Chapter Text
“Come up, Jamie,” said Roy in his ear, roughly.
He couldn’t. Everything were so warm, and warm were heavy.
Everything were soft, and soft were thick.
“I know, lad,” said Roy. “But we need to stand up. The doctor wants us to go to medical.”
It were too many words.
“I- here, Tommy, help Roy, I’ll-”
Hands, under his arms.
Jamie fought. He weren’t fucking done! He weren’t fucking- it still hurt, and he were warm!
“Jamie!” said Roy, sharp and pain and anger and threat.
Jamie froze, and let the hands pull him up, on feet and calves and thighs and arse and everything that fucking burned and tingled and twisted and-
His eyes snapped open, and he watched Tommy help Roy to his feet, Roy stumbling a little, leaning on Tommy like it fucking hurt, stretching out his leg.
He’d done that.
He’d held Roy down.
He’d hurt Roy.
Bad.
Worse.
Bad, bad Jamie Tartt.
“You,” said Roy, shooting him a glare. “Whatever you think is happening, stop, Jamie.”
Stop, Jamie.
Bad Jamie, stop.
“Hey,” snapped Roy. “Shit, Ted, bring him here.”
A hand, on his neck, pushing him forward.
“SHhhh,” hushed Roy, and then he were back, to the warm, Roy stumbling a little but Tommy were there, hand on Roy. Helping Roy, while Roy brought his hands up, careful careful careful around the pain on Jamie’s back, hand over Ted’s on his neck. “Breathe with me, Jamie,” he said, and his body were calm, calm, calm.
Controlled.
Jamie breathed.
“Good boy,” whispered Roy. “I know it hurts. I know you want to kneel. We have to get to medical. You can kneel for me again when we get there, yeah? You were so good. We’ll- we’ll get you good again.”
Again.
You couldn’t be good again, if you’d always been bad.
“That’s not a good sound,” Tommy whispered.
“Enough, Tommy,” said Roy. “No more words. You’re fine just as you are, Jamie.”
Those were mummy’s words.
“You got your sea legs, captain?” asked Ted quietly.
“Yeah, think I can walk,” confirmed Roy.
“I feel like we got a tight window, for pulling this off, and the sash is frayed and about to fall,” sighed Ted.
“Then let’s get him wrapped, and get to fucking Medical, and then Tommy, you can go out with Ted, and Ted will show you how to act. We’re not going to talk about this with anyone, and I’m sorry to fucking put that on you, but until we have his consent, we’re the only ones who know, is that clear?”
“Yeah, Roy, sir, of course,” stammered Tommy.
“I’m dead serious, Tommy, it will be more than your job, and I need you to fucking know that,” Roy said.
“Roy, it’s Jamie Tartt,” said Tommy.
“Right,” said Roy. “Remember that. This is our striker, here.”
“He’s a twat but- but- but-”
“Yeah, I think we just- figured out a lot about why,” said Roy bitterly.
“Roy,” said Tommy quietly.
“I know it’s bad. Go with Ted. I’ve got him, lad.”
“We’ve got him,” Ted said, and Jamie heard Tommy sigh.
Tommy didn’t know that they lied, sometimes.
Or maybe they only lied to Jamie.
“Shh,” said Roy. “Gonna wrap you up in this sheet, and you’re going to walk with me, down the hall. Go on, Ted, check the way.”
A door opened. “All clear!”
The sheet were cold, and it hurt, put pressure where he didn’t want any.
And Roy’s arms were gone, and so were all his warmth.
“Good lad, this way,” said Roy, and then he were being gently pulled, and he followed, his feet tripping a bit, because he kept trying to kneel.
He weren’t supposed to kneel, though, so he kept moving forward, following Roy, until Roy said, quietly, “Okay, Jamie. Here. Find the cushion, and you can kneel.”
He opened his eyes enough to see the cushion and dropped like a stone.
“Fucking muppet,” said Roy, quiet and fond. “On the cushion, Jamie. The cushion’s for your knees. I want you to kneel, on the cushion.”
Didn’t make any sense, that, but-
But Andrew had a cushion.
Andrew made him kneel on the cushion.
Jamie could do that.
Soft were okay, when it were Roy.
Andrew said a cushion weren’t soft, it were safety.
Dad respected safety. Dad said he’d never kill him, because it weren’t safe.
The doctor came, and everything hurt, God, everything hurt, everything fucking hurt, but Roy said he could take it, Roy said he could take it for Roy, and so he could.
He’d taken worse.
And he hadn’t had no cushion, then.
Or warm rough hands, cupping his face.
“-is a mess, Kent. I haven’t seen worse, in all my years, but then, I’m sports, not social support. I can ask for a referral, if you-”
“You’re fine,” said Roy.
“Something sliced across the hematoma,” sighed the doctor. “I’ve got to debride and disinfect, not sure how clean it was.”
“I’ve got him,” Roy said. “Do your worst. Jamie, hold still.”
Worst.
Bad.
And then pain, pain, pain. Roy’s hands, Roy’s breathing, and he tried to match like the man kept saying, but it were harder, on his knees with Roy in the chair in front of him. It were much, much harder, to match his breathing.
“He’s so still,” said the doctor, when the pain were lesser.
“Yeah. They- they can take a lot. They- a lot. And he’s dropped, and I’ve got him.”
“He’s pretty attached, yeah? Didn’t think you two were close at all.”
“He’s- we’re not,” said Roy.
Jamie felt Roy’s hands on his face.
They were close.
He matched his breathing to Roy’s.
They were close.
“But I know what to do, and- it’s easy to do it, for him, yeah?”
“I think that’s the last of it,” sighed the doctor. “Rest. Total rest. He’s got to sleep on his front. I don’t treat a lot of dropped subs, but there’s guides.”
“I know,” said Roy. “I’ll take the time off, make sure it’s done.”
Silence.
“... you could report it, have it handled,” offered the doctor.
“I won’t do that to him,” Roy said firmly.
Firm, not soft. Rough, not soft.
Roy.
“I’ve a medical gown, soft cotton,” said the doctor. “It’ll cover him up. With the blanket, we could-”
“Yeah. I don’t think I can pull the G-wagon into the garage.”
“... I can do it.”
“Ta.”
Ta, ta ta.
“Shh, Jamie,” said Roy. “I know, I know, that was hard. It’s all scary right now, but shh. Trust in me, yeah? Good lad. Trust in me.”
Ta, Roy, ta.
~~~
The cushion made it easier to stand when Roy said to stand.
The gown weren’t worse than the hoodie. He didn’t have to lift his arms.
Everything hurt, and the wheelchair didn’t make it worse.
“He’s sick,” Roy said, “taking him home, stupid git. Letting him sleep it off. Doc gave him antibiotics, stupid git.”
Stupid stupid stupid.
Stupid fucking mouth.
He were in a car.
Roy buckled him in and the seat hurt and his arse hurt but Roy said to be quiet and so he were.
Roy were mad about the blood he spat when Roy said to spit, but said it were okay, and that made no sense, but sometimes they didn’t make sense, and he didn’t hit.
Jamie hated drop.
“Okay, home sweet fucking home,” sighed Roy. “Come on, Jamie. Good lad.”
“‘m not,” Jamie managed, around the things in his head, the fuzzy things that made thoughts too hard. “‘m not good.”
“Fine, then you bad boy, come along,” snapped Roy, and then immediately said, “I was joking, that was a joke, you’re a good boy, Jamie Tartt. Come along.”
It were the wrong joke.
Denbo joked about Jamie being a good boy.
Not a bad one.
The joke were, Jamie could never be a good boy.
And then the laughs and laughs, as he tried.
Roy put him on a couch, face down, laid the sheet over the top of him.
Jamie hated drop.
“Fuuuuck,” sighed Roy, “how do I fucking get myself into these fucking messes?”
Jamie were lost, lost, lost.
He had no idea, either.
Everything hurt and the sheet were too light and too heavy and too soft.
Roy settled beside him, lifted Jamie’s head, scrubbed his fingers through Jamie’s hair. “Shhh,” he said “Just- fucking settle. Just- lay there, Jamie, and breathe. Be a good boy for me, and breathe.”
He could breathe, although it hurt.
He knew how to do that.
Being a good boy were the hard one.
~~~
Roy were talking.
“-yeah, I’d feel better if you would,” said Roy quietly. “He’s pretty fucking out of it, I haven’t- maybe. Maybe your worst drop, it was like this. The second time, with- yeah. But, it’s pretty bad. He’s pretty far gone. No, I got some food into him, had to hand-feed him, but- but he ate. Didn’t sick it back up. Kept calling red, so… yeah. Yeah, I’m aware. I know my own fucking dynamic, yeah? I know it’s doing damage-”
A deep breath, hand in his hair. “Shhh, Jamie, I’m sorry. One sec, I have to breathe.”
Deep breaths, for both of them. Enough to get the tears back under control.
“Sorry, don’t- I know its trauma for me, too, pushing through a red. Come over. Find a sitter for Phoebs, and come- I’m asking for help, now. Please. Come help me, for an hour, even.”
Deep breaths.
“... thanks. Yes, I know, I never ask for anything, and then I ask for too much.”
Chuckles.
“Thanks. Just an hour, I know it’s too much to ask, but- he called red a lot. … yeah, he’s stopped. Started fucking apologizing, but at least that I don’t have to push through.”
Low laugh, hand in his hair giving little tugs, melting his brain. “No, what did she say then?” asked Roy, sounding amused.
More laughs.
Jamie fucking hated drop, but.
But this one weren’t so bad.
~~~
She were kneeling for Roy.
Jamie peeled an eye open, and there she were. He’d heard something- talking- Roy had left and said be still. So he’d been still.
And now she were here, and kneeling, for Roy.
Roy’s hands were in her hair, stroking through the mass of it.
The sun had gone down and it were dark, the lamp glow soft.
Roy’s hands were in her hair, and he were tilting her head and calling her good girl, and she were doing everything he asked, but he weren’t asking much of her.
“Thank you,” said Roy.
She hadn’t done anything but kneel.
“You’re welcome, Roy,” she said, in a warm voice, standing up. “Just like old times, eh?”
“Well, fucking git on the couch watching, little weird,” said Roy wryly.
She came close, and Jamie buried his face in his arm.
Gentle hand in his hair, too soft, and not Roy’s, but Roy were watching, and he knew they liked to watch, sometimes.
Please let this not be that.
Not again.
Not while he were dropped.
“You’ll get better,” she said quietly. “You’ll heal.”
He knew that.
He always did.
“Rest,” she said, and then she stepped back.
Roy didn’t tell her to fuck him.
He told Jamie to be still, and he walked her out.
Jamie were still, and Roy came back.
“Bedtime,” said Roy.
Jamie didn’t want the cold garage floor again.
Maybe if he didn’t move, he could stay on the couch.
He were warm, when Roy were near.
Roy had other ideas.
But they ended up in his bed.
Jamie tried to stay awake, because they did things to you in your sleep, when you were in their beds, but he kept drifting, because Roy’s hand were in his hair and he were making Jamie breathe his same breathing.
And then, like that, he were out.