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Warnings: language, fluff, pining, sibling dynamics, anxiety
MINORS DNI.
A/N: BABESSS we are so back! I've been MIA for several silly (and some not so silly) reasons. For a long time, I've struggled to write given the state of things in the world, but I've come to the decision that even sweet and joyful things can be an act of resistance. Getting back to writing this fic made me smile this week, even as everything seems to be such a mess around me, and I hope it makes y'all smile, too. <3
Summary: Alex attends a funeral and tries to keep everyone around her from falling apart. She's also totally, completely, fine. She swears.
“THEODORE,” I shout in the general direction of his bedroom. “If you forget to replace the creamer one more freakin’ time, I’m gonna…” I trail off as I give the very empty carton a halfhearted shake, hoping for a few drops that are absolutely not there. I’m still trying to formulate a response with my inadequately-caffeinated brain when my phone buzzes on the counter.
New text from Jamie Tartt
Jamie: What the fuck is this supposed to be?
Alex: I believe scholars call that a “water bottle”
Jamie: Thanks, captain oblivious. Why was it in my bag?
Alex: The fellas and I are concerned you aren’t taking care of your body 🤷
Alex: At this point, you’re probably 84% sugary protein bars and energy drinks
Alex: If you’re not careful, the Jamie we know will cease to exist altogether…
Jamie: So you’re saying you think about my body 😏
Alex: …
Alex: Have a hydrated day, Jamie 😬
I’m staring down at my phone, face halfway between exasperated and entertained, when Ted emerges from the hallway with a stricken expression.
I put my phone down. “You look like one of those internet babies that just chomped on a lemon for the first time.” He flicks his gaze to me, eyes wide and panicked. “Jeez, Teddy, what’s wrong?”
He swallows audibly. “I just got off the phone with Rebecca,” Ted says, clenching and unclenching his hands. “It’s, uh, it’s her dad.”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
In the locker room, I lean back against the cool metal and shove my hands deep into the pockets of my denim overalls, hoping I can go relatively unnoticed by the players surrounding me. I’ve already tried joining in on the conversation in the coaches’ office, but I made up an excuse to come out with the guys - I don’t have it in me to sit and speculate about what happens after we die. I don’t have it in me for any of this, if I’m being honest with myself. But, you know, I don’t have a great history of that as it stands.
“Oi,” Isaac says, pulling me out of my thought spiral. “We’re all going to this funeral as a team.” I can’t help the small smile cracking its way across my carefully blank face - I love this secret softie. “So that means ties, and shirts…” Isaac pauses to throw a pointed look at Jamie, and I have to stifle a laugh when the man in question scoffs.
I can’t keep myself from butting in at this point. “And no trainers.”
The discontent is immediate and very vocal as the team turns to me in shock and outrage. Thierry is the first to speak up. “Okay, but what if they’re, like, really nice Yeezys?”
Isaac considers this for a moment, and I cross my arms. “What color?” I ask, and Thierry gives me a wide grin.
“Bright red,” he says, spreading his hands wide for emphasis. I narrow my eyes at him, and Isaac shakes his head no. “Ugh, okay. I’ll wear some dress shoes.”
Dani turns to me with a confused expression. “Beautiful Alex, where do you get dress shoes?”
Colin nods, frowning deeply. “Yeah, I don’t have time to stand in line at midnight and wait until morning to buy new shoes.”
Before I can respond, Jamie cuts in. “You don’t have to do that for shoes like these, mate.” He shakes his head sadly. “Nobody wants them.” I try to muffle my snort of laughter behind my hand, but he hears me anyway and shoots me a smug little look that has me rolling my eyes.
I place a comforting hand on Dani’s shoulder. “Do y’all have malls here?”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
Several hours and one amateur attempt at a movie-style shopping montage later (couldn’t help myself), I find myself climbing into Jamie’s car yet again for a ride home from Richmond Centre.
“Thanks for always drivin’ me places.”
“No problem,” he grins back. “It’s the chivalrous thing to do, ain’t it?”
I snort, earning a wink, but fall silent as I stare out the window, tracking the dreary scenery we pass on our way to Ted and my flat. For once, England’s near-perpetual drizzle isn’t at war with my mood.
“Do -” Jamie cuts himself off, clearing his throat. “Have you, y’know, been to many funerals?”
I almost miss the way he scrunches his eyebrows together and mouths what the fuck to himself, but I catch it out of the corner of my eye and have to fight back a smile. “Actually, I haven’t been to a single one, so this will be new and weird for me. As opposed to old and weird, which is my usual state of being.”
He focuses intently on the road ahead, not meeting my eyes. “Same.”
“Well…” I loose a heavy sigh. “Maybe it’ll be like a learnin’ experience. We’ll walk away with a stronger understanding of our own mortality, or some shit.” Jamie flicks his eyes to me, wearing that same brow-scrunched expression he tried to hide a few moments ago. I bite my lip - he really is criminally adorable. “Like how we’re all gonna die, eventually,” I clarify.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “That’s fucking dark.”
I shrug a shoulder. “Maybe so, but it’s also reality.” I glance at him, at his now-hooded expression, and try to quickly fix the dark mood I’ve imposed on the car. “But hey - at least we’re in it together.”
Jamie’s answering grin is quick and a little surprised, and if I wasn’t already sitting down it might bowl me over completely. He pulls up alongside the start of the pedestrian street leading to the flat that already feels like home and I gather my bag, climbing out of the sports car. Before I walk away, though, I lean back down and smile at him as I pull an orange out of my bag and toss it to him. “To replace those shitty protein bars.”
Jamie rolls his eyes, but I can tell there’s a distinct affection creeping across his face. He catches the orange like it’s second nature and winks at me. “Thanks for thinking about me body so much.”
“See you at the funeral,” I say, giving him finger guns as I walk backwards. “I’ll be the one in black.”
His laughter follows me to my door.
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
“Fuck,” I shout, flopping backward onto my bed.
Muffled footsteps are audible down the hall, and then Ted pokes his head into my room. “Did Roy Kent stop by, or was that my innocent baby sister I just heard?”
I roll my eyes. “For cryin’ out loud, Teddy, let it slide for once.”
He perches next to me, the dip of the mattress pulling me close enough to nudge him with my knee. “What’s got you so glum, chum?”
“Aside from the fact that we’re goin’ to a funeral?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. “I didn’t exactly have mournin’-chic in mind when I was debatin’ what clothes to pack when I moved.”
Ted grimaces. “Oh, that is a pickle. Well, I’d let you borrow some of my clothes, but I don’t think we’re quite the same size.”
I pull a pillow over my head and groan. “Not helping.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Ted says, yanking the pillow away. “You could always call Keeley - see if you can borrow somethin’ from her.”
I sit up straight and stare at him for a moment before reaching for my phone. “You’re alright, Ted Lasso, you know that?”
“Aw shucks, you’re makin’ me blush.”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
“Anyone home?” I call after using my shiny and relatively new ‘just in case and also for girl’s night and also also so you can water my plants because I always forget’ key to enter Keeley’s house.
“We’re up here!” she calls back, and I follow her voice up the stairs and into her bedroom. She looks perfect in a fluffy black dress with a bow in her hair - an adorable contrast to the looming mass of Roy Kent in all black next to her. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, yanking me into her closet. “I have options!”
“Good luck,” Roy calls after us.
Keeley shoves me down onto a tufted bench in her sprawling, walk-in closet with a wide smile. She turns and begins rifling through items on hangers. “Now just because it’s a funeral, doesn’t mean you have to look boring, yeah?”
I shrug. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“So,” she goes on like I haven’t even spoken, “you’re welcome to go through all my shit, obviously, but I picked out something I think you’ll like.”
Keeley turns, holding up a black, sleeveless, calf-length dress with a deep v-neck and a sheer, lace long sleeve shirt. She’s holding the hangers in one hand so it looks like the black lacy shirt is layered beneath the dress, and in her other hand she’s holding a silver beaded belt. It’s very Stevie Nicks and I immediately love it. She gestures to the black Docs I’m already wearing. “I thought this might be cute with the shoes you’ve got on, but like I said, it won’t hurt my feelings if -”
I cut her off by standing quickly to grab the items and give her a hug. “It’s perfect, Keels. You’re perfect.”
“Oh good, okay! I’ll just wait out here then,” she says, leaving me alone in her closet to change. I have my shirt halfway off, completely obscuring my face, when she shouts from the other room. “Hey, Alex?”
“Yeah?” I shout back, slightly muffled.
“What do you want to happen to your body when you die?”
“Jeez, Keeley, way to make a gal feel warm and fuzzy.”
I can hear Roy snort and the quieter, muffled sound that is likely Keeley smacking his chest. “I’m serious! Roy won’t tell me, and I want to know what other people think.”
I bite my lip and continue changing. “I don’t know, Keels - it ain’t like I’ve put a lot of thought into it.” I cross my fingers and hope she can’t tell I’m lying through my teeth. “I guess if I had to say somethin’, though… I’d probably wanna be cremated. Spread the Alex love around, you know? Sprinkle a little bit of me by my dad’s grave, let Ted have some for when he gets all weepy and sentimental, and then some of me can get spread out in some place really cool like the middle of the ocean… or a Mountain Goats concert.”
There’s a beat of silence where I’m afraid I’ve said too much, made it too weird (classic Alex move right there), before Keeley sighs deeply. “Thank you - see, Roy? That’s a normal answer. Well, mostly.”
“This funeral is really messing with your head, innit?” Roy asks in a quiet voice that I don’t think is entirely meant to be heard by me.
Keeley ignores him completely and continues speaking loud enough for me to hear. “I found this company, and they bury you in a biodegradable sack so when your body decomposes, it fertilizes the seeds of a fruit tree. That’s what I want, because then you and you and all the other people that love me can eat the fruit from my tree!”
I hum in thought as I lace up my Docs, but Roy’s scoff covers the sound. “That’s fucking mental,” he says.
“Coming from the guy that wants me to ruin a bus driver’s life just because he killed you swerving to avoid a child?”
“I didn’t know about the fucking child!” Roy cries, exasperated.
I step into the room, fully dressed, and clear my throat. “I have the distinct impression I missed a very important part of this conversation.”
Keeley looks away from Roy and her glare morphs into a grin. “You look gorgeous, babes!”
I spread out an invisible wrinkle self-consciously. “That’s all thanks to my stylist. You should give her a call next time you have a big event.”
Keeley giggles, but her heart isn’t in it.
“Listen, y’all,” I say, looking between her and Roy. “I don’t know what this twisted trolley problem business is all about, but I do know that death is weird and hard and we all handle it in different ways. Keels, if you go before me, I would be honored to eat fruit from your tree. And when you die in a few short weeks of old age, Roy, I promise to pour one out for you and flip off the minister at your funeral. In the meantime, though, don’t you think we should get going to the service that’s actually happenin’ today?”
Roy rolls his eyes at me, but I can see the beginnings of an affectionate grin forming on his face as Keeley sweeps me into another hug. “You were a shaman or some shit in a past life, Alex - I just know it.”
“Based on a recurring dream of mine I was actually a tightrope walker in a circus, but that’s a story for another day.”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
Alex: We just left, but you’re probably already there, early bird.
Alex: We’re just pulling up, you here?
Alex: Earth to Ted? Stop telling everyone stories for five seconds and text me back.
Alex: Ted, seriously, are you okay?
I stumble a bit on the cobblestone path as I follow Roy and Keeley to the church, but I still don’t look up.
Roy glances back, ready to steady me. “Still nothing?”
I finally tear my eyes from my phone and shake my head. “Nope.” His eyes flick between me and the place Keeley was standing five seconds ago, before she squealed and ran off. The place is already quite busy, and I spot a Richmond FC bus parked up the street a bit. I try to smile reassuringly, but it’s probably more of a grimace. “Don’t worry about it, he’s probably already in there somewhere makin’ ten to fifteen new best friends.”
Roy looks about as convinced as I feel, but we both seem to be making the same mental calculation as we finally enter the church and spot Rebecca, so I try to put my worry over my brother in the far corner of my mind and worry about the person in front of me instead.
The universe laughs at this immediately.
“Sassy and Ted, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G.” Keeley clearly doesn’t know that I’ve come up behind her as she does a little thrusting dance toward the woman she’s standing with. Roy just grimaces in my direction.
“I’m gonna be honest, I coulda gone my entire life without that mental image.”
Keeley whirls, spotting me. “Shit, Alex - I thought you were still… Shit.”
I wave a hand, wanting nothing more than to sprint in the opposite direction. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll survive, probably. Maybe. At least you know my wishes now if I do succumb to death-by-horror, though.” My eyes go wide as an elderly woman cuts me a glare while she toddles past me to find a seat. “Probably shouldn’t say that too loud at a funeral.”
The woman standing next to Keeley looks me over, and I can see the realization dawning as she takes in my hair, my dimples, my accent. “Oh shit, you’re Ted’s sister.”
I nod, lips pressed together in an uncomfortable smile. “Alex.”
She reaches out a hand. “I’m Rebecca’s oldest and coolest friend. Sassy.”
I give her hand a gentle shake, cocking my head to the side. “Like the Smurf?”
She glances at Keeley with a horrified expression. “Oh my god.”
Keeley nods, giving Sassy’s shoulder a comforting pat. “I know, babes. I know.”
“So you’re f… you’re seeing my brother?” I cross my arms and try to make my face look vaguely human-like.
Keeley looks between Sassy and I for a moment, our equally uncomfortable expressions before clapping her hands. “I think Rebecca has a secret boyfriend!” We gasp in unison. “For, like, weeks.”
I allow the conversation to be steered away from my brother with gratitude. “No shit?”
Sassy looks thoughtful. “Now, is today an inappropriate day to inquire slash badger her into telling us who?”
Keeley grins. “We’ll never know unless we try.”
We’re interrupted by an influx of footballers entering the church, Jamie at the lead. He looks, quite frankly, devastating in his crisp suit. So devastating, in fact, that a small gasp escapes me. Keeley lights up like an evil little gremlin at the sound and Sassy gets a knowing look in her eye, so I scramble to move past it before Jamie notices.
“Lookin’ sharp, Tartt.” Jamie’s answering grin is cocky, so I force my gaze to scan the rest of the men. “All of you clean up nice.” I don’t return my eyes to Jamie, even though I can feel the burn of his.
Keeley gives me an impish grin before noticing Nate’s crooked tie, and the ever-fashionable woman can’t help but be a friend and straighten it. “Is this the suit Ted got you?”
“What, this?” Nate looks nervous, and it’s all I can do to avoid smacking Keeley’s arm. “Mmm, I can’t remember. Uh, yes. Yeah. Yes. Yeah, it’s… yeah.” Poor kid.
Keeley nods, oblivious to the fact that some of us feel a little thing called embarrassment. “It’s really nice!”
Jan makes a face. “Another man buying you clothes is infantilizing, yes?”
Keeley reels back. “Whoah.”
“Jan Middle Name Maas,” I say, smacking his arm. He looks confused. “Remember how we talked about inside thoughts and outside thoughts?” He nods slowly. “Yeah, my guy. That was firmly in the inside category.” Jan looks appropriately chastened and the rest of the fellas chuckle, dissolving some of the tension from the space.
I finally let my gaze settle back on Jamie, who appears to have been watching me the entire time. “You look… fucking…” he scratches the back of his head as he searches for words. “Wow.”
I look down to hide my blush, and - intentionally or not - Colin saves me from having to respond. “You look wicked, Alex. Like Stevie Nicks and an Etsy witch had a very cool baby.”
Keeley grins at him. “That, Colin, is precisely what I was aiming for.”
“That person exists and her name is Luna Lovegood, thank you very much,” I say, earning confused looks from most of the group. I wave a hand. “Never mind, nerd shit.” Classic Alex, trying to geek out with a room of sports people.
Jamie opens his mouth, probably to say something funny and unintentionally devastating about how weird I am, but Roy ambles up and cuts him off with an overly loud crunch.
Keeley narrows her eyes. “Is that a fucking apple?”
“Yeah,” he grins. “Got it from a tree outside.”
I elbow him in the stomach, causing him to spit out the piece of apple with a loud oof. It lands on the floor in the exact center of our little circle and we all stare at it for a few moments.
“SASSY,” I say loudly, and she zeroes in on me with an expression that says she’s reading my mind a little. I understand, in this moment, how my brother could be very, very charmed by her. “Why don’t you and Keeley go find Rebecca? I bet she’s somewhere needin’ a little support from her best friends.” She nods once and herds Keeley toward the back of the church, and once they’re out of earshot I whirl on Roy.
“What?” he asks, mouth full with another bite of apple.
I rip it out of his hand and shove it at a very confused Colin, who takes it delicately between two fingers. “My brother in christ, if you don’t get your shit together real quick, that goddess back there is headin’ for greener pastures.” Jamie snorts and Roy cuts him a sharp glare. “I get that bein’ irreverent and unserious is, like, your entire copin’ mechanism, but you’re a grown ass man and also that’s my shtick, so knock it off.”
He reels. “I didn’t fucking–”
I hold up a hand. “Yes you did, Grumpy Smurf, so take a walk around the block and come back with a new attitude.” I storm off after Sassy and Keeley before he can respond, not allowing myself to peek over my shoulder to see if Jamie is watching me walk away.
📷 📷 📷 📷 📷 📷
Jamie Tartt watches Alex storm away, not tearing his eyes from her retreating figure until several moments after she’s out of sight. He claps Roy on the shoulder, hoping nobody notices how absolutely and hopelessly gone he is. “Cheer up, Grandpa.” Roy scoffs and storms off in the opposite direction. “Wow, tough crowd.”
The rest of the team disperses into the church, leaving only Jamie and Dani standing in the aisle.
“I hate dress shoes so much, Jamie,” Dani says, cursing in Spanish.
Jamie pats him on the back amicably. “I know, muchacho. ‘Cause remember, they ain’t made for people like us.” Dani nods. “They’re made for sheep. They’re made for muggles. They’re made for twats.”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
I get a bit lost looking for where Keeley and Sassy have gone, so I wander through the halls of the church for a bit. I admire the stained glass, the architecture, the sheer ancientness - a quality buildings in America certainly do not possess. Eventually, I pass Beard, who takes a break from a very disturbing conversation with Jane to nod at me. I nod back and take another corner, trying to get away from that energy as quickly as possible, and almost run headfirst into Sam.
“Shoot, sorry, Sam! Don’t mind me, I’m just escapin’ Beard and his spooky girlfriend.”
Sam grins at me. “Perhaps I should not walk in that direction, then.”
“Absolutely not.”
He turns and we walk in a friendly silence for a few paces, winding our way back to the front of the church. Eventually, he slows his pace and clears his throat. “Alex?” I nod, still admiring pieces of the church. “Have you, uh, have you spoken with Rebecca today?”
I turn my attention back to him, noting his concerned expression. “Um, not really, she was talkin’ to–” I freeze. His concerned expression. Rebecca’s secret boyfriend. Sam’s Bantr Woman. My jaw drops. “Jesus fuckin’ christ, Samuel!”
The sound of rustling echoes in the sanctuary as several graying heads whip in my direction. I wince. “Amen!” I say loudly. They look away, still grumbling, as Sam stares down at me with a shocked expression. I wave a hand. “Oh, they’ll get over it. But I may never get over the fact that you - are - sleeping - with - our - BOSS.” I punctuate each word with a smack to his chest.
Sam reels back, eyes even wider, mouth agape. “What - how did you, how - what do you…” He takes in my now-smug expression. “I mean… I am most certainly not doing that.”
“Sure, and I ain’t seventy three percent cornbread. Come on, Sam.”
He sighs deeply and runs a hand down his face. “Alex, you have to promise me you will not tell anyone.”
“Just call me the Chamber of Secrets, Sam, except without the… y’know, I really need to retire that expression. Just takes too much context. I promise I won’t, but,” I point at him sternly. “To buy my silence, you’ve got a whole bunch of explainin’ to do.” Dani and Isaac walk by, talking animatedly about something as Dani gestures wildly to his feet, and Sam gives me a pleading look. “Later,” I say, holding my hands up. “In a secure location.”
He chuckles despite himself and shakes his head. “If that is the price I must pay,” he says, and I grin.
Dani beckons him over, and Sam glances back at me. “Oh, go on, you big secret-keeper.”
He smiles gratefully and heads over to join the team, leaving me standing in the corner alone. I briefly consider following him, but as I glance around the church, a realization hits me and my blood runs cold. I grab my phone out of my bag and unlock it frantically, but there are no new messages. “This is not good,” I mumble to myself, voice shaky, and I try to type out yet another message to my brother with shaky thumbs. I mess up, erase, try again. Mess up, erase. Finally I give up, dropping my phone back into my bag and slumping against the old, stone wall behind me.
“Everything all right over here?”
I open my eyes to see Sassy, looking concerned and a bit awkward. I wipe at my cheeks quickly and force a smile. “Fine as frog’s hair, how about you?”
She gives me a flat look. “You lie about as smoothly as your brother. Who is where, by the way?” She watches my expression crumple and nods quickly once. “Right, come with me.” I let her lead me down a hall and through the side door of the church into a little enclosed courtyard, where she pulls me down to sit on a bench. “Alright, out with it, then.”
“You met me like five minutes ago, Sassy. I get that you have somethin’ goin’ with my brother and all, but you don’t have to do this.”
She sits for a moment, allowing the silence to build a little, before leaning back and meeting my eyes. “Did Ted tell you I’m a child psychologist?”
I wince. “He didn’t tell me about you at all, actually.” Her eyebrows raise. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head. “No, no need. I’m sort of impressed, honestly. I would’ve thought he’d be the type to blabber on about everything to everyone.”
I shrug. Sniffle. “He contains multitudes.”
“Indeed he does,” she says, looking into the distance with a smug little smile.
“Okay, ew!”
Sassy grins at me, unrepentant. “If you won’t talk, I’m going to have to fill the silence somehow - we can’t just sit here. I suppose I could tell you about the time we met, how I went to his hotel room and–”
“Fine!” I say, holding my hands up in surrender. “Jeez, as if one funeral ain’t enough today, you’re tryin’ to kill me, too.” She chuckles, and I sigh deeply. “I’m gonna tell you somethin’ about my brother, well it’s about my family, which obviously includes my brother - but you can’t tell him I told you. He doesn’t like to talk about this sort of thing.”
Her expression settles into something more open, less humorous. “Alright, sure. Just between us, then.”
I nod. “Our dad died when Ted was sixteen.” Her eyes widen a little, but she maintains a calm expression. “Our, uh, our mom was still pregnant. Y’know, with me. So I never knew him, obviously, but Ted… I know he puts on a good front, but I think it really messed him up. He didn’t really deal with it at the time - he didn’t even go to the funeral - and then our mom had me, and he took on all this extra stuff to help her out, and he was such a good big brother, and he just. I don’t know, he just kept goin’. And now he ain’t even here, and I’m just worried it’s all sort of hittin’ him at once, you know?”
Sassy is silent for a moment, and I can see in her face that she’s truly processing everything I’ve said - honestly taking it all in - and I can see how she’d be very good at her job. She hums a little before turning more fully in my direction. “And how are you feeling right now, Alex?”
“Worried about Ted, like I told you, because he’s always so–”
She cuts me off with a gentle nod. “I know, I heard you, but what are you feeling aside from worry for Ted? How are you doing with all of this?” She waves a hand around the space, the church, the day.
My brow furrows. “I’m fine, Sass, I told you I never even met our dad. This is about Ted.” She just watches me, quiet. “You can’t miss someone you never even met. Ted’s the one who had all these memories of the guy, all this baggage to deal with. All I got was a pair of cute dimples and some hand-me-down blazers.” She hums, and I narrow my eyes. “I’m serious, I’m fine.”
She nods, though it looks somewhat uncertain. “Okay, if you say you’re fine, you’re fine.” Noise from within the church starts to rise, and we both stand without really meaning to. “We should get back in there, but if I can overstep a bit here?” I nod, knowing already she’s the kind of person to do it whether or not I give her permission. “It doesn’t have to be today, but could you try to give yourself permission to have your own feelings? Even just a little bit?”
A few people cross through the courtyard, nodding to us, and I straighten instinctively. I squeeze her arm and smile at her. “Damn, Sassy. Do you come with a warnin’ label?” I head for the church before she can stop laughing long enough to respond.
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
Since Ted arrived so late, I take a rideshare over to Rebecca’s childhood home with him instead of Keeley and Roy, wanting a chance to talk. I lose my nerve the second we start driving, though, and we spend a few minutes in silence.
He clears his throat uncomfortably. “That, uh, that was a nice service, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “Really, Ted?”
He chuckles darkly. “Yeah, alright.” Tall, beautiful homes pass by out the window, and the driver hums along to a song I haven’t heard before. “I had a rough mornin’.”
“Ted.” I shake my head. “I’m not twelve, okay? You can talk to me like I’m a grownup, ‘cause I am one.”
He sighs deeply. “I was thinkin’ about Dad.”
I snort. “No shit, Sherlock.”
He whips his head to face me with a scandalized expression. “Hey, now!”
I roll my eyes again, but there’s a bit of a smile creeping in now. “Fine. No duh, detective.”
“Much better. Sheesh, some people’s little sisters.” I laugh despite myself, and he smiles tentatively. “I called the Doc, actually. Sharon. Dr. Fieldstone. Whatever.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You did?” He nods, and I swear he looks proud of himself. “Well, don’t leave me hangin’, how’d it go?”
The car pulls to a stop outside the tallest, most beautiful home on the block and the driver gives a little toot of his horn to get the car ahead of us to pull forward. Ted grins at me. “Saved by the horn.” He climbs out of the car and waits for me beside the open door.
“Jesus, why does the universe keep edgin’ me today?” I mutter under my breath as I follow him out.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nevermind.”
📷 📷 📷 📷 📷 📷
Jamie spots Keeley standing at the refreshment table and takes a deep breath, shaking his fingers out.
“Hi, Jamie, do you want a drink?” Keeley asks, smiling.
Jamie shifts nervously, biting his lip. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Don’t really know where to start, to be honest. I’m a bit all over the place.”
Keeley smiles kindly at him. “You want to start with a beer?”
He grins, but it’s melancholy - self deprecating. “Uh, no, thank you.” Jamie scratches his neck and thinks, not for the first time, that he should probably just shut up and turn around and go home. “Um, listen, Keeley. I know today’s been a lot already, and that you’re busy with Roy and Rebecca and everybody, but… Today’s made me realize that life’s short, yeah?” She nods slowly, trying to follow him. “What you and I had was… I mean, I think that I’m finally becoming the best version of myself, the kind of man that you always knew I could be. And maybe sometimes a guy just has to go for it, even if he’s scared, or nervous, or an idiot, or–”
Keeley cuts him off with a nervous expression. “What are you trying to say, Jamie?”
“This might be weird to ask because of, you know,” he gestures between the two of them and Keeley’s eyes narrow. “But I think we’re friends now, again, finally, and I really trust you, and…” She gives him a look, and he throws up his hands. “Fuck’s sakes. Do you think it would be stupid if I asked Alex out?”
Keeley looses a big breath of air, a relieved expression on her face. “God, Jamie, you really had me going there for a minute!” He furrows his brows. “You’re really worked up about this, aren’t you?” He nods fervently, but before he can respond, Roy ambles up and joins them.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he says, kissing Keeley’s cheek. “What are you and shithead here talking about?”
Jamie rolls his eyes, but Keeley smiles conspiratorially. “Jamie was just asking me if I think he should ask Alex out. On a date.”
Jamie looks skyward. “Fucks sakes, Keeley, did you have to tell him of all people?”
Roy frowns deeply. “Of course he shouldn’t, she’s too fucking good for him.”
Keeley swats his chest. “Oh, stop it. Jamie,” she says, turning to him. “I think that sharing how you feel with someone, as long as you’re kind and careful and don’t do it at a funeral,” she narrows her eyes meaningfully. “I think it’s never the wrong thing to do, yeah? Even if she says no, being honest is important.”
Jamie pales. “You think she’d say no?”
Keeley sighs. “Jamie, that’s not the point! I’m saying you should tell her how you feel, respectfully, no matter what she says, because you’re working on yourself and you’re a good person, and hearing someone likes you is always a nice feeling.”
Roy flicks his eyes between the now-spiraling Jamie and Alex, who is kneeling on the floor across the room, holding a pair of slippers as she helps Dani ease his dress shoes off, and somehow still continuing to glance over in Jamie’s direction. “Fuuuuuuuuckkk,” he sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Look, Tartt, you’re a real dick sometimes, and I meant it when I said Lasso’s too good for you, but you’d have to be a fucking idiot to miss how she looks at you. Which, I guess you fucking are.”
Keeley and Jamie look at him with mirrored expressions of shock and awe, and Keeley goes up on tiptoes to kiss him once, on the mouth. “That,” she says, “was very, very sweet.”
Eyes only for Keeley now, Roy takes her hand. “Come with me for a second, I owe you a big fucking apology.”
She grins widely. “Of course you do.” Keeley turns to Jamie, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Good luck.”
Jamie nods weakly as the couple walks away. “Yeah. Good luck. Alright.” He fucking needs it.
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
“Next time, Dani, listen to me when I tell you to get the comfy pair, even if they’re butt ugly.” Dani nods fervently, giving me a quick hug before limping off toward the team bus in his borrowed fluffy slippers.
I shake my head and walk through the crowd of people, giving Rebecca a tight hug before standing next to my brother. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Rebecca holds up a hand to stop her mother from saying something, and the two women and Ted chuckle. “Thank you for being here, Alex,” Rebecca says, giving my shoulder a fond squeeze. “Ted here was just reminding us how much my father liked to make me laugh, and I think he would have enjoyed the brightness you bring to Richmond.”
I blush and look down at my feet. “Shucks, Boss, you’re gonna give a gal a big head over here.”
Ted glances over his shoulder and I follow his gaze, seeing Sassy standing alone near the street. He shifts uncomfortably, looking from her to me and back to her again. “Did you, uh, did you meet…” He trails off as Rebecca suppresses what sounds suspiciously like a fit of giggles.
I roll my eyes yet again. “Yes, Theodore, I met the woman you’ve been gettin’ up to no good with.” I stare at him. “We had a whoooleee looonggg conversation,” I say, drawing out the words and allowing him to make his own (probably incorrect) conclusions about what we discussed.
He closes his eyes briefly, as if praying for guidance or perhaps a universe in which he is an only child. He opens his eyes to find me grinning widely at him. His prayer is not answered. “Well, goodnight,” he says, and Rebecca and her mother well and truly break into laughter. He drags me away from them, allowing other people to move through the line saying their goodbyes and condolences.
With one more surreptitious glance at Sassy, he meets my eyes and leans toward me. “Alex, for the next few minutes I’m gonna pretend you’re an adult, alright?” he says, voice whispered and intense.
I glare at him. “I’m twenty three, but whatever.”
“I’ve had a hell of a day,” he says, ignoring my theatrical gasp at his rapid-fire curse. “And I don’t know what’s up or down with that woman over there, but I’d really like to keep tryin’ to figure it out. So I’m beggin’ ya, for the love of Bon Elvis or whoever it is you’re listenin’ to these days, could you possibly not give me ten rounds before ya decide to give me mercy and spend the night at Keeley’s?” I gape at him dumbly for a few moments, and he grimaces. “Pretty please?”
I look at him, really look at my brother, at the lines of his face and the faintest circles beneath his eyes and the tension in his shoulders and the truly, objectively beautiful woman making an indecent face in his direction and sigh deeply. “Someday, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do a service for me, and –”
He cuts me off before I can finish quoting The Godfather at him with a swift pat on the back. “Thanks, Sis, I owe ya.” And with that, my big brother disappears around the corner with Sassy.
I frown deeply. “Still gross.” I catch a flash of blonde hair across the cobblestones. “Hey, Keels!” I shout. “I’m gonna need to ask you for a favor!”
My lovesssss how are you all? What is new? I haven't written a word in ages because the world is on fire and everything is chaos, but I opened tumblr for the first time in a while today and had some very sweet messages. So, I'm writing again. I think that sometimes, writing these silly sweet little stories is its own kind of resistance. More soon <3
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When is Chapter 7 of the Jamie Tartt x OFC estimated to come out? I am absolutely obsessed and love your writing!!
Okay I'm a million years late on answering this but bestieeee you've made my YEAR! I have been MIA for several silly (and not so silly) reasons, but we are soooo back! Anon, it will be out by next week at the latest, just for you <3
Warnings: language, fluff, pining, sibling dynamics, anxiety
MINORS DNI.
A/N: I'm baaaaaack! Thank you all so much for your patience with me. I don't want to jinx it, but I think I'm getting my mojo for writing back now that my few weeks solid of doctor's visits are done for a bit. Fingers crossed!
P.S. Apparently I'm incapable of writing a fic without a karaoke scene.
Summary: After the Man City game, the team needs to let off some steam.
As the Uber pulls up to the karaoke bar, Jamie Tartt is doing what Jamie Tartt does best: maintaining a cool exterior while trying desperately to ignore the swirling tornado of thoughts in his mind.
He isn’t anxious. He isn’t intensely aware of every word and movement made in front of this woman he really barely even likes (really, he swears). He isn’t preoccupied with thoughts of how he punched his dad in the face like an hour ago. He doesn’t feel like a total fucking failure for losing the Man City game.
Another thing Jamie Tartt is really great at is lying to himself.
He’s finally pulled from his (super low-key and not at all obvious) thought spiral when Alex gives him a nudge with her shoulder.
“You ready, Freddy?” she asks, all but socking him in the stomach with that crooked, dimpled grin of hers.
Jamie nods, the comfortable mask of a cocky footballer taking over his features as easy as breathing. “‘Course I am.”
The pair exit the car behind a gaggle of other teammates and he follows Alex into the bar, giving himself permission for a few sweet moments to simply watch her walk. This semi-makeover from Keeley was honestly driving him a little crazy - it was still Alex, still that specific look he’d grown to expect and appreciate, but it was elevated. It was fancier, it was sleeker… it was hotter.
Colin elbows him, nodding to the woman walking in front of them once he has Jamie’s attention. “You’re staring, boyo.”
“Am not,” Jamie mutters, glaring. Colin gives him a flat, disbelieving look. It’s fine - Jamie doesn’t really believe himself, either.
The crew is occupied for a little bit placing their drink orders, finding seats, and making space for the final stragglers. Jamie probably wouldn’t have even noticed the last few people trickling in if it wasn’t for Alex jumping into the air and making a sound Jamie isn’t sure he’s heard from her before.
“Em!” Alex cries, hugging the woman Jamie’s seen on Richard’s arm from time to time. “I’m so glad you came. Bein’ alone with these fellas for too long feels a little bit like I imagine Jane Goodall felt hangin’ out with all those chimpanzees - I understand ‘em better than I should, and that fact honestly scares me.”
The woman laughs and kisses Alex on both cheeks, a motion Alex accepts but doesn’t reciprocate. Alex scoots her chair over to make room for the woman - Emmanuel, Jamie thinks - and Richard, inadvertently pressing her side against Jamie in the process.
“Whoops,” she says, glancing at him. “Sorry for gettin’ all up in your space here, Jamie. Just tryin’ to make room for everyone.”
Jamie forces a casual grin despite the scorching he now feels where the curve of her hip is pressed against his leg. “No worries, love - you can get even closer if you like.” He probably deserves an award for his ability to not stare directly at the now-exposed length of Alex’s thighs as she crosses one leg over the other in her borrowed black dress.
She simply rolls her eyes and turns back to Emmanuel, striking up a conversation about a French pastry shop the woman had apparently recommended to Alex. I like French pastries, Jamie thinks to himself.
He’s pulled from his thoughts yet again when Isaac stands and claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Oi! I’m sending around the sign-up sheet for songs, and you’re all going to fucking sing one, yeah?”
Jamie shakes his head as the paper comes his way, not having thought far enough ahead to register that he would have to sing something when he suggested karaoke to Alex. He’d simply been trying to make this night last a little longer, stave off being alone with what happened between him and his father for just a few extra hours. He writes down “Benny and the Jets” because it’s the only song that comes to mind before passing it to Alex.
Peering over her shoulder incredibly conspicuously, he watches her put the pen to her lips in thought, pursing them slightly. Jamie clears his throat and runs a hand down his face, wishing for a moment that he could be that pen.
“Hey, you good?” Alex asks quietly, leaning close.
He forces another cocky grin, not looking directly at her. “‘Course I am.” His mantra for the night.
She squints at him a little before shrugging. “Alright, if you say so.” She scribbles something down on the page before passing it to Emmanuel, all of it much too fast for Jamie to make anything out.
A tray of shots arrives, ordered by god knows who, and they’re passed around to the entire group. Alex clinks hers delicately against Jamie’s and the pair tip the glasses back in tandem. Jamie barely notices the liquor going down, but Alex grimaces and purses her lips, shaking her head. He can’t help but chuckle.
She side-eyes him. “I know, I know - what kind of American can’t take a shot, right?”
Jamie smirks back. “I didn’t say a thing.”
“No,” she counters. “But you were thinkin’ real loud.”
His laughter is interrupted by Isaac loudly taking the mic, making himself the emcee for the evening. “Right,” he says. “I’ll start since I’m captain, yeah?”
“Who died and made him king of England,” Alex mutters, crossing her arms in front of her chest in a way that draws Jamie’s eyes someplace very specific. He shakes his head to regain focus, turning to watch the stage as Isaac takes the mic and the rest of the crowd realizes exactly what group has joined them this evening.
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
Jamie looks nervous when he takes the stage - an expression I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear before. As the first few notes of the song kick on, I grin widely and clap my hands - he’s chosen a real crowd pleaser. Well, an Alex pleaser, at least. It doesn’t take long for his nervousness to give way to his trademark confidence, though, and when he starts singing the song, I’m honestly shocked by how good his voice is.
Emmanuel elbows me, her eyebrows as raised as my own. “He is very good,” she says.
I nod, words impossible as I listen to him sing. He’s really working the crowd, too - he’s got ladies fawning over him, and I know it’s not just because he’s famous. There’s almost a rockstar-like quality to him as he dances on the stage, and I find myself mesmerized.
I’m jostled from my trance, though, when Jamie nears the final chorus and points directly at me. Eyebrows in the stratosphere, I look behind me to make sure he’s not looking at someone else. Still singing along, he rolls his eyes, points at me again, and motions toward the stage.
“Allez, allez!” Emmanuel says, shoving me out of my seat. I shed my flannel, hoping my nervousness is sloughed off alongside it, and approach the stage with as much confidence as I can muster.
“Benny!” Jamie sings before pointing the mic at me.
I grin widely, understanding now, and echo him with a “Benny!” of my own. He grabs my hand and hoists me up onto the stage, and we finish the song together - me echoing him again and again, more laughter than melody as the crowd looks on.
After the final note, Jamie takes a dramatic bow, grabbing my hand again and yanking me into a bow next to him. The crowd cheers, certainly more for him than for me, but I grin out at the sea of faces anyway. Without dropping my hand, Jamie springs off the stage and holds his other hand up, gripping my waist in a way that has me nearly breathless as he helps me hop down. We stand, frozen, for just a few moments until the crowd starts to press in, wanting to talk to the famous Jamie Tartt. I always do my damndest to see the best in people, but in this moment I hate every single one of them.
Except, Jamie doesn’t look at any of the people pressing closer to him, regardless of how attractive they appear to be. Instead, without dropping my hand, he leads me in the opposite direction of our VIP table toward the bar where he orders us both a shot with a fruity-sounding name. Folks seem intent to keep a respectful distance now that Jamie’s shown zero attention.
“Eh, thanks for being me backup singer,” he says, toasting me with his shot glass.
I mirror him and shoot it back, this drink going down much easier than the straight liquor earlier. “I’ll be your backup singer anytime, Jamie,” I say, looking up at him through my eyelashes as the alcohol hits my system.
He looks down at the counter, thumbing the rim of his shot glass. “Alex, d’you think that maybe -”
Jamie is interrupted by Isaac calling my name, and I hear the first few notes of my song picking up. “Shoot, Jamie - this is my song,” I say, feigning lightness. Whatever he was going to say clearly has some weight to it, and I’m not sure if I want him to finish or not.
He waves a casual hand, accepting a new drink from the bartender. “No worries - go on, then.”
📷 📷 📷 📷 📷 📷
Alex grins widely and Jamie watches her fondly as she all but skips up to the stage to take the mic from Isaac, dancing in place a little to the strumming of the ukulele.
“Happiness hit her like a train on a track,” Alex sings, and Jamie thinks he understands what it means to be hit by something like a train. He feels it every time Alex smiles at him - just like she’s doing right this second as her song continues. Like everyone, Jamie’s heard it a thousand times on the radio back when it was first popular, but for some reason it sounds completely different coming from Alex.
Her singing voice is airy, gentle, with a little trill to it - nothing like the loud presence her speaking voice brings. Though, that could just be the accent, Jamie considers. Regardless, she sounds soft and sweet and like something he could hold in his hand, and he’s almost bowled over by the genuine affection pulsing through him.
Sure, Alex is gorgeous. Hot, even. Jamie enjoys the view and he’s heard plenty of his teammates express the same sentiment. But this isn’t physical. It isn’t lust. It isn’t what he’s felt every time he’s met a woman at a club and taken her home. And it isn’t even what he felt with Keeley, which was certainly the closest to love he’s ever come in a relationship.
As he watches Alex jump around on the stage, dancing and laughing and having the best time, Jamie realizes this feeling is something new and different and right fucking terrifying, if he’s being completely honest. “I’m fucked,” he whispers to himself.
“I know, boyo,” Colin says, patting him on the shoulder.
Jamie jumps, spilling some of his drink on his shirt in the process. “Jesus, Colin, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Colin grins back boyishly. “Sorry, I thought you knew I was here.”
“Obviously I didn’t,” Jamie says, gesturing to his spill with an eye roll.
“So then that little comment wasn’t for me?”
Jamie shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t, and if you tell anyone about it I’ll… I’ll… I’ll be really fucking angry,” he says, losing some steam.
Colin just chuckles. “Whatever you say, mate.”
Alex appears just as Colin wanders off, out of breath with flushed cheeks. “Howdy!” she says, leaning on the bar next to Jamie. “They don’t tell ya what a dang workout that is.”
Jamie chuckles. “You looked good up there,” he says without meeting her eyes, acting like he’s scanning the crowd nonchalantly. He can feel the press of Alex’s gaze, though.
“You think so?” she asks, voice softer than usual. Before he can respond, though, she’s reaching forward and grabbing at his shirt. “What the hell did you do, take a shower?”
He shrugs, finally meeting her eyes. “Spilled me drink.” He pretends he doesn’t feel the weight of her fingers against his chest.
“Stay put for a sec, alright? Be right back.” Before he can really process, Alex is slipping off through the crowd in the direction of the VIP booth where the rest of the team is sitting. She turns several heads on the way, stirring up an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of Jamie’s stomach.
Seeing the opportunity, a woman slides up next to Jamie at the bar. “Are you Jamie Tartt?” she asks, not an ounce of subtlety in the words.
Not taking his eyes off the direction Alex went, Jamie offers the woman a small grin. “Last I checked.”
She giggles, sipping her drink. He’s sure that if he looked at her, she’d be batting her eyelashes at him, but he’s still watching for Alex. Who, as it turns out, pops up from a completely different direction with her flannel in hand.
“Here ya go, Jon Snow.” She hands the shirt out to him and he takes it with knit eyebrows.
“You got me your shirt?”
Alex nods, smiling widely. “Sure did. Don’t worry, it’ll fit - I buy ‘em from the men’s section because they’re so much cozier that way.” Before he can respond, Alex turns to the woman, her smile not slipping an inch. “Hey, how are ya?”
The woman blinks a few times at her before venturing a small smile. “Erm, good. How are you?”
“As they say in the great state of Kansas, I’m fine as frog’s hair. Thanks so much for askin’!”
Jamie can’t help but chuckle and shake his head. Of course Alex isn’t getting weird or competitive with the random woman. Of course she just sees it as a chance to make a new friend.
Alex sticks out her hand toward the woman. “I’m Alex, it’s nice to meet ya.”
“Lacey,” the woman says, shaking Alex’s extended hand. Her eyes flick between Alex and Jamie.
“This here’s Jamie,” Alex says, as if Lacey didn’t already know. A fond smile makes its way across Jamie’s face as he watches Alex strike up an easy conversation about music. Before long, Lacey seems to forget about Jamie entirely, instead telling Alex an animated story about a show she’d gone to a few weekends prior.
They’re only interrupted when Bumbercatch arrives to let them know that the gang has finished their karaoke set and has decided to move on to another club. Lacey blinks a few times as if she’d forgotten Jamie was there entirely.
“Well, you’ve got my number, so text me that band name or else I’ll forget to check ‘em out! And I’ll figure out the name of that french pastry place and let you know,” Alex says, gripping Lacey’s arm in a friendly manner.
Lacey nods at her with a genuine smile. “Sounds good! It was so great to meet you, Alex.” She turns to Jamie with almost a confused look. “And you too, Jamie.”
Jamie nods and throws an affectionate arm around Alex’s shoulders. “You, too. Have a good night, yeah?” Without waiting for a response, he steers Alex toward the exit where their friends stand, waiting.
She turns toward him as they walk, leaning just a little closer beneath his arm. “You smell good.”
Jamie thinks she may be the death of him.
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
We’re at the second or third club by the time I start to really feel the cumulative effect of the drinks I’ve had so far, and I make a decision on impulse to turn off my phone. I don’t even know what time it is, but I’m having too good a time to deal with Ted’s inevitable barrage of texts asking me when I’m coming home as if I’m still a teenager.
I was never much of a going out person back home in Kansas, but here in the middle of my new friends finding reasons to celebrate in the face of a loss, I’m starting to see the appeal. Jamie’s company sure isn’t hurting, either.
As I’m watching him laugh at something Dani says, Emmanuel takes the almost empty drink from my hand and places it on the table. “Come, we are dancing now!” she says, and I follow her with a shrug and a grin made crooked by mischief and alcohol. I give Jamie a little wave of my fingers as Em tugs me past him, paying special attention to the way his forearms look with the flannel shirt I loaned him rolled up at the sleeves. He raises his eyebrows at me, but waves back.
On the dance floor, Emmanuel abandons me in favor of Richard fairly quickly, and having seen Richard dance I honestly can’t hold it against her. Besides, buoyed by a slightly drunk sense of confidence, I don’t mind dancing alone.
After a few moments, though, I’m joined by a man I’ve never met before. He grins at me from underneath his mop of curly hair, and something about his expression is infectious. Though there’s somebody I’d rather be dancing with this evening, the list of reasons why I shouldn’t is bigger than the Grand Canyon, so I decide to give Curly Hair a chance. As he dances wordlessly closer, I find myself running through said list to remind myself why I can’t just shove Curly Hair back toward his friends across the room and grab Jamie, instead.
Your brother is his coach. He’s famous and so pretty. He dates models and socialites and women like Keeley. He may flirt with you, but he flirts with everyone.
I glance over my shoulder at him, and before he flicks his gaze back to Dani and Jan, I swear he was watching me intensely with those grey eyes of his.
Your brother is his coach. Your brother is his coach. You know why that won’t work. Don’t put yourself through that again.
I shake my head and return my focus to Curly Hair, decidedly not thinking about anything but the music and the dancing and the freedom.
📷 📷 📷 📷 📷 📷
Jamie is finding it difficult not to storm across the crowded dance floor and sock the man dancing with Alex right in the face. The only thing holding him back is the tiny voice in his head telling him that he probably shouldn’t start making a habit of punching men out - one is more than enough for him.
Still, he’s really being forced to reckon with the size of feelings he’s been doing his best to suffocate, and it’s an uncomfortable mix between terrifying and electric.
As he watches her, Alex stumbles slightly, and the random guy catches her with a hand on her waist. Once she’s steady, the hand doesn’t move. Jamie is debating what to do - trying to decipher from a distance whether Alex looks like she’s enjoying herself or uncomfortable - when Emmanuel comes up beside him.
“I think you should take her home,” she says, nodding to Alex. “She seems too drunk to make wise decisions, yes?” Her words worry Jamie, but there’s a twinkle in the woman’s eye that gives his heart a little flutter of hope.
“Yeah,” he says, straightening. “I reckon you’re right.” Emmanuel simply smiles. Jamie casts his eyes around the vicinity and finds Colin nearby, nose buried in his phone. The man jumps when Jamie approaches. “Oi, I’m taking Alex home,” he says.
Colin raises his eyebrows. “Are you, now?”
“Not like that,” Jamie groans, rolling his eyes. “She’s drunk, and I’m just going to be a good person and get her home safe.”
Colin raises a hand in surrender. “Alright, alright! Whatever you say.”
With another eye roll, Jamie stalks off through the crowd to find Alex clumsily backing away from the man she’d been dancing with.
“Sorry, Curly Hair,” Jamie hears her slurring when he gets closer. “S’not your fault, you’re cute as a lil button, but… but… Jamie!” She starts when she sees him, standing straighter and pulling her dress down a little on her thighs. If he didn’t know better, Jamie would say she looks nervous.
“Sorry mate, I’ve been instructed to take the lady home,” he says to Curly Hair, who simply shrugs and moves in the direction of another group of women.
Alex snorts. “Don’t see any ladies here, just a messy American.” Her chin wobbles slightly.
“Ah, shit,” Jamie says. “Of course you’re an emotional drunk.”
“Hey, am not!” Alex demands, wiping her nose inelegantly, but Jamie ignores her.
“Let’s get some food in you, yeah?”
She lights up like a puppy and links her arm through his, leaning on him heavily for balance. “You’re a smart man, Jamie Tartt. Hey, that rhymes! Smart Tartt. I’m a freakin’ poet.”
The pair make their way out of the club, Alex waving a crooked goodbye to a smirking Emmanuel, and Jamie glances around. “You up for a little walk?” he asks, looking down at Alex. She nods, and he starts in the direction of a new favorite place of his - a late-night kebab joint he heard about in passing from Roy. Well, since Roy still doesn’t care much for him, he heard about it from Keeley who heard about it from Roy. As they walk through the crisp night air, Alex starts to straighten incrementally, leaning on Jamie less and less.
“It’s fuckin’ cold out here,” she says, pulling on the hem of her dress.
Jamie winces. “Shit, and I took your shirt.”
She waves a hand somewhere in the direction of Jamie, stumbling just a little as she looks around the still-bustling street. “Keep it, it looks better on you anyway.” Before Jamie can process her words or the rising flush on his cheeks, Alex is taking off in the direction of a little cart lit up with fairy lights, yanking him along behind her.
“What are you doing?” he asks, but she ignores him as she browses the selection of items clearly intended for tourists.
“Perfect!” she whispers, pulling out a pair of leggings with God save the Queen written across the butt. She wrinkles her nose when she sees it and Jamie can’t help but let out an affectionate chuckle. “Whatever,” Alex says, sifting through the merchandise again. “Nobody’s gonna see it under the dress.” Apparently, she is successful a second time, gleefully yanking out a Union Jack cardigan.
“I’ll take ‘em,” she says, pulling a bank card out of her boot and thrusting it crookedly toward the shopkeeper. While the man rings her up, she disentangles herself from Jamie and yanks the leggings on over her boots and under her dress, donning the cardigan over the whole ensemble.
She stands and smooths out the wrinkles in the material. “How do I look?” she asks Jamie, putting the bank card back in her shoe.
He stares at her - really stares - and takes in her messy hair, her lopsided smile, the borrowed dress and cheesy tourist gear… “You look beautiful,” he says without an ounce of humor in his voice.
Alex just laughs, linking arms with him again and pulling them back toward the sidewalk. “You might wanna get your eyes checked.”
He shakes his head, leading her down the remaining block toward the restaurant. He can feel her steps becoming more measured, less clumsy, as she sobers up.
Suddenly, she stops them before they enter the shop with a tug on their still-linked arms. “Jamie,” she says, sounding a little anxious. “I’m real sorry - I don’t usually get so dang sloppy. I can get myself home from here so I don’t fuck up the rest of your night out.”
Jamie’s eyebrows raise at this new, nervous side of Alex. “You think -” he cuts himself off with a shake of his head and a crooked smile. “You should be the opposite of sorry. You gave me an excuse to get the hell out of there and find something to eat - I’ve been starving for hours.”
The tips of Alex’s ears flush pink and she looks down at the ground for a moment before smiling back up at Jamie. “What’s the opposite of sorry?”
He huffs a surprised laugh. “Eh, I don’t know, really. Welcome? ‘Cause I thanked you? But then, you’re welcome is what you’d say to me, so that’s not right, is it?”
Alex giggles, her nose crinkling in delight, and she squeezes Jamie’s arm affectionately. “Let’s go get some food.”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
The first thing I hear when we enter the kebab place is a low, gruff, and very familiar fuuuuuuck.
Jamie freezes. “You’ve gotta be fucking joking.”
“What the fuck are you two doing here?” Roy asks, kebab hovering midair halfway to his mouth.
Before I can respond, though, Keeley bounces up from the table and nearly tackles me with a hug. “Hey, babes!” Her eyes narrow as she takes me in. “Erm… what are you wearing?”
I grin at her, disentangling from Jamie’s arm to hug her back. “I got cold and had to loan Clumsy here my flannel, so I improvised.” I point my thumb at Jamie.
She laughs and tugs me over toward her table. “ Of course you did. Come sit with us!” she says, earning a groan from Roy. I see her kick his shin under the table.
“Yes,” he grinds out from between clenched teeth. “Come and sit.”
I plop down next to Keeley while Jamie hovers nearby, looking awkward with his hands in his pockets. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go grab us some food.”
I grin and salute him with two fingers. “Thanks! Get me whatever - I trust your expertise.” He nods solemnly and shuffles off.
“Soooooo,” Keeley says, drawing the word out as she points between me and where Jamie stands at the counter. “What’s going on here?”
I press my lips together in a firm line. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Alex Lasso, you’re a shit liar.”
“What’s happenin’ here,” I sigh, “is that my good friend Jamie is makin’ sure I eat somethin’ because I was an embarrassing, drunken mess.”
Roy shakes his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Lasso. You’re fucking better than this.”
“Oh, like you’ve never been drunk,” I scoff.
“No, not that. ‘Hanging out’ with that fucking prick.” He uses his fingers to make air quotes around the words hanging out and jerks his head toward Jamie, who is now paying for the food while trying to juggle both our trays.
“I don’t understand why you’ve got so much beef with him. But anyway,” I whisper, leaning close so Jamie doesn’t hear me as he approaches. “Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on here, so you can take your air quotes and stick ‘em up your -”
“Hey, I just got you what I always get,” Jamie says, setting down a tray in front of me. “Hope that’s okay.”
I smile after giving Roy a pointed look. “Thanks, Jamie, I’m sure I’ll love it.”
Keeley still sports the wicked grin she’s been wearing since the moment we came in the door, and no amount of stink eye from me seems to be making a difference. “Are you two having a fun night?” she asks.
Jamie shrugs, completely oblivious to her deeper question. “Yeah, we did karaoke with the team for a bit. Second club got pretty crowded, though, so we decided to ditch ‘em and call it a night early.”
“Just the two of you, hm?” Keeley’s eyebrows are in the stratosphere.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Nobody else was ready to leave yet.”
“Mhm, of course,” she says, earning a confused look from Jamie. Before he can say anything, though, she’s moving on. “Hey, I’ve got a random question, Alex - are you seeing anyone?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Roy mutters, closing his eyes exasperatedly.
Jamie bites his lip and studiously avoids my eyes, his skin taking on a white undertone that I don’t know how to interpret. I full-out glare at Keeley. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to our current conversation, Keeley, but no,” I say, peeking at Jamie surreptitiously from the corner of my eye. He’s staring at his hands. “I’m not.”
Keeley shrugs casually. “Just making conversation, that’s all.”
The four of us finish our meals in a mostly uncomfortable silence. When Roy is done, shortly after Keeley, he claps his hands together abruptly and stands.
“Well, this has been fucking weird. See you.” He’s out the door before any of the rest of us can react, leaving Keeley to wince apologetically and follow after him with a little wave.
“Sorry about him! Have a good night, yeah?”
There’s a beat of near-awkward silence before Jamie and I finally make eye contact and burst into laughter. “He ain’t wrong, it has been fucking weird,” I say between giggles, wiping at the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, granddad has a point,” Jamie says, grinning. “Keeley was especially weird.” The laughter in me dies down a little at that, and I let out a big huff of air. Jamie keeps talking before I can formulate a response, though. “I guess it does look a little suspicious, though - me in your shirt and the two of us here while everyone else is still out.” There’s a tone to his voice that I can’t really identify. I don’t know if I want to.
I sigh and push back from the table. “Should we get outta here?”
Jamie looks a little surprised but, ever the good sport, shrugs. “Yeah, alright.”
Back in the cool night air, I hug the cardigan around myself a bit. Jamie clocks the motion and steps closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“For warmth,” he says, grinning crookedly down at me.
“What a gentleman.”
“So, where to now?” he asks, voice sounding almost boyish.
“We could start making our way back, I guess…” I look up at him through my eyelashes, the light of the street lamp casting a halo around his head. “But I don’t know if I’m ready to go home yet.”
Jamie grins down at me. “Neither am I.”
“Do you want to walk around a little?”
He nods, and we stroll off in what I think is the general direction of Richmond Square. After a long stretch of silence, I speak to fill the void. “Sorry again about earlier - I really don’t usually let loose like that.”
Jamie shakes his head. “I’m serious, Alex, you don’t need to apologize. It was cool to see you let go a little.” He grins. “I’m having a great night with you.”
“Oh,” I blink. “I, uh - me too. With you.”
We walk in a now-comfortable silence for a few blocks before Jamie speaks up. “People are going to think you’re a tourist.”
I look down at my new clothes with a chuckle. “If these don’t do it, the accent will definitely convince ‘em.”
“Nah,” Jamie says. “You’re as good as a local now if you ask me.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Definitely. You’ve seen the sights, eaten the food… Besides, none of us are going to let you go back to the States.”
“Oh really,” I tease. “Why would that be?”
Jamie shrugs. “You’re part of the team now - no getting rid of us.”
“I think I can live with that,” I say, earning another boyish grin from Jamie. His face looks so exposed, so kind, that it cracks something open in me. I slow to a stop, and Jamie looks down at me curiously. “Listen, I -”
His phone rings, interrupting me. “Shit, sorry,” he says, finding the device in his pocket. “It’s, eh, it’s Coach.”
I can feel the redness creeping over my face and know instantly that I’m no longer Alex. I have animorphed into a lobster. I don’t particularly mind - I haven’t been crushing it at being a human. Maybe this will be a better life.
Jamie answers the phone before I can tell him not to.
“Hey, Coach, how - yeah, she’s with me. Yes, Coach, she’s fine. I don’t kn- you know what, here,” he says, thrusting the phone in my direction.
I mouth sorry as I accept it. “Hey, Teddy,” I monotone.
“Why is your phone off?” His voice sounds frantic and pissed.
“I don’t know Theodore, I guess I just wanted a night without being bothered by an overly-worried older brother. You wouldn’t happen to know any of those, would ya?”
I can hear a little bit of the tension easing away as he listens to my clearly perfectly safe and healthy voice. “I can’t help but worry, Goober. It’s in the job description.”
I roll my eyes, but a smile creeps across my face. “Well, you can take the rest of the night off, alright? I’m fine.”
Ted sighs. “I did take the night off, Alex. I just got out of the shower - it’s almost time for our mornin’ meeting.”
I blanch. “Oh, fuck.”
“You can explain why you’re with Jamie later, but I figured I’d better remind you that you promised to bring pastries.”
I wipe a hand down my face before shooting Jamie an apologetic grimace. “Yeah, alright. See ya soon.”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
The uber drops me off in the parking lot just in time to see Beard walking up, carrying five coffees and wearing a ridiculous pair of sequined bell bottoms.
I step out of the car, bag of scones in hand, and the two of us freeze for a moment, staring.
Beard nods at my mismatched ensemble - borrowed little black dress with cheap tourist gear. “Long night?”
I squint at what looks to be a black eye. “Not near as long as yours.”
He chuckles darkly and holds the door open for me. “Never speak of this again?”
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I’ve quit almost every social media but this one and something about getting all my memes from tumblr now makes me feel like I’m going back to basics. Farm to table memes. Organically harvested.
Warnings: language, fluff, pining, sibling dynamics, anxiety
MINORS DNI.
A/N: Hello, lovelies! Thank you SO much to everyone who's sent me love and well wishes after I shared some health stuff prior to the last chapter. I appreciate you all more than I can say. And thank you for being patient with me on this one <3
Summary: Alex joins the team in Man City for the biggest game of the season.
Chapter Directory
Ted: Still waiting to go back and see her, but she’s going to be fine.
Ted: Also, universal healthcare is great! Who knew?
Alex: Good! Let me know if I can help at all.
Alex: Also, basically everyone.
I’m so preoccupied responding to Ted’s texts that I almost run into Keeley as I make my way toward ‘my’ office. “Shit, sorry Keels!” I say, sidestepping her just in time.
“No worries!” she says with a bright smile. “How are you, Alex?”
“Like Tony the Tiger after a bowl of frosted flakes.”
She thinks for a moment. “You’re grrrrrreat?”
I grin, tapping the side of my nose. “Right-o, Jon Snow. How are you? Things alright with Roy?”
Keeley lets out a contented sigh. “Never better. Thanks again for the sleepover.”
“Anytime!” I smile. “And really, I should be thankin’ you for giving me a break from Ted’s ridiculous mornin’ routine. Who listens to the same song every single day?”
“That depends,” Keeley says, tapping her chin in thought. “Is it a good song?”
“Not even a little bit.”
She nods knowingly. “Then he’s a psychopath.”
I snap my fingers. “I fuckin’ knew it.”
Keeley laughs, shaking her head as she starts back down the hallway toward her own office. “Have a good day, Alex!”
“You too, Keels,” I call brightly, finally stepping into the coaches’ offices. “Beardo and the Wonderkid!” I say, smiling. “Sounds like a band from the seventies.”
“I’m running training today, and I get to be a spokesperson,” Nate blurts, face red.
“Wow, big day for Nate the Great!” I pat his shoulder on my way to my desk. He races out the door with a little squeak. Beard and I share a look before he pushes the brim of his baseball hat over his eyes and leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. “Sleep tight, Beardo.” He flashes a thumbs up without opening his eyes.
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
I’m knee deep in a batch of photo edits when there’s a soft knock on the wall. My eyes are bleary from the prolonged screen time when I look up.
“You busy?” Jamie asks, leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Technically yes, but I need a break from this dang computer and will accept literally any excuse you give me.”
He grins. “Good. Come with me. And bring your camera.”
I narrow my eyes suspiciously, but grab my camera nonetheless and follow him into the locker room, where the guys are assembling around Sam and Isaac in an almost reverent manner, looking for all the world like they are on a dias and the rest of the team is either celebrating or worshipping them.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, I don’t know what kind of cult business y’all have goin’ on in here, but I ain’t drinkin’ any Kool-Aid.”
Jamie snorts a laugh as Isaac whirls, a serious look on his face. “Alex, welcome,” he says. Sam nods stoically.
“Maybe I should go,” I say, taking a small step back. “I promised myself a long time ago if I was on a podcast, it’d be for somethin’ fun like talkin’ about the inevitable decline of the patriarchy, not for true crime shit.”
Jamie holds up a placating hand. “Isaac is about to give Sam a haircut, and we need you to capture the moment.” He nods seriously at my camera.
I flick my eyes between the two men and Jamie. “Really not doin’ a great job of convincing me this ain’t a cult initiation, fellas.”
Bumbercatch puts a comforting hand on my shoulder as he ushers me to the front of the group. “Alex, Isaac's an artist with those clippers.”
Colin nods reverently. “But he only gives you one haircut per season, so you try and save that for a very special occasion.”
As the two men explain things to me, Jamie and O’Brien wrap a towel around Sam’s shoulders with the flair of a bullfighter whirling a cape, and Isaac is collecting clippers and other tools like an artist gathering paints.
“I'm not using mine until I marry,” Dani chimes in. “Or I get circumcised.”
I sigh deeply as the other players hum in understanding. “Listen, I appreciate how much y’all have welcomed me, and please feel free to give me a call whenever you’re eatin’ someplace fancy or goin’ to a club, but it really is okay for you to exclude me from some things.” I give Dani a flat look. “Or from some conversations.”
Before Dani can do anything besides smile sheepishly, Thierry shakes his head at Sam. “Bro, I can't believe you're wasting your Isaac cut on a blind date.”
I nearly drop my camera as I screech, “Samuel Middle Name Obisanya, are you tellin’ me you finally asked her out?”
He grins widely at me. “I did, and she said yes.”
I snap a quick picture of his smiling face, chuckling at his look of reproach. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. I’m so happy for you, in fact, that I’m willin’ to ignore my inner voice of reason and photograph what is obviously some kind of weird religious ritual.”
Jamie scratches the back of his neck, turning his attention to the man of the hour. “But Sam, what if you and this babe’s only got textual chemistry?” I stifle a laugh, hiding my blush at the grin Jamie flashes me when I appreciate his possibly unintended joke.
Sam surveys his friends. “Guys… I believe this could be something very special.”
A few players let out little awws at that, and I bite my lip, unexpectedly emotional at Sam’s vulnerability. “Well, what are ya waitin’ for, McAdoo. Get this man his magic haircut!”
Isaac nods at me, never once losing his solemn expression. “Yes ma’am.”
I scrunch my nose in disgust. “Nope, don’t like that.”
“Yes… sir?”
“Hell, why not.”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
After the haircut (which Colin quite accurately compared to Swan Lake), I regretfully have to get back to work, so I make my way to Higgins’ temporary office with some paperwork. I arrive at the office/closet right as Jamie is preparing to close the door.
“Alex! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Higgins asks. Jamie just hovers nearby sort of awkwardly.
“I’m just dropping off some forms before I get back to editing.” He nods and accepts the papers. “Thanks again for giving up your desk - if you ever want it back, just say the word. I can camp out in Keeley’s office or somethin’.”
Higgins waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. In fact, I’ve grown quite fond of this space,” he says, gesturing around the small room and knocking over a mop bucket in the process. It hits his head on the way to the floor, and he sighs dejectedly. “You can close the door now.”
“Hang in there, Higgy.” I gently shut the door and turn to Jamie, shaking my head. “That was just sad.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “You heading back to your office?”
“I really should, but I think this train needs to make a pit stop at Caffeination Station first.” Jamie blinks at me and I grin. “I need to grab a cup of coffee so I don’t fall asleep on my computer later.”
“Ohhh,” he says, nodding faintly.
I raise an eyebrow slightly, noting the expression on his face. “I’d love some company if you’ve got the time. Pictures are great and all, but they don’t talk back and I get real bored sometimes.”
Jamie brightens a bit, but he just shrugs casually. “Yeah, alright.”
The two of us make our way to the little café area, which is really just a fancy break room with some keurigs and an espresso machine. Jamie walks in silence for a few paces, so I face him, chewing on my bottom lip.
“You okay, Jamie?”
He shrugs again. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“You sure?” I ask, following him into the room. “‘Cause you look like you’re on your way to an audition for the Blue Man Group.” I wave a hand at his confused expression. “You look real sad, Jamie.”
“Oh,” he says, blinking in surprise. “Eh, I don’t know. I was asking Higgins for tickets to the Man City game for me dad and his two mates, and now I guess I can’t stop thinking about him - what a dick he is. Me dad, that is - not Higgins.”
I hand Jamie a mug and, taking my own, sit down at one of the tables, gesturing for him to follow. He does, settling in with an uncomfortable expression on his face. At this time in the afternoon, the room is completely empty, so there’s nobody to eavesdrop on our conversation.
“Dad stuff is so hard, Jamie,” I say, taking a long drink of my coffee.
He nods. “Yeah. Are you close with your dad?”
I sigh, shooting him a small smile that likely comes out more grimace than anything. “He, uh, he died before I was born. So, y’know, that puts a bit of a damper on our relationship.”
I try to huff a laugh to ease the moment, but he still looks horrified. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine, honestly,” I say, waving him off. “Can’t miss what you never knew, right? What’s the deal with your dad?” I silently pray to whoever might be listening that he rolls with the change in subject.
Jamie leans back in his seat and wraps his fisted hands in the bottom of his shirt, looking somewhere between nervous and contemplative. “Not much of a deal, really. He’s just a dick. Every situation, he does exactly what a dick would do.”
“Yeah, I know some fellas like that. This guy I went to high school with - name was Tyler Frost - no matter what he was doin’, he always somehow found a way to make my life hell in the process. He was like a demonic energizer bunny - asshole never gave up.”
Jamie chuckles, which is exactly what I hoped would happen when I started rambling. “So what’d you do?” he asks, looking at least a tiny bit lighter than a moment ago.
I press my lips together, embarrassed. “We don’t need to go into all that. The important thing is that -”
He cuts me off with a suspicious grin. “Alex, what did you do to this wanker?”
“Oh, hell,” I sigh. “I punched him at senior prom. Do y’all have prom over here? Never mind, it doesn’t matter to the story. We were at this school dance, and he was bein’ a dick, and I punched him. He never looked twice at me again after that. Folks started callin’ me One Punch Lasso.”
Jamie lets out an impressed whistle, eyes flicking up and down over my body. “Wow, who knew you had that in you?”
I run a nervous hand through my hair and suppress a blush at his attention. “Well, you know. Me and Walt Whitman - we contain multitudes. Anyway, you probably shouldn’t punch your dad. But I guess if ya have to, make it a good one.”
He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “You really are something else, Alex Lasso.”
I tip my mug toward him. “I could say the same for you, Jamie Tartt.”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
“Hang on a sec, Sam,” I say, holding the phone against my ear with my shoulder. I finish washing the last dish, dry my hands, and grab the phone, rolling my head to stretch out the kink in my neck. “Alright, sorry ‘bout that. What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to bother you Alex, but I didn’t know who else to call.” Sam’s voice is a tad frantic, far from the gentle calm I’ve grown used to.
“Sam, you could never bother me. I’m glad you called. Now what’s goin’ on?” Ted is at the Crown and Anchor with Beard, so I settle into the couch.
“I don’t know, I just feel nervous about this date. What if I get there and she’s disappointed when she sees me? Or what if I wait for hours and she never shows up?”
“Okay, I like this game,” I say, wiggling in my seat a little. “What if she’s like a Russian spy and she tries to get you to turn on us all. Ooh - or what if you actually know her from your real life and it’s super awkward!”
“Alex!” Sam groans.
“Sorry, not helpful. Sam, listen to me.” I pull my phone back to check the time. “I know you’re always five minutes early, so you’re probably sittin’ in your car outside the restaurant.”
“I am,” he sighs.
“Alright. First you’re gonna take a deep breath with me,” I say, pausing to take an exaggeratedly loud deep breath. He follows along on the other end of the call. “Good. Now you’re gonna take a hard look at yourself in the rearview mirror.” I pause again. “You doin’ it?”
“I am,” he says again.
“Okay, great. Look at yourself - your magic cult haircut and your sweet lil face, and say ‘I am Sam Fucking Obisanya.’”
He chuckles, the sound slightly nervous. “Alex, I can’t say that.”
“I’m sorry, I thought your name was Obisanya, not Obinsanno.”
His laugh comes loud and unrestrained now, and I can practically feel tension melting away through the phone. “Fine,” he sighs. “I am Sam… fucking Obisanya.” He mutters the curse, but I can still hear it clearly.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” I cheer. “Hell yeah you are! Whoever this Bantr woman is, she’s gonna love you, because you’re Sam fuckin’ Obisanya.”
Sam is quiet for a moment, and when he finally speaks his voice sounds light years calmer than when I first answered the phone. “Thank you, Alex.”
“Ain’t no thing, Chandler Bing. Now get in there and wow her with your naturally dazzlin’ personality.”
“Okay, I will.”
“And text me the second you’re home!” I blurt out at the last second.
“Bye, Alex.”
I look down at the now ended phone call with a frown. “If he doesn’t text me, I’m never helpin’ him again,” I tell the empty room. “Aw hell, who am I kiddin’?” I stand and stretch, moving down the hallway to get ready for my own hot date with a random beer from the fridge and a good book.
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
Thanks to a nearly-forgotten lens (classic Alex Lasso, right there), I’m the last one onto the bus for Wembley. The coaching staff is grouped together at the front, Beardo and Roy making a stoically silent pair while Nate and my brother chat about random stuff.
I wordlessly accept Beard’s good luck fist bump as I pass him and scan the assembled footballers for a free seat. Toward the back of the bus, there’s the sound of a scuffle and, before I can identify precisely what is happening, Dani is scrambling up from the floor and quickly sliding into a seat next to Jan.
“Oi, Alex!” Jamie calls. “There’s an open seat here.”
I quirk an eyebrow as I make my way down the aisle. “What a coinkydink,” I say, settling next to him and sliding my camera gear under the seat in front of me.
He gives me an obviously fake frown. “I guess nobody wanted to sit next to me,” he shrugs.
“Sure,” I nod, noticing the inaudible grumbling coming from Dani’s direction. “Poor little Jamie Tartt, all by himself with not a friend in sight.” I make a show of scanning the nearby footballers who are barely containing their laughter.
Jamie nods seriously. “Thank you for saving me from the loneliness.”
I shove his shoulder playfully, and his solemn face quickly gives way to a smirk. “Don’t go grinnin’ yet, you’re about to learn why Ted didn’t save me a seat next to him.”
“Why’s that?” he asks, cocking his head to the side like a puppy.
“‘Cause she’s a pain in the rear on road trips!” Ted calls from the front, where he’s obviously been eavesdropping.
I roll my eyes. “I think you meant to say absolute delight, Teddy.”
“I can handle it,” Jamie chuckles softly, speaking low enough now that it’s just for me.
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
“Fucking hell, I cannot handle this. If you tell me you’re bored one more time, I’m throwing you out the fucking window,” Jamie says, his amused smile betraying his true feelings. At least, that’s my hope.
“If you were more entertainin’, we wouldn’t be havin’ this problem,” I say with a shrug.
“It ain’t me fault you didn’t want to play the license plate game!”
“Well, it ain’t my fault y’all’s license plates are so dang confusing!”
Sam’s snickering from a row ahead of us catches my attention, so I reach up and lightly smack the back of his head. “Hey, Giggles, how’d the big date go? You never texted me back!”
“You two text each other?” Jamie asks, flicking his eyes between Sam and me.
“Course we do,” I say. “I don’t see anyone else around here helpin’ him figure out what to wear to impress a lady.”
“You don’t text me,” Jamie mutters under his breath.
I just roll my eyes, poking Sam again. “Excuse me, Virtual Loverboy, I asked ya a question.”
Sam sighs deeply. “It was wonderful, but I don’t know if it will ever happen again.”
I furrow my brows. “Why the hell not?”
“Don’t bother, bruv,” Isaac interrupts. “He won’t tell us either.”
I narrow my eyes at Sam. “This ain’t over.” He just shrugs and turns back to his conversation with Bumbercatch, and I return my attention to Jamie who is poking me with his phone. “What’s this?” I ask, taking it from him.
“A phone, duh.” He rolls his eyes in mock exasperation.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Why are you givin’ it to me?”
“Put your number in it. You know, just in case I need to ask you what to wear to impress a lady.”
I shove down the surprising wave of jealousy that rolls through my stomach and accept it, typing in my contact information. “Y’all are hopeless,” I try to joke, shoving his phone back at him with a bit more force than necessary.
“Yeah,” Jamie mumbles. “I know.”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
It doesn’t take long for me to realize that this game is going to be an absolute disaster.
My first clue is the wave of sky blue I see the moment I step onto the field. I’m earlier than everyone else - as usual - to get my equipment set up, and I’m almost blown over by the sheer volume of Man City fans surrounding me from all sides. I’ve been to enough football games by now that I’ve clocked the culture, but even that hasn’t prepared me for the… enthusiasm of this particular crowd.
My second clue is the trio of attendees in the Richmond section wearing Man City gear. The three men are being unnecessarily antagonistic to the folks around them, which is what first draws my attention, and the second I zoom in on their light blue jerseys with my camera I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that this is Jamie’s asshole father and his friends. On principle, I do not take a single photo of them as I capture the fans.
My third and final clue is, well, the whole dang game. By the time I’ve gotten the last shots of the emptying stadium and gathered my equipment, even I feel exhausted by the overwhelming loss.
Trying to force my face into a mask of anything other than the dejected expression I’m currently wearing, I make my way to the visitor’s locker room to either be cheered up by Ted’s team pep talk or give one of my own to whoever might need it. On the way down the long and winding hallway, though, I almost run into the man I’d spotted in the stands.
“Oh, excuse me,” I say, sidestepping the bearded man at the last moment.
He eyes my Richmond jersey, stare lingering for an uncomfortable amount of time, before finally meeting my gaze. “Do you work for Richmond?”
I shift uncomfortably. “Uh, yeah. Sort of.”
“Can you bring me to the locker room?”
I readjust the camera bag on my shoulder. “I don’t think fans are allowed back there,” I say, playing dumb.
The man gives me a smile, but there’s nothing kind to be found in it. “Well good thing I’m not a fan, then. I’m Jamie Tartt’s father,” he says with the easy confidence of someone who throws it around all the time.
I glance toward the doors. “Yeah, alright,” I sigh. “Give me a second to check with him.”
Jamie’s dad - James, I suppose - rolls his eyes, and I can feel his gaze trained on me as I enter the locker room. “Hey there, fellas,” I say gently.
A few of them meet my eyes with sad attempts at smiles, but most of them are lost in their own worlds. “Uh, Jamie?” I venture softly. He looks up with hopeful eyes. “There’s a guy out there who says he’s your dad. He wants to come see ya, but I told him I had to check with you first.”
His expression falls, becoming more of a grimace. “Yeah, okay.”
I crack the door back open for James to enter. “Are you decent?” he laughs, coming into the locker room. He flicks his cold eyes to me one last time. “I told you, dumb bird,” he mumbles.
I cross my arms protectively and walk over to stand by Ted, who shifts between me and James on instinct.
“Oh, gentlemen! Gentlemen!” James grins with a dark laugh. “Hey, it's a tough one, lads. It's a tough one, but no shame to it, 'cause, you know, we only ever beat, uh, everybody we play.” He fakes punches and generally just ambles about like a cocky asshole as he makes his way into the locker room. “And there he is, my son. My own flesh and blood. Poor Jamie, my son.”
I watch uncomfortably alongside the rest of the team and coaching staff, none of us really knowing how to (or if we even should) stop this trainwreck.
“Now, maybe I'm thinking his heart's still in Manchester and that's why he missed that sitter in the first half,” James taunts. He moves up to Jamie now, giving him a few fake punches and taps. “You absolutely balled it. You balled it. What were you thinking?” He pauses, taking in Jamie’s stoic face. “I'm only kidding!” Jamie’s expression doesn’t waver as he refuses to meet his father’s eyes. “Hey, look, do us a favor and get Denbo and Bug past security. They wanna go on the pitch, take a few snaps and all that, yeah?” the older man continues.
“I'd rather 'em not.” My heart swells with pride, and though Jamie’s gaze remains firmly planted on the wall beyond his father’s shoulder, I still give him a little smile in the hopes he sees it.
“Yeah, they just want to look around. It'll only take a second,” James says, faking another punch to his son’s jaw.
This time, Jamie meets his father’s eyes. “I'd rather 'em not.”
“What? You're not gonna be a little moody bitch just 'cause you got your arse served to you on a plate, are ya?”
“Don't speak to me like that.” James looks at his son with shock, but Jamie holds firm even as his father acts like he can’t hear what’s being said. Jamie repeats himself every time, not wavering from the cold calm mask he wears.
Finally, James seems to lose his cool, his face mere inches from Jamie’s. “Okay, well, let's see if you can hear this, hmm? You know that ickle TV show you made? That just made it easier for Manchester City to kick you to the curb. And look where you are now,” he all but whispers. “Twaddling about with a bunch of amateurs.” The older man’s voice raises now, and he turns to face the rest of the locker room. “No offense, no offense.” Some of the players refuse to meet his eyes, some wear dejected expressions, but I give him the coldest glare I can muster from behind my brother.
Jamie turns back toward the bench, clearly done with this entire exchange, which apparently only stokes his father’s rage. “Don't turn your back on me, you pussy.” He shoves Jamie roughly.
I can’t help but gasp at the action, pitching forward on instinct, but Ted holds me back just as Jamie presses his lips together tightly and socks his father right in the face, knocking the man to the ground. My jaw drops.
“Okay. Yeah, you can have that one for free,” James says, balling up his own fist as he climbs to his feet.
As if the punch broke some kind of spell, Beard moves forward now and grabs James’ coat. “Time to go!”
James calls nearly unintelligible insults back to his son as Beard hauls him off. “Don’t you forget where you came from!”
Before Jamie can respond, if he was even going to in the first place, Beard reaches the exit. “Watch the door,” Beard says, shoving him roughly through the swinging doors. I can hear the thunk of James’ head hitting the metal. “Oops,” Beard says casually, following the man out, probably to ensure he’s removed from Wembley entirely.
There’s a brief moment of stillness as everyone simply freezes, uncertain, before Roy moves quickly across the locker room and wraps Jamie in a hug. Jamie dissolves into tears, hugging Roy back firmly, and I’m startled out of my own reverie by Ted all but running out of the locker room.
I know exactly what he’s doing, why he’s leaving, but for some reason all I can hear is a roaring in my ears and the question Sharon asked me the single time I’d ventured into her office to talk about Ted - do you always feel responsible for your brother’s well-being?
Do you always feel responsible for your brother’s well-being?
I’m seeing the locker room in almost bullet-time now, everyone moving in slow motion, and I watch Roy’s microexpressions move from comforting to uncomfortable as the hug extends and Jamie tries to control his tears. Roy’s eyes flick to me and catch my gaze, pleading with me, and I look nervously between him and the door my brother just fled through.
Beard, who must have re-entered the locker room at some point without my realizing, gently squeezes my elbow. “I’ve got him,” he whispers, exiting the room.
The rest of the team is standing nervously as Roy and Jamie embrace, seemingly unsure if they can proceed with their post-game routines, so I force a casual expression over my features and amble over to the two men. Roy steps back immediately, looking relieved, but I only have eyes for Jamie.
“Wanna take a walk with me?” I ask softly, just for him.
His expression is panicked for a moment, but he quickly wipes at his eyes with his fist and nods, following me silently out the opposite door and down a random hallway. When we’re what I feel to be an appropriate distance from the locker room, I plop down on the hard floor and pat the space next to me. Still silent, Jamie sits, shoulder almost touching my own.
“Do you wanna talk about it, or do you need to be distracted?” I ask him, turning my head to meet his eyes. He shrugs. “I’m gonna have to start callin’ you One Punch Tartt now,” I joke, aiming for a lighter tone.
Jamie chuckles, but there’s no real humor in it. “I don’t think I did a great job of learning the mortal of your story the other day.”
My eyes crinkle automatically at his malapropism, but I decide to leave it for another time. “Come on now, it ain’t like I’m Shakespeare or somethin’. Sometimes I just talk ‘cause I get nervous, simple as that.”
He narrows his eyes, staring at his hands. “You told me specifically not to hit me dad, and I did just that.”
“Yeah, after tellin’ you about the time I hit someone who pissed me off. I’m pretty sure I also told you that if you did hit him, to make it a good one. I don’t hold any high ground here, believe you me.”
Jamie is silent for a beat before finally meeting my gaze. “D’you think I made a mistake?”
I loose a long breath of air before responding. “I don’t know if it much matters, to tell ya the truth. You did what you did, and it’s done. Now you just gotta figure out how to move forward.” He looks back down at his lap, so I give him a crooked smile. “For what it’s worth, though, I’d probably have shoved somethin’ where the sun don’t shine, so from where I’m standin’ you did great.”
This time I get a real laugh out of him, and a bit of the tension in his shoulders eases away. Almost immediately, though, a new grimace takes over his face. “I’m so sorry he was such a dick to you.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, Tim Curry. It’s far from the worst thing a man’s said to me.”
Jamie grabs my hand, stilling it midair, and holds it gently. My heart stutters. “Really, Alex, I should’ve said something. I shouldn’t have frozen like I did.”
I squeeze the hand holding my own, ignoring the flush creeping up over my cheeks. “Listen, Jamie, you did your best with a hard situation, and it was enough. Actually, it was more than enough - it was fuckin’ awesome. You stood up to your dad! You held your ground - that’s incredible. And as for some dumb comment that I don’t even really understand because y’all have to make everything so dang complicated over here, I’m literally never gonna think about it again and you shouldn’t either.”
He sighs, staring intently at our still-joined hands. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Jamie shakes his head a few times, almost as if he’s erasing the memory of what just happened, before suddenly standing and pulling me up next to him with a gentle tug on the hand he’s still holding tightly. “Do you have plans right now?”
⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽ ⚽
Jamie and I burst back into the locker room with newfound excitement, startling the players in varying stages of redress. Neither Ted or Beard have returned, Nate is in the corner scrolling on his phone, and Roy is chatting with Keeley and Rebecca.
“I just heard the most interestin’ story from Jamie here,” I say.
Colin and Isaac exchange nervous glances, but Sam returns my smile. “What’s that?”
“Well, apparently,” I begin. “Y’all had a team outing to a karaoke bar last season. And I was just thinkin’, since that was before Jamie here stopped bein’ a twat and - as unbelievable as it is that this period in y’all’s lives even existed - before you knew me, we should probably have a redo on that particular little adventure.”
A chorus of ooohhhhhhs breaks out around me, and soon Isaac waves his hands to get everyone’s attention. “As team captain, I agree with Alex - let’s all be goldfish and go get drunk.”
I clear my throat. “I don’t actually think I said get drunk, but whatever floats your boat, I guess.”
Sam flicks his eyes to the corner where Roy is standing before turning his attention back to me. “I don’t think I’m up for that tonight, sorry everyone.”
I nod before leaning in conspiratorially. “Maybe you oughta call your Bantr woman, see if you can make somethin’ happen again.” He looks skeptical, so I continue. “The way I see it, you used up all your bad luck on the game, so really only good things can happen from here on out.”
He chuckles and grabs his things. “You always make things seem better, Alex.”
After Sam walks out of earshot, Jamie leans closer - close enough to send a few shivers up my spine when he whispers, “He’s right. You do make things better.”
I turn and meet his gaze, faces inches apart, but I’m prevented from responding by Ted coming back into the locker room.
“Coach Beard decided he needs to cool off a bit, so he’s gonna head back on his own. Is everyone else ready to get this show on the road?” he says, giving me a weird look when he sees my proximity to Jamie.
Isaac slings a friendly arm around my shoulders, earning a glare that I almost miss from Jamie. “Actually, Coach, I think we’re going to head out from here.” He jostles me a little in a bro-ey manner. “Alex reminded us that we’re goldfish!”
Ted’s eyes narrow for a split second, but he sighs and rubs a hand over his face before shrugging. “Well, who can argue with that? Y’all just be safe, alright?” he says like he’s speaking to the entire team, but his eyes are firmly planted on me and only me. I nod at him and he relaxes maybe a centimeter before grabbing his things and making his way over to Roy, Keeley, and Rebecca.
Keeley peels off from the group and motions me over to her. When I’m close enough for her to whisper, she leans close. “Follow me to the bathroom, yeah?”
I raise my eyebrows at her. “Listen, Keeley, in another life I think we’d be hot as hell, but we can’t do that to Roy!” I joke.
She shoves my shoulder, giggling. “We so would be, but that’s beside the point.” Keeley gestures to my outfit - loose jeans, a Richmond jersey, black Docs and a red flannel, then to her own - a snug minidress dress, wild heels, and a fluffy hot pink coat. “You’re meeting me so we can trade clothes.”
My eyebrows raise even higher. “Oh no, Keels, you don’t have to -”
She cuts me off by grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the room. After some maneuvering, some cursing, and an absolute refusal to discuss Jamie on my part, we re-enter about five minutes later. She’s now wearing my jeans and jersey under her fluffy coat, her own heels on her feet, and I’m wearing her slinky little black dress under my flannel with my Docs. The dress shows more of my curves than my usual attire, exposing most of my legs and a fair bit of cleavage, but Keeley swore it wasn’t too much. She’s yanked my hair out of its messy bun and somehow managed to make the messy waves look artful, and she helped me apply a little bit of makeup from the supply she keeps in her purse.
The second we enter the locker room, Ted makes a strangled sort of noise and covers his face with his hands. Roy claps him on the back comfortingly and leads him out of the room in the direction of the bus. Rebecca stifles a laugh and follows, Keeley blowing me a kiss and trailing after them. I give her a grateful wave as she goes.
“Holy shit, bruv, you look like a girl,” Isaac says, eyes widening as he takes in my altered appearance.
I roll my eyes, and Jamie smacks him in the shoulder. “That’s reductive, mate. Women ain’t just one thing, yeah?”
I raise my eyebrows at Jamie, impressed, and feel a heat building in my abdomen at the look he gives me in return.
The footballers who have decided to join our little outing gather around Isaac, Jamie, and me in a circle, and Thierry grins widely. “Let’s get LIT!” he shouts, earning a side eye from me. “Responsibly!” he says even louder, and though I roll my eyes, I can’t help but laugh.
My eyes are on Jamie when I say, under my breath, “Not too responsibly, I hope.”
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