Ted Lasso, but mostly Jamie because honestly.

---

It was supposed to be Samuel, of course. But: as father and son pulled apart from their long hug and Samuel said you should have told me you would be a day early, I would have picked you up from the airport and Ola replied I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you the restaurant door was pushed open and Jamie Tartt, dressed to the nines in the colours of the rainbow, sauntered inside.

“Hey, Dayo, did I leave—“ He caught sight of father and son and paused, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you still doing here?” he asked Samuel. “Thought you were supposed to pick Simi up around now.”

“Oh.” Samuel cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um. Yes. I will give her a call.”

Raising his eyebrows, Ola tutted disapprovingly. “Samuel, are you supposed to be on a date right now?”

“Yes, well, soon, but… You are here now. Simi will understand.”

Jamie looked doubtful. “Not sure she will, mate.”

“No, no, I’m sure she—“

“Samuel, go. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself for the 350 days a year when I don’t see you, I am sure I will be fine for an afternoon.”

His son still looked hesitant, the dear, dutiful boy. Before Ola could encourage him further, Jamie jumped in, “Your dad’s right, lad. Better go make sure your girl don’t run off with some other gorgeous restaurant-owning football. Bound to be loads of ‘em.”

Ola very much doubted that, but the comment had the desired effect, and after profuse promises of lots and lots of time spent tomorrow, Samuel rushed off, leaving Jamie and Ola alone in the dining room.

“Sorry about that,” Jamie said, absentmindedly running his hand through the carefully styled hair. “Took ages for them to get together, right, and Simi’s not really the romantic type, so Sam was dead excited when she agreed to a Valentine’s date. Be a shame if he missed it. But, I’m sorry you don’t get to spend the day with him. I know that he… ” He trailed off, bit his lip. “He was really looking forward to seeing you, yeah? Been talking our ears off all week.

There's something wistful in the young man’s voice, and something sad.

Ola knew enough of him to know why.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said lightly. “Perhaps you would care to join me for some lunch instead? If you are not too busy, of course.”

Jamie pointed to himself, eyebrows raised in question, as if there was anyone else around that Ola could have possibly meant. “Me? Uh, yeah. Sure.” If the vocal response was somewhat muted, the smile on his face was anything but. “Did you wanna eat here, or… ?”

Ola put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, gently steering him towards the door. “As much as I love Nigerian cuisine, and especially Nigerian cuisine as good as my son’s, I find it refreshing to try new things when I’m abroad. Please, take me to your favourite spot.”

---

So yes, it was supposed to be Samuel, but Ola can’t find it in him to regret ending up on an uncomfortable brown bench opposite Jamie Tartt. The boy is easy to talk to, funny and opinionated and thoughtlessly charming. Strangely shy but pleased when asked about himself, and seemingly as keen to hear what Ola has to say as he is to hear his own voice.

It is, just as it had been the first time they met, very hard to recognize in this Jamie the selfish and cruel young man Ola had once sensed the shape of in Samuel’s evasive comments during his first few months in England. Hard to reconcile this Jamie’s easy grin with the arrogant sneer of so many post-match interviews in that first, difficult year.

Now Jamie’s smile is wide when he details Samuel’s exploits on and off the pitch. Samuel finally getting together with Simi had been the big news of that week, he assures Ola, everyone’d been waiting for it, you know?

“It was about time!” Ola agrees, signalling for the waiter to indicate that a desert menu might not be unwelcome. “But what about you, Jamie? Is there no one special in your life?”

Jamie doesn’t answer immediately. His fingers find the serviette, pick at it. ”Uh, yeah. I mean, no.” A shrug. “Maybe. I guess it’s complicated."

“Oh? And how did you meet this complicated person? Is she one of Jamie Tartt’s many adoring fans?”

The smile is quick, bashful. “Nah. Met through work, didn’t we. But h-, uh, she isn’t complicated. I mean, I guess they are. But mostly it’s just… Yeah. Bit complicated because of the club and that.”

“Ah, I see,” Ola says, not entirely truthfully. “So you have no big plans for Valentine’s Day?”

Jamie shakes his head. “I don’t know that they’re into romantic stuff anyway.”  He pauses, considering. “Or, maybe they are, but… not with me, I figure.”

“Not with you? But you are dating?”

“Eh. Dunno. It’s like… We,”—he glances at Ola—“do things, yeah? Like, you know. Adult things. And we hang out. A lot. But it’s not really… “ He makes a face. “Not like we can go on dates anyway.”

Ola puts the dessert menu down, frowning, as alarm bells go off in his head. Someone Jamie has met through work; someone Jamie cannot be seen with because it would be complicated for the club… Add the facts together, check the sum, and it sounds suspiciously like what Samuel had told him about his romance with Rebecca Welton.

Samuel’s boss.

Jamie’s boss.

Ola has – reluctantly – accepted that Richmond’s owner had not meant to take advantage of Samuel (Dad, I promise, she’s even more concerned about it than you are!). Her ending the affair has mollified him somewhat. But if she is once more taking one of the club’s players to bed...

“Would you want to?” he asks carefully, not sure how to broach the subject without pushing too hard. For all his filial piety, Samuel had not responded well to Ola’s suggestion that the match was a bad one; you had to let these young men discover such things for themselves. Still, a gentle nudge in the right direction could not hurt.

Jamie takes a sip of water. “Would I want what?”

“Go on dates with this person.”

“Oh.” Jamie shrugs again. “Not up to me, is it.”

 “No? Surely you should get a say in whether you go on dates or not?”

“Eh. Not really? I mean, they pretty much decide on everything we do.”

“They decide everything?” The alarm bells blare louder still. “That does not sound very fair to you.”

Jamie gives him a blank look. “No, I love it.”

Ah. Well, Ola won’t be touching that. “I see. But even if that is the case, if there is something you are missing in the relationship, you should be able to say so.”

Jamie looks doubtful, but gives a nod all the same. “I guess. Hadn’t really thought about anything missing, to be honest. I like what we have, yeah? But maybe it’d be nice if we were… you know… more.” He looks at Ola a little uncertainly, as if he is wondering if he has gotten that right—and Ola nods encouragingly.

“Absolutely.”

Hiding one’s love away never works in the long run. And Jamie certainly deserves someone who is not afraid to show him off.

Besides, if Jamie makes it clear that he isn’t content being just a pretty boy toy, Rebecca might realise her mistake and break the affair off, just as she had done with Sam.

That really would be best for everyone.

“Yeah,” Jamie says slowly, nodding again, more decisively now. “Yeah, all right. I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Ola says, favouring him with a warm smile. “And now, for pudding… “

They share a chocolate & hazelnut budino, and speak of other things. The restaurant empties as midday becomes mid-afternoon, and then Jamie has to leave for a barber’s appointment. (Jamie offers to cancel, and Ola tells him that is very kind, but also silly. Jamie offers to pay for the meal, and Ola tells him that is very kind, but sillier still.)

“Thank for this, Mr. Obisanya,” Jamie says as they stand on the pavement, hovering on the edge of goodbye. “I mean, Ola. It were nice.”

“It was my pleasure,” Ola assures him. He deliberates for a moment, hesitates—then he takes a step forward and pulls the young man into a firm embrace, just as he would have done Samuel. His gut tells him that this gesture will be welcome (needed), and is, as so often, proved correct when Jamie returns the hug.

“Take care of yourself, Jamie. And remember, I am here if you ever need to talk. Samuel tells me you are family.”

Jamie smiles at that. Ola smiles back.

---

The text comes through the next day, as Ola is preparing dinner while waiting for Samuel to return from training. It doesn’t say much, just Thanks for yesterday. Thought about what you said, and I have a plan underneath a bouquet of black roses.

Ola chuckles approvingly. Black flowers is a curious choice for a romantic gesture, but of course people can find romance in all sorts of things. Ayomide, for instance, is fond of Ola bringing her folded paper flowers—though he suspects that that has more to do with her knowing how difficult he finds the folding. She always did like him making an effort.  

Good for you! he sends Jamie. Begins to sing, as he sets to soaking the rice.

---

Ola waits until after dinner, when Samuel is leaning against him as they watch Ijogbon, before he asks, “Samuel, do you believe that it is possible that Jamie and your Rebecca are having an intimate relationship?”

“What?” Samuel pulls back to give him an incredulous stare. “No! No. I mean Jamie is lovely of course, but I really don’t think… Why? Dad, what did Jamie say to you?”

“He did not say very much, just that he had met someone through work and that it was complicated. Somehow, I got the feeling that this person was his superior.”

Samuel’s face goes very still for a moment, then he sighs, a soft oh, before lapsing into a long silence.

Ola waits patiently; eventually Samuel looks up, and offers, “Rebecca has been seeing a Dutch pilot since last summer and I think they are very happy together. But I think I might know who Jamie is involved with, and if it is who I think it is… then, yes, it would be complicated.” He pauses. “But good, too, I think. For both of them.”

This is a relief. Though it rather begs the question… “And you cannot tell me who this person is?”

“I’m sorry, no. I don’t think it is my place to tell.”

Ola gives a laugh, reaching out to tousle his son’s hair. “Ah! It is a shame I’ve raised you so well!”

Samuel laughs too. “Did Jamie say anything about else about this relationship?” he asks.

“Not really, but he sent me a picture of a huge bouquet of flowers, so I suspect he is planning a romantic gesture.”

“I… see,” Samuel says after a brief pause. “I hope he films it. I think it would be very interesting to watch.”

---

At the knock on his door Roy curses loudly. Whatever it is, he is not in the fucking mood. All he wants is to have his tea, read his book and then escape into the sweet oblivion of sleep.

It’s been a weird fucking day.

More specifically, Jamie has been weird. Now, Roy had expected some awkwardness at work back when they first started sleeping together, but to his surprise Jamie had seemed to have no issue separating their private sessions from their professional ones.

But then today, three months after their first hook-up, Jamie had suddenly started acting strange. Pretending he didn’t even notice Roy most of the time; throwing himself into intense conversations with whomever was nearest when Roy showed up. And yet, whenever he thought Roy wasn’t looking, he stared, eyes narrowed in a stupid-looking approximation of careful consideration.

It would have been funny, if it hadn’t been so annoying—and hadn’t made Roy so nervous.

To boot, the weather had been godamn awful, icy sleet coming down on them as the team ran their drills on the wet, slippery pitch. Once he blew the whistle on the whole miserable thing, Roy was too cold and too tired to confront Jamie over his behaviour. He went straight home instead, vowing to be in bed by nine.

And now it is just gone past six and he hasn’t even started dinner yet and whoever is at the door must have the code to the gate, and so must be someone Roy knows and trusts not to come bother him unless it is important.

Putting on his very best scowl, Roy yanks the door open. His frown deepens as his gaze fall on—of fucking course—Jamie and the frankly alarmingly large bouquet of flowers in his arms.

“The fuck is that?” Roy demands.

“They’re flowers,” Jamie says, sounding for all the world like he genuinely thinks Roy doesn’t realise that. “Jesus, Roy, didn’t think your eyesight—“ He cuts himself off, apparently deciding to save the insults for now. “They’re for you,” he adds, a little churlishly. 

Roy has gathered as much, and eyes them warily. Black roses. Bit obvious, but nice—though Roy isn’t going to tell Jamie that just yet. He wants answers first.

“Why?”

Jamie presses his lips together. Shrugs in that casual way that isn’t fooling anyone anymore. “It’s what people do, innit. When they’re, you know, together.”

“Together,” Roy echoes flatly.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, lifting his chin defiantly. “Together. Fucking hell, Roy, we work together and we hang out all the time and do fucking everything together and we sleep together. How much more together do you wanna be?”

“I didn’t say we weren’t together, you muppet!” Roy snaps, because he isn’t sure what’s going on here and he’s never been very good with either uncertainty or surprises. “It’s just… ,” he fumbles, “Fucking flowers? That’s something you want? Me to bring you… fucking roses and shit?”

It’s not thar Roy minds buying flowers, in general. He bought Keeley flowers all the time and he fucking loved how much she loved that. He just hadn’t realised that his and Jamie’s thing was a thing that ought to include flowers.

He sure as hell hadn’t grasped that his failure to bring them meant that they weren’t together.

Jamie sets his jaw mulishly. “And what if I do?”

And what if indeed. Roy grits his teeth, resigning himself to the truth even as he speaks it. “Then I fucking would. I will. If you want me to, I’ll… bring you flowers. Okay?”

“Yeah?” Jamie brightens. It pisses Roy off how much the sight of it makes him want to smile.

It pisses him off, in a whole different way, that Jamie would trust Roy to do absolutely anything with—and to—him, but not trust him enough to trust that Roy would bring flowers just because Jamie asked.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Fuck. If it’s important to you, I’ll… I don’t know. Order a fuckton of bloody dahlias and have them delivered to your house first thing in the morning.” He looks up at Jamie. “Okay?”

Jamie waves a hand dismissively. “Nah, don’t bother, mate, I’m good. Don’t really care for flowers, to be honest. Kind of sad, innit, taking them in just to have them die in a vase.”

Before Roy can ask him what the fuck this is all about then, Jamie adds seriously, “But listen, I want us to do other together stuff, all right? I dunno, go on proper dates maybe. I mean, they’re gonna have be secret ones, but everyone knows we’re mates so it won’t be weird if we go for dinner, yeah?”

“We have dinner all the fucking time,” Roy points out, slightly outraged. He doesn’t spend every other night cooking for this twat only to be told they don’t have dinner.

“Yeah, here, after you’ve made me do a million burpees. Not the same, innit. You don’t even light candles.”

Candles. Is there supposed to be candles now? Or are those like the flowers, only metaphorical? “But I didn’t know you wanted that,” Roy protests. “You never said.”

“Yeah, well.” Jamie shrugs, looking a little defensive. “You never said either. We kinda just happened. And it’s been fine,” he quickly adds. “Fucking love it, yeah? And like, we can keep on doing what we’re doing, I don’t mind… but maybe it’d be nice to do other things too.”

Closing his eyes, Roy gives a short nod, his fuck nothing more than a sigh.

Because yeah. Maybe it would be fucking nice. Roy might have allowed himself to think that, maybe, if it hadn’t been so fucking easy to just… not. So easy not to talk about it, just let their coach-player dynamic seamlessly morph into something else off the pitch; into this gorgeous thing of Jamie looking up at him with his plump lips parted, pliant and eager, ready for Roy’s next command—or ready to await Roy’s pleasure indefinitely.

He’s a beautiful thing to have, Jamie Tartt on his knees, and he’s Roy’s best friend. Roy could lose the sex, maybe, but he couldn’t fucking lose that.

But if Jamie wants more…

Roy can talk about that. Jesus fucking Christ, he won’t shut up about that. (He’ll hate every moment of it. He’ll do it all the same. For Jamie, and the way he’s looking at Roy now. There’s understanding in those grey eyes, and doubt, and hope.)

“Yeah, all right,” Roy says. That’ll have to do for now. He still hasn’t had dinner. Adds, just to be clear, “But you don’t want flowers.”

“No.”

“But you want to go on dates.”

“Be mint, yeah.”

“Did you mean… right now?”

Jamie cocks his head to the side and grins. “Hadn’t thought, but yeah, all right. Since you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t,” Roy mutters, but he is already reaching for his jacket. There is this restaurant he used to take the dates he particularly wanted to impress to, and he is willing to bet he could still wrangle a table without a reservation. “Come on, then.”

---

CODA

Perhaps he shouldn’t, but as Ola prepares to board the plane that will take him back home, he finds that he can’t not. He picks up his phone and sends Jamie a message:

It has been good to get to know you over the past few weeks. I hope things are going very well with your complicated someone.

It’s not fishing, as such. Just a reminder that Ola is there for Jamie, in his corner and rooting for him.

There is no immediate answer. The gate opens and Ola puts his phone away. When he pulls it out a few minutes later to turn it off for the flight, there’s a text from Jamie.

It only reads Going well, yeah but attached to it is a picture.

Jamie’s grin is as cheeky as ever, but his eyes are blazing and awed. Roy’s frown is as deep as ever, but is betrayed by the soft smile he can’t quite suppress.

Ah. Ah, yes. He understands now why Jamie and Samuel had called it complicated.

Understands, too, why Samuel had called it good.

He wonder what to write back; how to convey the approval and care and pride that is not strictly speaking his to give.

In the end Ola settles for the simple truth: I am happy for you.

Author's note

You know, I rather suspect that big, warm father figure Ola would get a very different Jamie Tartt experience than most others…

Huge thanks to destinatontoast for cheereading and very helpful suggestions, and to jedasaur for putting this whole thing together!

I didn’t mean to crash over the word limit like that, but unfortunately I’m incapable of keeping it short and sweet so here we are.