Chapter Text
Roy is stuffing his feet into his kit trying to ignore the prick on the other side of the locker room flaunting about. They might have had their temporary peace at the charity gala this weekend, but the stunt Jamie pulled that got Keeley to pull her own stunt on Roy is still a tender bruise. So the annoyance is back in full force.
A distraction from wanting to punch his face in, comes in the most unlikely of shapes. Because right as Roy is starting to contemplate if voicing his annoyance would encourage Jamie or get him to shut the fuck up, the door to the locker room slams open to reveal… a child?
Overall, a child in the locker room isn’t the strangest thing, though it’s not usual. While most footballers are young and stupid and not responsible enough to have a baby that doesn’t stop all of them and to be fair, most of them do grow out of that phase at some point.
However, the sudden appearance of a child Roy has never fucking seen before mixed in with the fact that at Richmond he doesn’t think any of his teammates have a child, not to mention that it is not Henry Lasso, because it’s impossible to be around Ted for more than a day and not know what his son fucking looks like. He is still surprised and confused, freezing for a moment alongside the others.
The child in question seems oblivious, just scanning the room, before his eyes fall on someone and he grins widely, running forward again as he yells: “Daddy!”
Like that, everyone is snapped back in motion as they look around to see who’s fucking child it is. Roy nearly chokes on his spit and he’s sure some of the others actually do, when Jamie Fucking Tartt of all people wipes his startled expression off his face and turns it into a soft grin, dropping to one knee and opening his arms as he exclaims: “George, my sexy little lad! What are you doing here?” as he catches the child, George, apparently.
Everyone is too shocked to do anything but stare as Jamie – fucking Jamie – reunites with his son. And Roy feels his eyebrows creep to higher on his forehead as George excitedly says: “The school was gonna blow up, so they made us all go home.”
“What?” Jamie shrieks, pulling back from the hug to look at George with concern on his face. “What do you mean your school was going to blow up? Are you okay? Where’s your mummy?”
It’s highly discombobulating to watch Jamie with all that parental concern over his face. It hadn’t really sunk in yet what this means, that Jamie is a parent. A dad. The father of a son, who looks to be around Phoebe’s age, while Roy’s sister definitely is older than Jamie by a good few years. Mentally he does the math, assuming George is around six, like Phoebe, that makes Jamie seventeen when he was born.
Fucking hell.
Before he can even begin to think about whatever he might be feeling, they’re interrupted again. This time by a young woman, who looks to be about Jamie’s age. She has her eyes covered, but it’s not playfully like Keeley used to do. G-d fucking hell, did Keeley know about this or is this another shitty thing Jamie did?
“I am so sorry, he just ran off,” the woman says. “He is here, right? I promise I didn’t meant to waltz in here. I texted you in the parking lot, but he was too excited and ran off.”
“He’s here and everyone’s decent, Liz,” Jamie smirks, which is the most Jamie like he’s looked since George’s appearance. He stands up again, taking George with him as he goes. It makes it all the more real to see him standing there, holding the child in his arms.
Liz peeks out from behind her hands, before dropping them entirely and relaxing a little when there are not a bunch of naked men surrounding her and her child. She smiles kindly at Jamie – which is a fucking choice in Roy’s opinion – but there doesn’t seem to be a deeper affection there.
“Uh, Liz, why is George here telling me his school was going to blow up?” Jamie asks, returning back to his concern with Liz there.
“Oh,” Liz huffs out an amused laugh. “There was a potential gas leak in the area. Send everyone home for the day, just to be safe.”
“Ahhh,” Jamie nods in understanding. Then asks: “So what are you two doing here? You know you can’t just show up here.”
Roy scowls at that alongside Liz, of fucking course the twat is like that about his own fucking child. I mean, there’s a reason none of them even knew the prick was a dad, even if Roy can understand that he didn’t want his teen parenthood to be common knowledge.
“Because, Jamie, I have class today and I can’t miss it,” Liz tells him, tone a lot sharper than it had been earlier. Roy likes her instantly.
Jamie clenches his jaw, but in a twist of maturity he doesn’t say anything, just looks down at George and forces a smile, before jutting his head towards the door. Liz nods and the three of them make their way out of the locker room, hushed whispers starting up in their wake.
The whispers cover up a lot of what might be going on outside and maybe that had been the point. Roy couldn’t care less about Jamie or what everyone has to say about Jamie, but he’s always been protective about children and a part of him can’t bring himself to trust Jamie, even though the lad hasn’t done anything around George to earn it. Still, his behavior around Sam and Nate is fresh on Roy’s mind, so he doesn’t feel bad about listening in through the cracked door.
“Hey, big man,” Jamie says, putting George down. “Can you go fill this for me, water fountain is right down there.” Filling bottles is Nate’s job, but Roy can admit it’s a good strategy for getting the boy out of the way for a serious talk without losing sight of him.
Both Jamie and Liz follow George until they deem him far enough out of range. Then Jamie says: “Why can’t you take him today?”
“Because I have classes and a mock trail and I can’t bring George to those,” Liz answers, a law student, Roy mentally files away.
“Can’t you just miss it for a day?” Jamie asks.
“No, I can’t just miss a day, Jamie, this is my future. You can’t miss a day of training like that either, now can you? Mock trails are important,” Liz shoots back.
“That’s different,” Jamie tells her and Roy growls lowly, even though no one hears, because that is a fucking prick thing to say. What a fucking twat.
Liz agrees with him swearing: “Oh you fucking prick.”
“What, it is!” Jamie exclaims, actually sounding indignant about it. “I’m earning money ‘ere. Money I’m using to fund your studies. And George and everything. You don’t need a career.”
“Yeah, as long as you have one, is that what you mean?” Liz snaps, her own Mancunian accent becoming stronger as she gets angry. “Maybe I like a back up option, Tartt. One that doesn’t rely on you, ever thought about that?”
“Fuck off.” Now Jamie is getting mad too. “I pay my child support. Much more than I have to. You know I fucking do. I won’t just leave you and George to fend for yourself and I thought you fucking knew me better than that.”
“Maybe you do, Jamie. Maybe. But that’s now and we both know it hasn’t always been like that, huh, has it? And what if he gets his paws in your finances again? I’m not going to be like all those single mums at the estate, waiting, hungry. I’m going to be financially independent and that means I can’t just miss class,” Liz hisses.
“Don’t talk shit about those mums,” Jamie snarls in a way that tells Roy it’s personal.
“I’m not talking shit,” Liz huffs. “You know I’m not. I’m just not going to be like them.”
Mulishly, Jamie says: “ Course, you’re not going to be like them. Ever. I got a whole system set up now, paying via mummy, no direct ties to me. He’s- He’s not going to cut you off and I won’t let him in. Swear down.”
“I know, Jamie,” Liz says, her voice gentler. Roy wonders who the fuck they could be talking about, doesn’t like the way his gut coils as they mention this mysterious someone. Doesn’t like how it makes his knuckles itch with familiarity.
Right as he thinks they’ve made up, that that’s it, Liz says: “So you’re good to take George today? I have to run soon.”
Jamie scowls: “You could have hired a babysitter. It’s not like it’s easy for me to watch him at work either,” and Roy is back to wanting to strangle him. If it weren’t about a child, it would have been comforting to have that back, now it just makes Roy feel like shit.
“Maybe he was just excited to see his daddy now that he’s close and not keeping away,” Liz tells him, which is more in line with what Roy assumes Jamie to be like as a father.
“Oh like I’m the only one that was out of his life for a while,” Jamie snipes back. “At least I had a good fucking reason to.”
“Don’t act all high and mighty with me, you arsehole,” Liz snaps. “I had my reasons too.”
“I’m not,” Jamie exclaims. “I’m trying to fucking look out for him, even if you think you’re too good for it. You can’t just show up at my work like this.”
“Ugh, I can’t with you right now,” Liz groans frustrated. “Go hire a babysitter yourself if you’re so keen to be rid of him, I have to go.” Then she turns on her heel and stalks off.
Roy can hear her say bye to George and tell him to be good for daddy, which Roy thinks Jamie doesn’t deserve. As she goes, he watches Jamie through the crack in the door, his fist balled and his jaw set, scowl in place. He also watches Jamie forcefully shove that all down when George presumably makes his way back over to Jamie. It’s a small point for Jamie, even if Roy is reluctant to give him as much, vowing to keep an eye on the prick today.
The locker room falls silent again as they return. George looks around with wide eyes at everyone, clutching the bottom hem of Jamie’s shirt and pressing in close to his thigh. The way George is clearly comfortable in Jamie’s space is soothing and he doesn’t think Liz is the kind of woman to allow any nonsense around her kid, which is good.
But Roy can’t just shake it all off either. He’s felt off kilter from the moment the locker room door slammed open.
His off kilter-ness is not at all helped by George spotting him. His little eyes go wide and he stares slack jawed at Roy, before quickly snapping it closed and look up at Jamie. He tugs on the shirt then in what is meant to be a whisper, but is much louder in a kid’s way, he says: “Daddy, it’s Roy Kent.”
Somehow, after everything that has just gone down in the past few minutes, that statement and the awe it’s said with, bowls him over. Knowing who his dad is makes him a bit suspicious, but he’s not going to be an arsehole to a child, because his dad happens to be a massive prick. So gives George a friendly nod and says: “I am. Hi.”
“Daddy, you’re playing with Roy Kent,” George says hushed but urgently, tugging on Jamie’s shirt once more.
“Yeah, lad, I am. Told you I did, didn’t I. You saw me matches where we played together,” Jamie replies, looking vaguely amused and embarrassed.
“I guess, but that’s matches, I didn’t know they let you play together every day. I mean, it’s Roy Kent,” George says and he is quickly becoming one of Roy’s favorite people.
At that Jamie actually gets affronted, though he does so playfully. He pouts: “Of course they let us play every day together. I’m also really good. I play for Man City, remember.”
“Of course, daddy, you’re amazing and Man City is the best, but still… it’s Roy Kent.” He keeps saying Roy’s name like that, like it means something. First and last name. It usually bugs him when people do that, but George doing it is okay. Kind of nice really.
He’s been feeling his decline for a while already and this year has been the worst thus far. He knows that he isn’t who he used to be, that his status as the best is slowly fading until only the legendary status remains. Having this child – Jamie’s child – look at him with awe and worship as he currently is, is great for his ego.
“Well, I’m glad you still think I’m amazing,” Jamie huffs and rolls his eyes, but it’s fond and there is affection in his eyes and a gentleness in the way he ruffles George’s hair.
George beams up at him and Jamie matches his smile. For all his complaining to Liz earlier about her dropping George off here, he doesn’t actually seem to mind. Makes Roy wonder if he was just complaining to make her life harder, or if there is actually something going on; the latter wouldn’t have been a thought if he hadn’t felt that gut feeling when they were talking and he didn’t see the way Jamie acts with George now.
“Anyway, you can go up and talk to big man Roy Kent yourself, if you want, lad,” Jamie says, snapping Roy out of his musings.
“I can?” George asks.
“Yeah, he won’t bite,” Jamie grins down at George, then gives Roy a cautious look, as if he is unsure about letting Roy near George, as if he fears Roy will treat the boy the same as he does Jamie. Like he thinks Roy actually fucking bites.
“Uh-huh, I only bite journos,” Roy butts in, hoping to make George more comfortable and assure Jamie he’s not going to be a prick to his son. Like seriously, who the fuck does Jamie think he is?
“You bit that one guy when you played for Sunderland still in 2002,” George points out, though he is tentatively stepping away from Jamie and towards Roy.
It’s a deep cut, despite the more violent nature of it. With all the fights he’s had over the years his Sunderland escapades had shifted to the background. It was definitely from well before George’s time, so for him to know must mean that he was introduced to it by someone. That he watched more than just past peak football, but actively went down his career. Or a family member happened to be a Sunderland fanatic, but that seemed unlikely with the Man City cult Jamie comes from.
He realizes that the someone George probably watched that game with was likely Jamie. That it had to be something they had done over a long time for George to be this up to date and quick with it. The confession Jamie had made at the gala about having a poster of him on his wall suddenly flashing through his mind again.
Indeed, when he looks over to Jamie, he seems bright pink and not meeting anyone’s eye as he looks to the floor as if it’s the most interesting thing there is.
Everyone has been pretty quiet thus far, just watching the whole thing play out in front of them in shock. Now, though, murmurs and snickers start to go through the crowd as they also put together who George inherited that Roy Kent fanboy-ism from.
That revelation makes Roy grin, but he doesn’t push it, lets it speak for itself instead as he just replies to George: “Technically speaking, he ran into my mouth. Foul tackle that. Special case, not my usual biting habits.”
Apparently that is enough for George to lose some of his shyness and bounce over to Roy in a way that is hard to not find familiar. Fuck, that really is Jamie’s son, innit. “Okay,” he says cheerily, which is not Jamie at all, thank fuck. “Do you think daddy will ever be as good as you? He says he’s gonna be better, but maybe he should be realistic.”
George slows down on the longer word, but he does know it. Having heard Liz talk and knowing she is becoming a lawyer, Roy can guess who he gets that from. However, it doesn’t matter much if George knows big words, because he has given Roy gold with his words.
Around them, multiple people burst out in laughter and Jamie looks like he wants to sink into the ground and disappear. Roy gets a near gleefully menacing look on his face as he says: “I don’t know about better, but with enough training, he might get close.”
“Really! That’s so cool,” George gushes, clearly oblivious to the damage he has done to his father’s reputation with that.
Roy has to give credit where credit is due, because Jamie just takes it. He knows what George is doing to the person he’s built himself up to be, how it’s getting destroyed right in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t say a word. Not even to defend himself or soften what George is saying. Nothing that could make George feel bad about saying it, about being enthusiastic to meet Roy. Makes Roy think that Jamie might not be a terrible overall, despite being the Prince Prick of all Pricks.
This notion is encouraged by Jamie nudging George softly and encouraging him. “You know, George, if you wanted Roy Kent to sign something for you, this would be a great moment to ask.”
That makes George shy again and he presses up against Jamie once more. Jamie gently pulls his arm from around his leg and kneels down next to him. “What’s up, big man? Don’t you want Roy Kent’s signature? Talk to me, yeah?”
George bites his lip, then whispers something in Jamie’s ear, while Jamie listens with rapt attention, nodding along to whatever George is saying. It’s kind of cute and Roy hates that he is thinking that about Jamie of all people.
“Alright,” Jamie says, giving George a comforting squeeze, before getting back up. His face tells Roy that he’d rather be doing anything else right now, but he doesn’t let that stop him. With his jaw set proudly, he asks Roy: “George would love it if you could sign something for him. Do you mind?”
Roy doesn’t direct his answer to Jamie, instead turning to George as he says: “Of course I could sign something for my biggest fan.”
“Thank you!” George exclaims, earlier shyness forgotten once more as he jumps up and down. Then he suddenly turns sad and he says: “I don’t have my kit with me for you to sign. It’s at home.”
Filing the knowledge that Jamie’s son has a Kent kit away for later teasing, Roy quickly makes a decision as he shrugs out of his training kit and pulls out a sharpie from one of his bag pockets. It sometimes makes him feel like a proper twat, but he’s learned to be prepared when it comes to signing things.
He signs the training kit, knowing he has have spare somewhere in his kit bag and presents it to George. “Here you go, lad. It might not have my name printed on it or anything, but that’s pretty fucking rare.”
George stares at the signed kit with big eyes, like he can’t believe he’s allowed to touch it, let alone keep it. He looks back over to Roy and breathes: “Thank you so much,” before the excitement catches up with him and he throws his arms around Roy as he yells again: “Thank you so much!”
While hugging George back, Roy meets Jamie’s eyes over his head. Surprisingly, Jamie is watching this happen fondly. When he catches Roy looking at him, he mouths: “Thank you,” and Roy nods in response. It might be the closest to an understanding that they’ve ever gotten.
Right as George returns to Jamie’s side, signed kit clutches tightly in his hands, probably about to start blabbing excitedly about it, they’re interrupted by Ted and Beard coming in. They have missed the earlier commotion that was George’s arrival, but have been called out by George’s yelling just now.
“Okay, y’all what’s all this-” Ted starts, before seeing seeing George standing in the middle of the locker room. His eyebrows do a funny motion as he takes in the scene, before he pivots and kindly smiles: “Well, howdy there, kiddo. What’s your name and what are you doing here, huh?”
Instantly, George presses into Jamie’s side again. Softly but firmly he says: “Sorry, mister, daddy told me not to trust strangers with a mustache.”
More snickers go around the room as Jamie cringes at the words. “Uh, it’s okay, George. This is my coach, Ted. I told you about Ted, didn’t I?”
At Jamie being the one that speaks up after George, identifying himself as the dad to Ted and Beard, Ted’s face does a complicated thing.
Roy doesn’t blame him, it’s been quite a shock to everyone, it is kind of impressive how well Jamie has managed to keep this out of the press. Especially with how long he’s managed it. Roy has learned most things can’t be hidden forever, no matter how hard you try. It makes him wonder how hard Jamie works to keep this hidden and why.
He gets Jamie might be embarrassed about getting a girl pregnant at seventeen and it wouldn’t have been good for his career for it to come out then. But he’s twenty-three now and a well established name, even if he is on the rise still. This scandal won’t do him in, especially since footballers being good with kids always does well and Jamie is definitely good with George.
As Jamie does the song and dance to introduce Ted and Beard to George and vise versa, again assuring George that the mustache is okay, that it wasn’t that serious of a rule. He ends with: “School got unexpectedly canceled and his mum can’t take him today. Can he stay and watch training?” which Roy half hadn’t expected with how he acted when she first showed up with George.
“Keeley?” Ted asks, sounding kind of shocked and unsure what to do with that shock. It makes Roy want to snort at him, but he’s too dignified to do anything close to laughing where people can hear.
“Oh no, no. Liz. Me and her used to play footie at the estates, before I got scouted. I only met Keeley when I moved down here for me transfer,” Jamie quickly says.
“Alrighty, okay, no worries. George over here is more than welcome to watch practice,” Ted smiles broadly.
“Training,” Beard corrects.
“Ah, yes, training. Thank you, coach,” Ted says with a snap, making George giggle, which clearly pleases Ted greatly.
“Coach,” Beard nods back, because the two Americans are weird like that.
“Thanks, Coach,” Jamie tells Ted gratefully, sounding genuine for what might be the very first time since Ted’s arrival this year. It appears to take them both by surprise and Jamie instantly goes to cover it by clearing his throat and turning to George again. “Come on, lad, pee break if you wanna go out there with me.”
George whines with embarrassment, but goes to walk out the door as instructed.
Jamie follows him, but stops when he reaches the door. He glances down the hall, then turns his attention back to everyone, who have been gawking at him. He jabs his finger at all of them and completely serious, he says: “If this is on the cover of The Sun tomorrow, I’m ripping the balls of whoever did it, understood?”
Everyone is surprised by the threat. Despite Jamie’s general attitude in the day to day, he is more cutting than outwardly violent. Never really threatened anyone in the time he’s been there now that Roy thinks about it. It makes him respect Jamie for this threat and he follows the rest with his own nod.
“Good,” Jamie says, before turning and walking out to catch up with George and direct him to where the bathroom is.
Once he’s gone, the room explodes into noise again with everyone discussing everything that just went down. Isaac nudges Roy in the side, saying: “Did you see that coming, bruv? Jamie’s boy being a Kent fan.”
“Fuck off,” Roy growls, because if he actually answered that, it might become embarrassing for him too and he just gained the upper ground.
Isaac frowns at that, but lets it go with an eye roll, leaning over to where Colin is to gossip more.
After letting this go on for about another minute or so, Beard yells loudly to get everyone to quiet down. When they are quiet again, Ted speaks: “Ah, thank you for that, Coach. Now, I know that was all very exciting and unexpected, kind of like waking up that first time that the Elf on the Shelf moved. A little weird too, but still crazy yet fun. I get it. But we still got training to do. And we’re going to respect Jamie’s choices about his kid. Am I clear? No distractions, no being weird about it.”
“Yes, coach,” they all chorus, like a bunch of fucking preschoolers. Roy wonders when they all got embarrassing like that.
“Good. Now, onto the field with y’all.”
“Pitch, coach.”
“Ah, yeah, pitch. Thanks, coach.”
They’re just starting to run their first lap, they hear George’s voice echoing down the tunnel: “Quicker, daddy, or you’ll be late. You have to say sorry to the class when you’re late.”
“Can’t have that now can we,” they hear Jamie reply, before he comes running onto the field, jogging a little faster to catch up with everyone when he sees them close by still. George is on his back, shrieking with delight at the piggy back.
On the last stretch of that first lap, George is still on his back and Jamie doesn’t complain or get ready to make a move to put George down when they pass the coaches. The reason becomes clear when Ted calls out: “We can watch out for him, Jamie. No problem,” and George clutches Jamie tightly.
“It’s alright, Coach, I can manage,” Jamie calls back, a little out of breath, but on his back George relaxes slightly. Despite his grand entrance, egotistical dad and spitfire mum, George appears to be a bit on the shy side.
Jamie ends up running all the laps with George on his back, keeping up with everyone else despite the extra weight making it more difficult. Reluctantly, Roy respects him for that as well. G-d, what the fuck is today that Roy has had to begrudgingly respect Jamie Fucking Tartt twice.
Still, Jamie is clearly out of breath when they finish, putting George on the ground and then collapsing onto his back as he tries to catch his breath. George cheerily throws himself across his dad, knocking the wind out of Jamie’s lungs once more, even when he catches George in an embrace without complaint.
Ted looks on with a strange melancholic fondness, while the rest just stare. Roy isn’t proud to admit he’s also one of them, but he is. He can’t help it, it’s just too fucking weird.
“You did really well, daddy,” George says with a big smile.
“Tha- Ta, lad,” Jamie manages, catching his breath a bit more as he asks: “Wanna help me stretch?”
“Yes!” George exclaims, scrambling off Jamie and accidentally kneeing him in the side as he does. It’s a little funny to watch Jamie’s face and multiple people snicker.
As it turns out, helping Jamie stretch is actually Jamie stretching as George plasters himself to his back, arms thrown around Jamie’s neck under the guise of pushing him down more. He’s not actually being helpful, but Jamie is pretty good at pretending he is.
It makes Roy wonder if it’s a common thing for Jamie to work out while George uses him as a jungle gym. Roy didn’t figure out Phoebe just wanted to be a part of his day to day life until he was much older than Jamie – though to be fair, he didn’t have any reason to figure out childcare at Jamie’s age – and it makes him wonder how much time the two spend together, since it seems to be much more than could be assumed by what he overheard.
Before Roy can actually think about Jamie Tartt’s domestic life of all fucking things, Isaac asks: “So, George, bruv, you plat footie like your dad?”
The question is pretty basic seeing the circumstances, but it’s always a good opener when talking to kids that are fans and getting them to be comfortable. Of course, since George is part Tartt, he has to send them all spinning when he answers: “No, playing footie is boring, only watching footie is fun!”
Eyes nearly bulge out of sockets at that, since none of them can comprehend that being an answer for anyone. Jamie looks the closest to genuinely pained he’s ever done and that includes him having to ask Roy for a fucking autograph just now. Still, he doesn’t make an easy joke about it and instead forces cheer in his voice as he grimaces: “Nope, this sexy little lad likes climbing and tag.”
“And crafts!” George interjects, wanting to make sure his list of actual fun hobbies, that apparently doesn’t have fucking football on it, is complete.
“And crafts,” Jamie corrects himself, then adds: “but I ain’t good at those,” which might explain why he forgot to add it earlier. Him playing tag makes perfect sense to Roy, he has the mental age for it.
George pats Jamie’s head in a replica of something that’s been done to him and earnestly says: “Don’t worry, daddy, I like your drawings.”
Giggles ripple through the group again, but Jamie is a good sport about it, merely touching a hand to his chest as he goes: “I’m flattered,” before moving into his next stretch.
It’s still strange. How fucking good of a dad Jamie is.
Roy feels vaguely guilty for thinking that, for judging Jamie without having any reason, but he can’t help it. Jamie is the Prince Prick of all Pricks. The prickiest prick Roy has ever had the misfortune of meeting and he has met a lot of pricks. Jamie is childish and selfish and seems to find it incredibly difficult to conceptualize other people have feelings and that being nice is an option. None of that makes him good father material.
Yet from the second George showed up in that locker room, Jamie has been nothing but sweet to the boy. Unless you want to count the fight he had with Liz, but even then he made sure George wouldn’t hear them.
The whole thing is fucking confusing, that’s what it is. But in a good way. But also a bad way. Roy has had a very clear image of who Jamie is from the moment he arrived, maybe even before that if he’s being honest, and this Jamie is blowing all those expectations out of the fucking water, leaving Roy with… this.
This meaning how Jamie is acting with George, capable of being kind and patient and not a huge arsehole to anyone who might breathe in his direction and forcing Roy to reconsider if maybe, just maybe he had been too hard on the lad when he first got here. That maybe Roy had been wrong about him.
Admitting that to himself is not fucking comfortable in the slightest. But fucking Coach Lasso has been forcing him to admit he’s been a shit Captain and dropping the ball. It just sucks that the more he is aware of it, the more new shit he dropped becomes apparent. Fucking Lasso.
They do so more drills and Jamie gives George a piggy back ride through all of them. His arms must be fucking killing him, but he doesn’t complain. Not once.
It’s not until they go scrimmage that that has to change. Jamie puts George down again and kneels in front of him saying: “You ready to be my hype man, lad?”
“No, I wanna stay with you,” George immediately says, eyes big and pleading, his face suddenly so much like his father.
“I know,” Jamie sympathizes, cupping George’s cheek, “but it’s not safe. We’re kicking the ball pretty hard and you could get hurt, can’t have that, can I? So, you can’t come with me while I play, buuuuut, you can stay and watch with the coaches on the side.”
George pouts more, gripping Jamie tightly, like he can prevent Jamie from going out there to play if he just holds on tight enough. It’s adorable and a little heartbreaking. Roy wonders how Jamie deals with this clingy-ness in the day to day, especially since he didn’t appear to be too involved all the time… which honestly could be a reason for the clingy-ness.
And it fortunately means Jamie has practice in gently prying George off him, because he smiles gentle at him and again goes: “I know, lad, I know. But Coach over ‘ere,” he points to Ted, surprising everyone including Ted, “has a bunch of funny stories and,” he puts on a theatrical whisper, “he could use a few football tips from an expert like you.”
At that George giggles and Jamie grins: “Ah, there he is,” wrapping George into a hug and spinning him around as he gets the two up from the ground. When he puts George down at the end with a ruffle to his hair, George has let go of him and Jamie can go onto the pitch.