - hot and sunkissed - who want to fuck you for your accent, not in spite of it. You're young and horny enough to have jacuzzi sex on shitty reality television - which, yes, I fucking watched every episode of, but only because my friends at yoga made me, and it was actually fun to watch something that requires no brain power with a glass of rosé. [ He can't believe he just admitted any of that to Jamie. Also, who says 'television' and not 'TV'? Old people like Roy. ]
You shouldn't only be fucking some grumpy old bastard back in London who had to turn to coaching because that's the closest he'll ever get to a football pitch again in his pathetic life. [ He forces a laugh, like his insecurities are something to make light of, but when Jamie doesn't laugh with him, when there's nothing but dead silence from him, he gets this sick feeling in his stomach. It's the feeling he gets when he knows he's fucked up. ]
Shit, no, I'm not checking up on you, I swear. I'm here because—
[ And this is when he's interrupted by a knock. Room service, one of the hotel staff says on the other side of Jamie's door. Roy ignores it and tries again. ]
Because—
[ Room service! ]
Because I—
[ ROOM SERVICE! ]
Fuck! [ Roy yells out of frustration and slides his sunglasses back on (he seems to think wearing them makes him invisible to the public). He almost yanks the door from its hinges in his annoyance to open it. Apparently Jamie has ordered so much food it's on a trolley that has to be wheeled into the room, and Roy throws Jamie an incredulous look. Three fucking courses?
And then the member of staff looks expectantly at Roy for a tip. ]
Jesus Christ. [ He gets out his wallet with a sigh and shoves a generous amount of money into the man's hand. ] Excuse my muppet of a boyfriend's manners for not tipping you himself.
[ He doesn't even realize he let the word boyfriend slip, but there sure is a lot for Jamie to unpack once they're alone again. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-06-20 03:51 am (UTC)It ain't really like that, though. Not with Roy. If Jamie is quiet while Roy goes off, it's because he's actually listening to the words coming out of the man's mouth, rapidly trying to put the pieces together even when it feels a little like they're falling too fast for Jamie to catch them, and if he doesn't move it's probably because the only place Jamie wants to be is here, in front of him, taking it all in. He doesn't laugh at that barb Roy turns in against himself, and a deep crease furrows in between Jamie's eyebrows in the wake of it instead, mouth tight. ]
Roy--
[ The knock at the door startles the hell out of him, making him jump, and Jamie thumps his hand to his heart a little theatrically while he swears for it because he'd completely even forgot he fucking ordered anything. He ignores Roy's dirty look as the trolley comes in, still trying to work out what the fuck he was even preparing to say before they'd been interrupted, lost somewhere between Roy admitting he'd watched Jamie voluntarily on that stupid show and the way Jamie wanted to punch him in the chest for talking down on himself the way he had been, and then it's just one word, boyfriend, that slams into Jamie's brain like a bolt of lightning.
If the bloke who'd brought the food notices anything strange, his face doesn't show it. Maybe it's not strange, for someone to call someone else their boyfriend. Maybe he doesn't even know who they are to know that it is strange, almost fucking impossible, for that word to fall out of Roy's mouth. Maybe he just doesn't fucking care because he works in a stupid posh hotel full of stupid rich posh dickheads and this probably isn't even close to the weirdest thing he's seen today. Whatever it is, he leaves the second he gets his tip, the door snapping securely shut behind him, and Jamie realizes he's staring at Roy like he's been sucker punched. ]
Did you just-- Wait, what did you--
[ What is he even saying? Christ, was his heart always in his throat? ]
What did you just say?
[ Jamie can hear it in his own voice that he sounds a little like he thinks he's stroked out and didn't hear what he thought he heard. ]
Not the-- not the fucking muppet part. The other part.
[ Because he can already hear Roy's voice in his head answering, I called you a fucking muppet, fuck off and if Roy actually says that Jamie really will hit him. ]
Did you just...call me your boyfriend?
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Date: 2023-06-23 11:55 pm (UTC)Not often is Roy speechless from a conversation with Jamie. They've always had consistent banter, even back when they were sworn enemies, and Roy will always try to come up with a comeback, no matter how stupid.
But he can't make a joke out of this - because it's not. He fucking called Jamie his boyfriend and it came out of his mouth so easily because Jamie falls right into that category. They spend every day together, every night together, every day off together. He does everything he used to do for Keeley with Jamie - cooks him meals, watches shows Jamie loves but he hates, lets Jamie blast his music in his car, fucks his brains out - except what pushed Keeley away doesn't seem to bother Jamie at all. Roy never bothered giving Jamie any space because he never viewed what they had as an actual relationship he could potentially lose...
Until now. It's suddenly very fucking apparent that they're not shagging each other purely just for fun or out of boredom or loneliness anymore. It's become so much more than that.
Rain pours outside of nowhere - he can hear it hammering against the windows - and a flash of lightning streaks across the room from the balcony doors. He feels it deep in his bones, and if there was ever a sign that he needs to listen to his heart right now, this has to be it. ]
Fuuuuck. [ Wide-eyed, Roy looks like a deer caught in headlights, like he might just throw himself off the balcony at any moment. Instead, he strides straight over to the mini-bar in Jamie's room and helps himself to - surprisingly, not alcohol, but a bottle of water. This choice is intentional knowing what he knows about Jamie's dad. He doesn't want to be another man in Jamie's life who uses alcohol as a coping mechanism, and he certainly doesn't want Jamie to think he needs to get shitfaced at the idea of Jamie being his boyfriend. He just needs water to calm his nerves because his hands are visibly shaking.
He didn't check what kind of water it was though - sparkling - and Roy pulls a face after swallowing it down. ]
Ted's right - sparkling water is shit. [ He puts the bottle down, takes one look at Jamie still waiting for an answer from him and closes the distance between them. It's time to be fucking accountable. ]
I'm sorry for yelling at you about shagging Brazilians. [ He pauses to brush a couple of strands of hair out of Jamie's eyes, and his fingers are still shaking a little because he's so fucking nervous he's fucked a good arrangement with Jamie by putting a label on it, one they can't even use in public. Calling Jamie his boyfriend in private is good enough for him because as far as he's concerned, what they have is nobody's fucking business, and he doesn't want the press poisoning it by making it seedier than it actually is. ]
Sorry I'm not sorry I called you my boyfriend. [ He lifts his chin a little at that, bracing himself for a fight, waiting for Jamie to choose violence than ever accept being Roy Kent's boyfriend. ]
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Date: 2023-06-25 01:22 pm (UTC)Jamie is dead fucking sure of it. Roy is going to walk it back, and say he didn't mean it or that Jamie should just fucking drop it, and Jamie will, of course he will, even if it feels like twisting a knife to do it. The rest of it doesn't really matter much when this isn't really something they can actually fucking afford, not when they're already constantly under fire by the press just for being footballers, hunted by paps for the perfect tabloid money shot and viciously picked apart by anyone with internet access that fancies themselves an expert, and everyone, everyone knows that putting a label on a good thing can ruin it faster than anything else. Jamie's greedy but not actually stupid, most of the time, because this is a good thing, better than anything he would have fucking thought he'd be able to swing when he came back to AFC Richmond, better than any long-shot fantasy or wild adolescent dream, and he doesn't need a label to enjoy it for what it is--
Roy is going to walk it back and Jamie is sure of it, because it really is the hope that fucking kills you and he doesn't dare fucking hope for anything else.
He should have just kept his mouth shut and taken the win, that Roy came all this way to see him just because Jamie told him that's what he wanted, just because Roy wanted to, and let whatever possessed Roy a moment ago to say what he said slide. Jamie knows that this thing between them, whatever it is, isn't just-- fucking easy hookups and a way to kill time between matches and training, even if maybe it was that for Roy, once. But Jamie knows that it's since evolved into something that he isn't sure he even has the proper words to really fit around when it's so much more intense and consuming than anything else he's ever experienced in his life, because Jamie's thought he's been in love before but never, ever like this, and he should have just shut his stupid fucking mouth and let it ride so he didn't have to watch Roy look at him white as a sheet like he's just seen a fucking ghost.
Roy is going to walk it back because he's already walking away, and Jamie, even now, doesn't blame him for the distance. It's fine, it'll be fine, and he's only vaguely aware there's a storm raging outside the building that probably lines up pretty well with the tangled up mess threatening to crack open inside of his chest, a knot like a fist swelling up in his throat, and it's fine. It's fine that Roy is on the other side of the room. It's fine that he's talking about fucking-- fucking water, it's fine that Roy looks more startled and unsteady than Jamie has ever seen him, it's fine that Jamie wants to fucking shout at him to just fucking talk to me, will you--
He tilts his face into the brush of Roy's fingers before he can help himself. Pavlovian, and fuck if he hasn't understood what that means more than he does now because the rest of him is wound so tight he feels like he might snap if he moves a muscle, jaw set, shoulders locked, and Roy is still talking about the wrong fucking thing, about Brazilians and apologies Jamie doesn't want, and when he starts his second sentence with another sorry, every inch of Roy looking like he's waiting for a fight, it takes everything in Jamie not to shove him away by the chest.
He's glad he doesn't, because the very next second he feels knocked flat. ]
Fucking hell.
[ It's the only thing he can manage before he all but launches himself at Roy for a kiss. It's too hard, too desperate, nearly clacking their teeth together as Jamie finds his mouth, pressing them together the way he wanted the second he saw Roy on the other side of the door. ] --don't say sorry, fucking dickhead--
no subject
Date: 2023-06-29 11:27 pm (UTC)One hand grips the back of Jamie's head, the other wraps around his hip, clutching Jamie flush against him. Fuck, he's missed kissing Jamie, missed it more than he does playing football in a stadium full of people chanting his name, but he's trying to be a better man and he doesn't think Jamie should let him off the hook so easily. ]
But I am fucking sorry— [ He murmurs against Jamie's lips before they're kissing again, Roy guiding Jamie back by his hips until the back of his legs touch the edge of his king-sized bed and Roy pushes him down, climbing on top of him. ] Do you have any idea how jealous I'd be if I found you fucking someone else? The only Brazilians I want you near are the ones you're destroying on the pitch like the talented shit you are.
[ He stares down at Jamie, pinned to the bed by Roy's hips, holding himself up by his elbows. ] Fucking hell, Jamie, I've missed you.
[ It's crazy how much. It's crazy how he went from hating Jamie's guts to not knowing how to function without him. It's crazy how he'd follow Jamie anywhere, catch a thousand pain-in-the-arse flights to be with him, even in an economy seat that's really uncomfortable for his knee. It's crazy how he'd walk 500 miles to be with Jamie, like that annoying as shit song the lads sang at the last karaoke night, which he couldn't help but sing under his breath while looking over at the love of his life.
Fuck, he loves Jamie, but he's not ready to say it. Not today. ]
@finefurryfella
Date: 2023-06-29 02:23 am (UTC)[ How is it that every time Roy threatens to fuck him exhausted it always makes his stomach do an excited little flip like it's the first time all over again-- ]
killjoy
what about an apron? one of them little ones to protect your cock and shit
bet nigella lawson cooks with her tits n arse out for her boyfriend if he asks
no subject
Date: 2023-07-01 10:20 pm (UTC)[ He's in love with a fucking idiot. ]
nigella isn't as hairy as me. do you really want to risk finding my chest hair in your coq au vin?
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Date: 2023-07-01 11:37 pm (UTC)anyway i find your fucking hair in my mouth all the time already don't i
if it hasn't stopped me from sucking your balls probably won't stop me from eating a sexy little dish you've done up for me either
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Date: 2023-07-03 11:28 pm (UTC)[ You're gonna give him a hair complex, Jamie. ]
if you've got a mouth like a henry hoover that's your fucking problem
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Date: 2023-07-03 11:56 pm (UTC)and i weren't complaining you big fucking baby
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Date: 2023-07-04 12:16 am (UTC)because I'm not waxing for anyone
I did it once and all my hair grew back in a day so it's a waste of fucking time
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Date: 2023-07-04 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-07-04 12:50 am (UTC)it was for a photoshoot back in the day
you pull it off, I look like a chicken that's been plucked
no subject
Date: 2023-07-05 04:38 am (UTC)[ How did he not know about this shoot? Unbelievable. ]
must have taken all day to get you done. how many quit on the spot when they saw your chest?
i would've. fucking backbreaking
you still got the photos?
[ Googling in 3, 2 -- ]
no subject
Date: 2023-07-05 10:28 pm (UTC)fucking hell, I thought you wrote "barebacking"
do you think I keep an album of every photoshoot I've done?
[ For fuck's sake... Fine. ]
calvin klein underwear campaign, 2014
[ That'll be enough information for Jamie to find them. ]