Work Text:
Colin Hughes wasn't the first Premier League footballer to come out. In fact it wasn't anyone from Richmond; four other blokes beat them to it. Times were sure changing. When it was finally time for Richmond's own to shine a rainbow light, it wasn't Colin, who managed to marry his Michael in a private small ceremony without anyone in the press catching wind of it. It was coach and ex-footballer legend Roy Kent, and his former enemy and current rising star Jamie Tartt.
Well, that was a whole lot of noise, a lot of cameras flashing. The tabloids thought they would squeeze this juicy morsel for months to come. But Kent, as usual, was giving them less than nothing, and Tartt, as usual, was swanning about in a way that would not let them hound him any more than his publicist allowed, gave them only perfectly coiffed front pages and gleaming wide smiles for the cameras. They got tired of it soon enough.
Then one day some months later there was a knock on Jamie's door. He opened it, unthinking. And froze.
"Um. Hey, son."
James Tartt Sr. shuffled, uncomfortable. He looked about the same as last time Jamie had seen him - short hair, clean shirt, clear eyes. The lines of age and pain and sobriety around his eyes. Jaw not quite clean-shaven, but not quite scruffy. Scuffed shoes, jeans worn by time and not by stylish design, unlike Jamie's own.
They'd got along a little better over the past two years. Meeting only in public "dry" places, sharing fragile, awkward moments. Avoiding the topic of football and Georgie and anything else really that held any weight.
Jamie hadn't heard from his father since the news about him and Roy broke. He had the occasional unpleasant dream about it, though.
"Dad," he said now, throat dry. Consciously eased down his shoulders. Reminded himself the hard-earned, hard-learned mantra, I'm an adult. We are on equal ground. I am not a frightened child in this relationship.
He was still terrified.
Roy was home. He could call out. But what kind of a baby called for help just because his father was at the door?
"You heard," he said instead. Silly, really; everyone in the country had probably heard. All those front pages.
"Yeah. I didn't - that's not what I - " James shook his head irritably, the same way Jamie sometimes did when words crowded in his mouth but couldn't find the right order to get out. "I don't care about all that," he finally said.
Jamie barked a laugh, couldn't help it. "You called me a pussy more times than I can count," he said, incredulous.
"Yeah," his father admitted, "but that wasn't about - It was about football. Not, uh." He waved his hand. Same as Jamie did to describe all that. "I shouldn'ta done it," James suddenly said. "Either way. It was just about being more aggressive on the pitch, but I shouldn't have said it."
"I don't need to play aggressive," Jamie said, mouth dry, "I just need to play smart."
"Yeah," James agreed. He stared for a moment, then cracked a smile. "You'd know better than I do."
Jamie's mouth fell open. Of all the things he'd ever imagined his father saying, this was never... They've come a long way, but this was, well, a whole other ball game.
"Jamie?" Roy called from inside, and Jamie started. Roy moved eerily quietly when he wanted to. He was right over Jamie's shoulder in a second. Jamie felt him there, and didn't need to look to know he had the darkest scowl on. "What're you doing here?" he demanded. Jamie winced. Expected his father to taunt Roy, or mock Jamie for needing his big bad boyfriend protecting him.
James shook his head again. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm not here because of," he gestured between them. "Or, I suppose I am. In a way."
Jamie said nothing. Roy growled impatiently.
"I wanted to tell you about Uncle Aaron," James said.
Jamie stared. "I have an Uncle Aaron?" he asked, puzzled. He'd never heard of the man before.
"Well, no," James said. "You have a great-uncle Aaron. Your Gramps' younger brother."
"Huh." Jamie barely knew Gramps. He barely knew anyone from his dad's side of the family; Georgie wasn't keen to keep in touch with them, if she ever had been in the first place. "Is he like... alive?"
James nodded. "Yeah, yeah. He lives in Lambstail Downs. Was supposed to retire last year, but he didn't want to, so he decided to keep working part-time in a little book shop there. That's what I heard, anyway. I only got back in with that part of the family lately, and I hadn't visited him since... Well."
~
It was awkward. It was well fucking awkward. Roy made three cups of tea, and hung back, and listened.
~
"I was fifteen," James Tartt Sr. said, hands wrapped around his mug, "and me dad just beat the shit out of me. That's not the story," he hurried to add. "That's no story at all. Just another Tuesday really.
"Except this time I got an itch or something about it. Decided I'm done with him and all. Had a bit of money saved, too, so I took the bus and then hiked through muddy fields full of sheep turds. It were raining cats and dogs... I'm only telling you this to explain," he said at Roy's darkening expression. "I was soakin' wet by the time I made it to his door. Chills. Shoes wet all the way through. Mud to me knees."
Jamie stirred his tea in slow, mechanical motions.
"I'd been drinking. To keep warm, you see. Or at least that's how I thought of it. I knocked. A bloke opened the door. A ponce. Excuse me." He shook his head again. "I remember he was wearing a pink scarf. Perfume. Rouge, I was willing to bet."
"So?" Roy growled. Jamie said nothing.
"That was Kev. Uncle Aaron's husband," James said, levelling an uneasy look at Roy. He returned his attention to Jamie, who was sitting there, face carefully blank. "Not really husband, 'course. Wasn't a thing back then. But as good as."
James' shoulders were by his ears, as if he was cold again, soaking wet, meeting his Uncle for the first time.
"He let me in. I might've called him a fairy. Can't remember."
He stopped talking, stared into middle distance for a second.
"That's a lie. I must've called him that half a dozen times over the next two weeks. I just don't know if I called him that the first minute of seeing him. Sounds like something I mighta done, at the time. I were fifteen, and drunk. And a little shit."
Roy nodded without thinking, knew what that was like. Jamie only stared into his tea.
"Uncle was... not impressed with me," James continued. "He told me to get out of the wet clothes and into a hot bath. I told him I don't want any funny business, don't want him or the other bloke thinking they can fiddle about. He told me to fuck off upstairs and not think so highly of meself."
James chuckled then, as if to a treasured memory. Jamie winced. It was something Roy had learned to notice, and he noticed it more than he liked.
"They gave me dry clothes and a hot meal. They must've seen the bruises and all, once the mud was all washed off and my hair was out of my face, but they didn't ask anything. Maybe they talked about it amongst themselves when I wasn't listening.
"I stayed on their sofa. The next day I was coming down with a bit of a fever. Uncle Aaron said he's going to work, and Kev can drive me to a doctor. I said I don't want to be alone in a car with him. I was a snot-nosed punk bastard then."
Roy said nothing, but he glared daggers and hoped it would make it clear he thought nothing much had changed.
"My uncle rolled his eyes. So did Kev. He looked a fairy but was tough as nails. He just let me sit on the sofa and be an arsehole and went about his business. I asked him if he was the housewife. If he wore frilly knickers for my uncle. He didn't take any of the bait. I remember that much.
"Then my fever got higher. When my uncle returned, they took me to a village doctor. He gave me pills or something. Antibiotics. Said I should rest. I stayed on their sofa for almost two whole weeks.
"That's when they called back home, and me mam told them to send me back. Said the school called and they'll get her in trouble if I wasn't back. So they had to bundle me back as soon as the fever was down. Drove me to the bus station. Gave me sandwiches for the road. Kev patted me on the back. I told him to fuck off."
James was staring again. Then he added softly, "Mum hadn't noticed I'd been gone until the school called."
The three men were silent for a long moment. Jamie took a careful sip of his tea.
"When I got back," James kept speaking very quietly, "dad said if I ever went to see Aaron again, he won't let me back into the house. I almost went back just to spite him, but... I didn't. I haven't seen them since."
Roy cleared his throat. He wanted to say something, something compassionate, like that sucks. It didn't come out.
James looked up and now there was an easy smile on his face, the same mean cheer that looked like nothing could touch it. Arrogant prick, Roy thought, and then caught himself. Making it look easy didn't mean it was. He'd learned that much from knowing Jamie.
"From what I heard, they're still there," James said casually, as if imparting some unimportant gossip. "Book shop in the main street, can't miss it. Rainbow flag and all."
Jamie's mouth formed a surprised little 'o'. Roy wondered if he was just catching on to the reason his father had told him this story.
James drained his cup of tea in one go and stood up.
"I'll get out of your hair now," he said, awkward again. "Uh. If you do happen by Lambstail, you tell Uncle Aaron I said hey, yeah? Don't be a stranger."
Roy wanted to say something. He really did. James was surprisingly quick on his feet, and before Roy could get the words out, he was at the door. Jamie was right on his heels, opening the door for him, exchanging words in a low voice that Roy didn't catch. And just like that, James Tartt Sr. was out of their lives again. Until the next time.
~
"Thanks, dad," Jamie had said.
His father grunted. "Yeah." Then the words came tumbling fast and anxious out of his mouth. "Don't let anyone tell you it's wrong. You've been wanting it forever, you went and got it. That's my son." He gave him a sad smile. "You go for what you want, Jamie. Not aggressive. Just smart." He patted his son on the shoulder.
Jamie didn't flinch this time.
James turned and walked away. Jamie shut the door quietly behind him.
~
"I need to get some new stuff to read," Roy said gruffly.
Jamie still looked dazed. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He swallowed. "Wanna go to Lambstail Downs on your next day off? I hear there's a nice little bookshop there."
[end]