She's the Man / Roy Kent

Chapter twelve.

Chapter twelve, Lavender.
"WHY WE ARE WHO WE ARE."

   DEFINED BY SIMPLE TERMS, the act of getting sober was not too dissimilar to that of waking up – entering the transcendent planes of nirvana in what could only be a psychological desire triggered by devine enlightenment.

Rebirth, in a sense.

    Ada Tartt thought that was complete and utter bullshit. Because, sure, she stopped drinking, but whether it be the butterfly effect (yet another bogus phenomenon which manifested itself in the mind of philosophers) or fucking destiny, she had, for a time, become what she always feared she would be; her father.

   Or, well, something not too far off from what he was.

   James Tartt was a broken man. And before that, he had been a broken boy. Stern dad and overbearing mother and pregnant girlfriend-turned-wife. A lad who never got to live out his dream. But, more than that, he was an addict. Someone who was overtly glutinous. A slave to his cravings and vices. Not necessarily weak, but someone who couldn't bare the responsibility that came with being strong.

   Not too long ago, Ada thought she was much the same. The origins certainly checked out; a troubled soul whose accumulation of childhood upheavals and tribulations had served as a catalyst for her (seemingly inevitable) fall from grace. Someone whose dream of becoming great was ripped away from them too soon. Someone who fell into a routine of drinking in order to avoid the cards they'd been dealt.

   Sharon took a small sip of her coffee. "And was it difficult, stopping?"

   "No, see that's the thing."  Ada sat up straighter in her seat. "Stopping was so fucking easy, because I never craved it. Never felt like I had to drink. I just did it. A lot. There was a time where I was barely ever sober. I'd put shit in me coffee every morning just to make sure the kick was still there."

   "And why do you think you did that?"

   "Because I thought that was people did, you know? When they lost something."

   (It was what James did after his mother forced him to wed. After he hung up his football boots and laced up the ones suited for welding – the job he very briefly took up in order to provide.

   Ada vividly remembered that time when she and her brother pretended to be pirates hunting for treasure, and how they happened upon the box of old photographs that Georgie kept under her bed. Could remember finding the pictures of her father, the ones where he was young and light and free. Smoking with his mates and kissing his girlfriend and kicking a football and seeing The Stone Roses perform live at a pub.

Always in a Man City shirt.

   Always smiling.

Ada remembered that he looked so different from the James that she knew, the man he'd become after adulthood was forced onto him. He wasn't like her mother, he didn't know how to adjust to change. Didn't know how to put others first. How to become responsible. How to deal with things.

   James didn't know how to stop being a boy.

  Didn't know how to stop in general, really. He'd always been creature of habit, didn't matter if it was good or bad.)

   "I hope you know," Sharon raised her voice slightly to ensure that she could be heard over the chatter. "That I'm not in any way advising you give up on sobriety. I simply think it's important to acknowledge why you chose this path."

   "Right, well, you're sounding way too therapisty right now." Ada fiddled with her fork, eyes darting around the cafe in search of a distraction. "Quick, tell me a joke so that I feel like we're friends."

   The psychologist raised an unimpressed brow.

   It wasn't too long after their first conversation that Ada sought her out. The young woman had been very clear about her opinions on therapy (how she was a sceptic and how she thought it was a hoax), but was nonetheless curious to hear more of Sharon's thoughts – as long as they didn't do it in a professional environment, and as long as they didn't call it therapy.

She much preferred for Sharon to simply converse with her outside of their shared work place. And whilst the doctor understood her reluctance and was sympathetic, she didn't believe in making a game out of things. To act like they were out for breakfast as friends? Like there wasn't a problem solve and behaviour to fix? To make jokes because things were suddenly hitting too close?

   "We are not here as friends."

   Ada rolled her eyes, "Okay, yeah, fine. I get that. Just make a joke anyway. . ."

    Sharon glanced up from her plate when the girl's voice trailed off.

Her lips were still parted, but the words appeared to be held hostage in her throat – or forgotten about entirely. And her brown eyes were locked onto something in the distance.

    A glance over her shoulder told Sharon that it was the television that had managed to ensnare Ada Tartt's attention. Or, rather, the face that was now on screen.

   "Aye!" Ada distractedly waved at their waitress, a young girl who was once again donning a familiar Arsenal patch. "Hey, Shannon, volume up, please!"

   And Shannon, whose mother and father owned this establishment, and who had free reign over the remote control, was quick to heed the request. Not because it was a customer bidding her a favour, but because it was Ada fucking Tartt.

"Yes, but we are lucky to have with us, here in the studio, loser, Jamie." Phil Schofield was announcing as he and his co-host, Holly Willoughby, took to the screen once more.

   Sat on the opposite couch was Ada's twin brother. And he looked displeased with his introduction. "Easy, Phillip. I'm not just a loser, I'm the loser."

    Many of the cafe's patrons snorted.

    Ada swallowed thickly.

   "Well, Jamie, look," Holly sighed, blonde hair catching in the studio's bright light. "First things first. Will you keep your promise to Amy? Are you gonna wait for her?"

   "Nah, no." He shrugged. "I was just playing the game, do you know what I mean?"

    The game. That was what he was calling it, this farce. Ada remembered when that referred to something else entirely. Something sacred. Their game. Football, the only game that mattered.

   Jamie was her brother and she loved the bones of him – so much so that when he told her he was thinking of exploring other things, she'd been supportive (confused, yes, but understanding). But choosing to get into reality television? And leaving Manchester City in order to do it?

That wasn't like him at all, no matter how on brand the public thought it was.

   This wasn't him.

   "You know, find the fittest girl there, have sex with her in the toilet, ask her to marry ya. Strategy."

(Okay, maybe that was Jamie.)

    Phil and Holly exchanged a look before the former cleared his throat and spoke. "Well, speaking of strategy, you decided to leave your club, Man City, right at the start of their season. Why so?"

    Jamie pursed his lips, briefly glancing at the camera. "Just something I had to do, y'know what I mean? The second that I found out that George Harrison had died, I realised that I had to stop waiting for life to begin." He waved his hand around as if to emphasise the validity of his newfound mentality. "Start taking chances. Living life to the fullest."

"But George Harrison died twenty years ago." Holly murmured.

"Yeah, but I only just found out." He glanced at the camera again. "Me sister thought I already knew, let it slip."

"Your sister, Ada Tartt."

Jamie frowned at them like they were stupid. "Yeah, Ades. I only have the one." He then pointed to the studio audience. "And I said Ades not Aids. I dont have that."

The presenters blinked at him.

Sharon looked away from the television to face her unofficial patient, but the girl stayed focused on the screen. It was as though she couldn't look away. Like she thought her brother would disappear or make another bad career decision if she dared to blink.

"So," Phil clapped. "What's next for Jamie Tartt?"

"Don't know. Back to, uh, Man City." He scratched at his forehead, as if the prospect of going back was something that he nearly dreaded. "If Pep will have me, that is."

Holly smiled. "It's funny you mention that because we've got a clip."

Ada sat up when the interview transitioned into an unreleased videoclip. Vinai Ahuja, City's director of operations, was stood in front of a reporter. He was a familiar face, one that she'd seen many a time growing up; when she was a part of the Man City family, and even before that, when she was nothing more than a loyal supporter.

"Any thoughts on Jamie Tartt and his future with Manchester City?"

"Ah, yes, Jamie!" Vinai grinned good-naturedly. "You know, my wife and I really thought that he and Amy were meant for each other." His smile dropped. "But, no, he won't be coming back to Man City. We wish him luck."

Jamie was gaping when the camera panned over to him.

Ada's expression matched his exactly.

(Sharon thought that the Tartt siblings never looked more like twins than they did now – granted, she'd only ever seen them together on covers of tabloids or during televised football events.)

"Oh." He said dumbly, eyes dazed.

Neither host was sympathetic to his plight, both turning to grin at the cameras.

"Well, thanks for stopping by, Jamie! Good to see you as always," Holly tittered. "When we come back, have scientists really discovered low fat custard that doesn't make you sad?"

"Sounds too good to be true!" Phil shrugged, smiling as the segment ended and as an advert began playing.

Sharon tilted her head curiously, watching as Ada pursed her lips and shifted in her chair. The therapist was waiting for her to speak first. Was waiting to hear her thoughts; on her brother, on his decision, how she felt about the whole thing.

"Bet that low fat custard would put you of a job, eh?"

Okay, so, clearly it was down to Sharon to initiate serious conversation. But to speak of new matters, such as Jamie, when other matters, such as James, were still unresolved would be redundant. And it didn't matter that this wasn't an official session by Ada's standards, the therapist had a certain method that she had to stick to.

So, she asked about the alcohol again. But made sure to keep her voice light so as to not drive the girl away.

"When did you have your first drink?"

Ada sighed tiredly, munching on a bit of toast as she pondered her answer. "Think I was, like, ten or something. Maybe eleven. Me and Jamie, we had this mate named Skinhead Sid." She wiped her mouth with a folded napkin. "His dad owned a bakery and there was an off licence right next door. We nicked a few beers. Drank them in his garage. Pretty sure Jamie cried."

There was a fond look in Ada's eyes as she quietly recalled the core memory. How they'd planned it all out during break time at school, like it was some sort of heist. How they had a nervous Jamie walk in and buy crisps in an effort to distract Steve Little, the store owner. How Sid and Ada snuck into the back and grabbed as many chilled bottles as they could. How Steve immediately caught on to what they were doing. How he chased them down for a solid amount of time. How they hid in Miss Berry's garden until they were sure the coast was clear.

They'd immediately booked it to Sid's house after that (the twins had been stern about not doing anything in their own home, knowing that Georgie was napping in the living room – a rare moment of respite between her shifts), and it was in his newly renovated garage that they chugged the beers.

Sid had really wanted to snog Ada, so she let him. Then they vomited on the freshly installed flooring. And Jamie cried.

"And that was your first experience with alcohol?"

Ada stilled. And then she cocked her head to the side, a somewhat sad smile on her face. "That wasn't the question."

✸

   They talked for another hour before eventually wrapping up – it was with regret in her voice that Sharon had to cut breakfast short, and it was with relief in Ada's that she'd bid her goodbye.

   The girl then decided to stick around the cafe for a little while longer, talking to young Shannon about football and school. They'd even engaged in a rather heated debate about who was the fittest guy on the Richmond team; Shannon was insistent that it was Isaac, Ada was unwavering in her belief that the fittest player had already retired after busting his knee.

    And it was that same retired midfielder that was now dropping her off at work.

   "Thanks for the ride," She smiled at him, pulling her leather jacket back on as he parked the car. "Wanna come in for a bit? Help me put glitter in Richard's hair gel before training?"

   Roy snorted, but his answer was firm and left no room for argument. "No."

   It was obvious that even being near the clubhouse put him on edge. He loved driving Ada here, loved their small talk and her inconsistent music selection, but the drop off was suffocating. He could see the green pitch and could hear the distant sound of boots on gravel. Could make out the familiar janitors and the maintenance crew.

   It was all too familiar.

   "Fine, fine. Be boring." Ada rolled her eyes, turning in her seat so that she was facing him. "Doing anything cool today, then? Other than, you know, me."

    He shot her a vaguely amused look.

It didn't matter that they'd been together for a while, there was something about her crass mouth that still struck him. It was somewhat impressive, actually. Ada was always so quick with it. Her mind worked faster than the most intricate engine; jokes and complex plays and wisdom, she could cook all of it up at the drop of a hat.

   "Nothing til the match later," Roy pursed his lips and briefly considered his girlfriend. "Oi, can I get your opinion on a strategy?"

    Ada raised an eyebrow, pulling her whistle out from under her Richmond zip up. "This isn't just for role playing, you know? Strategy is me shit."

    "I'm thinking of getting the girls to run a four, four, two diamond formation."

   "Oh, wow. Yeah, that's good. Confident with your defence?"

    He nodded, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "That little Kokoruda girl is a fucking beast."

    Ada hummed appreciatively. Strikers were offensive players, and it was difficult to find one that understood the critical role of defending whilst in attack mode. To have that down, and at such a young age, was incredibly impressive.

   "You coming to watch?"

    "Can't." She gave him a guilty smile. "I mean, trust me, I want to go support those adorable babies, but, I--"

   "But, you have to worry about the big baby currently roaming around London?"

   Jamie.

   Jamie, who she knew would pop up unannounced at some point in the day. It was somewhat of a tradition, one that had been established when Ada left Manchester; she never texted or called before visiting, and would instead show up at Etihad Campus while he trained. Or would barge into their shared room as he slept.

   He'd done good at returning the favour since moving back home. They hadn't actually seen each other since Richmond got relegated (she was busy coaching, he'd been busy filming his reality show), but all his visits before that had been surprises.

She could appreciate the consistency.

    "Yeah," Ada rolled her eyes and pushed his face back with the flat of her palm. His sarcastic expression was as endearing as it was infuriating. "I'll probably see him during me lunch hour. But come over after your match, okay? I'll be home by then."

   "I'll cook you cordon bleu for dinner." Roy grabbed her hand, lips ghosting over her knuckles. "Nigella says if you butterfly the chicken, it'll be more moist."

   She blinked at him, never having heard of Nigella and not knowing what a cordon blue was. "How do you butterfly a chicken? They're not even in the same family."

    Roy bit the inside of his cheek and slowly shook his head. Beautiful and funny and sharp, but she was still a Tartt. "Don't worry about it. Just put it in your mouth and enjoy." He rolled his eyes when that earned him a cheeky grin. "You absolute child."

   "Not sure what turns me on more, you telling me to put it in me mouth or the fact that you wanted to talk strategy in the car." Ada leaned closer to him. "If we were in the backseat, I'd think you were trying to seduce me."

    "Fuck off."

    "I love you."

    He raised an eyebrow.

   "I do," Ada grinned, grabbing his scruffy face and pressing a kiss to his mouth. "I love you." Another kiss. "I love you." And another. "I love you."

    Roy felt himself grow warm all over. Those three words and that voice and that smile, he never wanted any of it to end. There was a time not too long ago when he hated how Ada Tartt got under his skin, and now he found himself wishing she would just stay there; in the microscopic gap between bone and flesh, radiating her heat across his internal body.

   His hands were suddenly pulling her close, hoping to turn the sweet pecks into something deeper, but she was pulling away at the sound of a familiar laugh.

    Ada looked out her window to see Ted Lasso on the back of a ride-on mower. Despite the safe and steady pace, he was still clinging on to the driver; Patric, who was in charge of maintaining the pitch, and who occasionally offered to give Ted and Ada a ride around the field if they showed up early enough.

   She glanced down at her watch. "Oh, fuck, I missed it."

    "I'm sure he wanted to wait for you but suddenly got homesick." Roy mused, watching as his former coach hopped off the machine. "Closest thing he can find to a Dodge Ram."

    "I don't know what that is." Ada snorted, turning to give him one more kiss before opening the car door. "Good luck with your match. Give Phoebe me love."

    "Good luck with your idiot brother. Don't give him anything from me."

    She shot him an unimpressed look, but wasn't given the chance to issue a rebuttal because a cheery voice was suddenly calling out to her.

    "Soufflé! What a day, hey?" A pause, and then, "Oh! That was a triple rhyme right there!"

    "Alright, Ted?" Ada laughed, shutting the car door and pulling her hair into a loose ponytail – she was still adjusting to the longer length.

    "Uh-oh!" The American grinned as he peeped over her shoulder. "Is that big, bad Roy Kent in there?"

     Roy was speeding out of the car park before eye contact could be established and before anything resembling a conversation could take place.

    Ada pursed her lips, slowly turning to face her friend – who was somehow able to maintain his sunny disposition despite the dejected slump of his shoulders. "Sorry about him. He's in a rush, you know? Something about butterflies and chickens."

"Hey, I've been there," He shrugged, patting her arm. "It ain't easy."

    "Yeah," She slowly nodded, too scared to ask what he was talking about. Her eyes then flickered over to the pitch. "Looked like you were having fun without me."

   Ted pointed a stern finger at her. "Listen here, I was having fun while you weren't present, but I was not having fun without you." He tilted his head. "Besides, my sciatica was acting up. You know that the vibrations really help my butt."

    "Yeah, I was just teasing." Ada grinned, linking her arm with his and pulling him towards the entrance.

    "Oh, look who's here!"

     She followed his line of sight and saw Doctor Sharon pulling in on her bicycle.

   "Huh," Ted mused, stopping to watch her dismount. Ada, whose arm was still tethered to his, had no choice but to halt as well. "That's a cool bike."

Sharon was folding it up, from wheel to seat post. When she was done, the bicycle ended up resembling some sort of futuristic suitcase.

Ada blinked. "That thing converted faster than Ian Miller in My Big Fat Greek Wedding."

"Oh, nice reference, pal." Ted nodded appreciatively before glancing back at the woman. "The doc really is more than meets the eye, ain't she?"

"Yeah." She mumbled in agreement.

"Hey, doc--tor Sharon!" Ted called out, awkwardly stuttering as he remembered the boundary she set up.

"Good morning." Sharon briefly greeted before walking inside, folded bike in her hand and poise in her step.

    "What's she doing here, I wonder. Don't we have direct deposit?"

Ada shrugged. "Pretty sure she works here now. Higgins asked her to stay."

Ted stiffened, forcing a chuckle as he looked away from the door to face the girl beside him. "Now why would he go and do that?"

Another shrug. "She's really good at her job, to be fair." She paused before hurriedly adding to her sentence. "Like, from what I've seen, you know? With Dani. And the rest of the team. The ones doing therapy and that."

A weird feeling settled in his gut, one that had Ted thinking back to his conversation with Beard from over a week ago. They were at Mae's, having dinner, and his best friend suddenly accused him of being jealous – envious of the fact that his players were choosing to seek security and council from a psychiatrist rather than from their head coach.

Ted had denied it then, but could that have been because he knew Sharon's days were numbered?

No, surely not.

(But, then, why was he feeling this way? Now that he knew she was sticking around, why was a shameful shade of green running through his bones like a sickly marrow?)

"I ain't gone deny that she's good," He laughed, rocking on his feet. "But, I mean, burdens. . . ain't that why people got friends? Look at you and me, we tell each other everything."

"Yeah," Ada smiled lightly. "Any burden you wanna unload, mate?"

"Uh," His breath stuttered. "Nope. You?"

    She swallowed. "Nah."

"Good, good."

But it wasn't good. At least, not if the way he marched down the hall was any indication.

    "Hey, Higgins," Ted greeted with a hard enough tone as he and Ada walked into the office. "Did you hire Dr. Sharon without running it by me first?"

    Ada exchanged a look with Nate as she set her bag down at her desk. It was a mess, with ink blotting the mahogany and clutter occupying every inch of the surface. You could barely see the wood under all the scrunched up sheets of paper and tactic books and dried pens and picture frames (three picture frames, to be exact; one was a picture she took of Dani Rojas smoking a cigar in a fur coat, another was a picture of her, Keeley, and Jamie absolutely sloshed at an amusement park, and the most recent addition was a picture of Nate sleeping at his desk – Ada liked to have that one displayed so as to remind him that, of the two of of them, she was the more competent employee). 

    "Uh, yes, I thought it couldn't hurt." Higgins slowly nodded. "But I should've asked you first, Ted, you're absolutely right."

     A lull.

    "No, I'm dead wrong!" Ted grimaced, dropping his sunglasses on the desk. "I mean, heck, you're Director of Football Operations, you know? You gotta be able to make your own decisions." He plopped down in his chair. "Still, you should've texted me first."

     "That's a hundred percent true."

     "No!" He grimaced again, as if the mere idea of Higgins being sorry to any degree physically pained him. "A thousand percent false! I mean, you're a busy man! Whatever path you think is best is gonna be best – still, next time you have plans, I want you to run 'em by me first, okay?"

    Higgins opened and closed mouth, struggling to structure a sentence. He glanced over at Ada, who was now leaning against the doorway to her and Nate's office. She gave him a firm head shake.

    "No, I will not!"

    "Good! Why should you?" Ted clapped encouragingly. He then looked at everyone in the room. "Y'all do as you please -- uh, within reason, of course. I ain't your daddy!"

    Ada scratched her nose.

    Beard cleared his throat. "Uh, Ada, I got your email." He pointed to his screen. "You can't keep signing off with smell you later. Everything sent out from these computers is automatically CC'd."

   "I don't know what that means." She shrugged, stepping into the main room and perching herself on his desk.

    Beard turned the computer monitor around so that he could explain the basics of emailing to her, but Ted was speaking up again. And he sounded drained.

   "Okay. Great. We got ourselves a new member of the team. That's fine."

    Ada sighed, giving him a look.

    "I'm serious! It's all good!" Ted raised his hands defensively. "This is n--" He stilled rather abruptly, curiously sniffing at the air. "Why does it smell like my nana's house in here?"

   Ada deeply inhaled, and she felt her body instantly relax at the familiar scent.

    "Oh, Ted!" Nate yelped, launching himself from his chair and eagerly approaching. "Wait until you hear this shit!" 

   He'd been meaning to discuss Will's self proclaimed initiative for weeks. Heating the shower towels, putting lavender scented fabric softener in the laundry, spraying vanilla mist in the boot room, asking the cook to prepare Eccles cakes on Fridays.

   Ted perked up, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially. "Do tell, Ricky Bell."

    "Nate, how did you know lavender was me favourite?" Ada laughed.

    The assistant coach paused, glancing away from Ted and looking to the only girl in the room. He watched as she took her Richmond zip up off, pulling it over her head rather than simply undoing the zipper. Her tanned midriff was on display for a mere second, but it was enough for Nate's cheeks to flush. And her toned arms, which were now visible in the black and red short sleeve, were certainly something to envy.

   He glanced down at his own arms, and briefly wondered if he should start working out now that he was coaching a team of athletes (and sharing an office space with one).

    "I--"

    "It was Will." Beard sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Nate hates it."

    "You hate lavender?"

     He quickly shook his head. "It can throw off a player's headspace!"

    "You know," Higgins began in a wise tone of voice, hands clasped at his front. "In meditation, we learn that the colour lavender represents spiritual awakening and inner transformation."

    "It's important that we're all peaceful and calm at work." Ada quietly mused before suddenly perking up. "Oh! Anyone wanna help me put glitter in Richard's hair gel?"

    Ted grinned.

  

✸

Training ended after a chunk of glitter found its way into Richard's mouth, causing him vomit all over the grass. Which then triggered Colin's own gag reflex. Which then had Isaac spewing as well (the captain wasn't a sympathetic vomiter, but rather, a sympathetic best friend who didn't want Colin to go at it alone).

It was safe to say that Ada didn't see any of that coming. And even safer to say that she'd completely lost her appetite by the time her lunch break came around.

"Just the tea, then?" The barista asked, trying not to stare at the celebrity standing in front of her.

"Yeah," Ada nodded, leaning against the counter. "You don't happen to have pancakes, do you? I accidentally made me mate throw up his breakfast at work today, and I want to make it up to him."

"Just waffles."

"That won't do, he's weary of squares." She sighed. "Yeah, no, just the tea then."

"Three pounds total."

Ada reached for her wallet, briefly glancing at the mirror behind her as she did so. It was only after paying and generously tipping that she did a double take. Why the fuck would there be a mirror in the middle of a coffee shop?

"Jamie?"

He sighed, leaving his hiding place (he'd been standing behind a thin, wooden beam which did nothing to obscure his identity) and approaching her on unsteady feet.

"I wasn't trying to do that jump scare thing again, okay?" Her twin brother prefaced, nervously pulling his sunglasses off. "I've been following you for a few blocks because, well, I saw you leaving the club with Keeley and I didn't wanna bother her."

Ada frowned. She knew that her best friend had no problems with Jamie. There was never any grudge there, not even after the breakup. Why was he so afraid of being a nuisance? And why was he so jittery?

"You wouldn't have bothered anyone." She gently scoffed, squeezing his shoulder. "Why didn't you just text me, Gemma Collins?"

He ignored the nickname, immediately wrapping his arms around her – like he couldn't live without the embrace. "Amy flushed me phone down the toilet after I cheated on her." His words were muffled as he burrowed his head in her shoulder.

    The desperation in his grip worried her, but Ada was trying to keep things light. She knew this was because of what happened this morning, what she saw on tv. Her brother clearly had a lot going on.

"Oh." She rubbed his back. "Well, hey, you could've--"

"I didn't want to go all the way to get a new one. I just wanted to talk to you." Jamie swallowed thickly, slowly pulling away from her. "I didn't know where else to go."

"What?"

"Pep won't take me back."

Ada slowly nodded, setting her tea back on the counter. The barista had gone into the backroom, and the only other people here were an elderly couple sat by the window. The lack of activity was the reason she always came here on her lunch breaks, usually accompanied by Keeley Jones.

"Yeah, I saw that--"

"And me agent. He said I was like a son to him, and then he screwed me over."

Jamie had initially planned on visiting his sister's house later in the day, like he normally did when in town. Show up at her doorstep unannounced, annoy her for a bit, maybe spend the night. But after the meeting with his management team, after being told that he was too much of a liability and that nobody wanted him and that he was like a dead son, all he wanted was to talk to someone that cared about him. Someone that loved him.

(Nobody loved him more than Ada.)

"What are you talking about?" She could see nothing but pain and insecurity in his eyes, it all made her heart hurt.

He didn't seem to hear her. "And then me manager, she said I have to do a reality show in Ibiza because of the contract I signed--"

Her blood ran cold.

"What?"

"I have nobody but you."

Ada felt her jaw quiver in both sorrow and rage; two emotions mixed together so vigorously that not even Picasso's hybrid colours could compare. She hated the little cracks in her brother's voice and how he stood before her like a child awaiting his scolding. No doubt he thought she would bring up his bad decisions, tell him that leaving Man City was the dumbest thing he could've done.

But he didn't need tough love now. He just needed love. She knew that better than anyone, knew him better than anyone.

Ada grabbed his face in her hands. Jamie immediately leaned into the familiar touch.

"Hey, you have me, okay? Always." She gently assured him before asking what needed to be asked. "Now, what did you say about the contract?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you say?" She repeated patiently.

"What did you say?" London Abara teased about an hour or so later, gaze firmly planted on the fine print.

Ada rolled her eyes. "I said thanks for doing this."

"You don't have to thank her," Keeley smiled for her place on the couch, watching as Ada paced by the dining room table where London was sat. "She's doing this because you're her friend."

"Whatever." The manager mumbled distractedly, jotting something down.

Ada had no idea what she was doing, and didn't bother asking for it to be explained. All she wanted was for this to be solved.

"What is it with you Tartts and contracts?" London had to wonder, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at Jamie's signature. "I'm gonna need him to do a few things here."

Ada ran a hand through her hair. "He's sleeping upstairs. Said he hasn't properly slept in a while." She chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to think of how they could wrap this up without him. Her mind briefly drifted to Ted's divorce papers, and to the one thing she learned about legal documents. "Just tell me what you need him to do, and I'll fax the papers over once he's done it."

    London paused before slowly turning around in her chair, exchanging a vaguely amused look with Keeley.

   "Fax?" The blonde asked.

   "Your old man teach you what that is?"

    Ada shifted defensively. "It's not, like, a fucking dad thing. Anyone can teach you what a fax machine is!"

   London blinked. "I meant Roy."

    "Oh."

     Keeley shot her best friend a small smile as she stood up from the couch. "Well, we'll leave you to it then." She stepped into the dining area to give Ada a tight hug. "Tell me how he is, yeah?"

   "Yeah." Ada mumbled, squeezing her even tighter. If anyone understood her relationship with her brother, it was Keeley. The girl had been there for so much. "Sorry for ruining your lunch plans."

   "You didn't." London shrugged, placing one last sticky note for Jamie to read. Or, rather, for Ada to read and explain to Jamie. "We were just hanging out."

   "Yeah." Keeley grinned, kissing Ada's cheek before stepping back. "Don't worry about that. Also, I'll let Rebecca know that you'll be taking the rest of the day off."

   "Tell her I'll make up for it." Ada smiled cheekily, not caring that the amusement didn't meet her eyes.

   "And don't fax me, neither of us has the machine for that." London reminded her. "Just email me. And don't sign off with smell you later, okay? My old law school professor will be CC'd."

    "I don't even know what that is."

     The two women could only roll their eyes, Keeley with a fondness and London with a familiar irritation, as they headed for the front door.

    Ada went upstairs after seeing them out, and wasn't at all surprised to find Jamie awake. His eyes were open and firmly planted on the ceiling of her guest bedroom.

   "You're up."

   "Hard to sleep with him staring at me." He huffed, pointing to the poster of a smouldering Liam Gallagher. "Fuck's he doing up there?"

   His sister laughed, walking closer to the bed. He scooted over to make room for her, and rested his head on her stomach once she propped herself up on the headboard.

   "Phoebe was staying here for a bit," She explained to him, running a hand through his hair. "Figured I could convert her, you know? Tell her that Liam Gallagher was the only thing keeping the monsters away at night. Thought it would make her a fan."

    Jamie snorted.

     They sat in a comfortable silence for a while. It reminded Jamie of when they were younger; how he would climb into Ada's bed after watching a scary movie, with nothing but a flashlight and purple skittles to keep them occupied as they silently hid under her sheets. Or how they would quietly sit in the garden of their council home, right under the crown of the lemon tree, after playing a rather violent game of one-on-one football.

    His life had been a violent game recently, one that had his head pounding and eyes stinging. He greatly appreciated this respite.

   "I wanted it, you know." Jamie suddenly mumbled, rupturing the quiet. "Man City. I really wanted it."

    Ada didn't doubt that. Didn't doubt that his loyalty to their home team ran deep. That he genuinely wanted to make their city proud. But, after talking to Sharon about subconscious intentions and the nature of choice, Ada felt like she could offer him a small nut of wisdom.

   "Maybe you didn't get what you wanted because you knew you deserved more than that." She told him gently.

   Jamie shook his head. "So, what, I sabotaged me entire career because I thought a reality show was what I needed?"

    "Hey," Ada pulled at his ear, eyes still on the ceiling as she spoke. "You know I'm not talking about televised Jacuzzi sex, okay?"

   She was talking about Richmond, the team that took care of him even when he wasn't worth it. The team that embraced him not after he scored all those goals, but after he opened up to them. The men that guarded his secrets (not a single media outlet caught wind of Jamie Tartt's turbulent relationship with his father, not even after he spoke ill of them on live television) and the coaches that saw his potential.

   They were a family.

  Jamie just had to embrace it.

   "They won't take me back," He shook his head. "No team will take on a prick that leaves."

   "So become a prick that stays." Ada glanced down at him. Jaime was already staring up at her, brows furrowed and ears perked, like he was waiting for her to recount the secret to the universe. Unfortunately, Ada had no answers. Only questions. "Why did you leave Man City? Be honest with me."

    He gave her a look. One that told her everything she needed to know.

    (Why else, if not to simply anger James Tartt? To get back at him for what happened last season, after Jamie made that winning assist? To get at him for everything that came before that, too.)

   "Fuck, Jamie." She sighed tiredly. It felt like five decades had been added to her meagre twenty three years. Ada knew she should've expected that answer, should've guessed the reason, but maybe she refused to believe what she knew to be true. Refused to accept the reality of things. "You ever notice how everything we do goes back to him?"

    "What?"

    "Like," She clenched her jaw. "To make him happy or to spite him. Those are the only reasons we ever do anything."

    Cutting her hair so that he would respect her. Growing it out to thwart him. Playing football so that he would love her like a son. Blindly signing a modelling contract to rub it in his face that she was a daughter. Trying to rip that Roy Kent poster from her wall because she hated it, yes, but also because she knew James wanted it back. And purposely failing to ensure he never got it.

   She didn't even know she was doing any of that.

   The subconscious drive, Sharon had called it. It was when you did something for a reason so deep rooted that not even your conscious mind could access the intention. Like why Ada chose to sober up. Or why she still refused to become a permanent coach. Or why she'd momentarily struggled to tell Roy that she loved him.

   "I mean," Ada sharply inhaled. "He's the reason we are the way we are. Why we're absolute cocks."

   Jamie swallowed, adjusting himself so that they were now sat next to each other. Side by side, like how they stood in line when being picked for teams in PE (always the same team). Like when they presented their projects at school (always the same grade, it didn't matter that Ada did much better). Like when they were being reprimanded (always together, they refused to not shared the blame).

     "Fair, innit? We're the reason he is the way he is."

    "Fuck that." Ada scoffed. Her eyes stung as she turned to face him. She'd used that same exact excuse before, told herself that it was okay for her father to be shitty because he never asked to be one. But Georgie didn't ask to be a mother either. And the twins never asked for anything.

   "It wasn't our fault that we were fucking born, Jamie. Okay? We just wanted to be loved. That was all we ever did wrong, be his children."

    Jamie frowned.

    "I mean, our entire fucking lives, we just wanted his attention. And what good did that do us? What good did it do you?"

   Ada supposed she was somewhat lucky that all her attempts at gaining her father's approval had failed. Her brother was proof of that. He was an example of what James Tartt's recognition did to you.

   But she was going to make sure that the aftermath of that mean recognition wasn't permanent.

    She didn't want Jamie to hate football. Not even when she was jealous did she want him to lose it; that love, that spark, that passion. There was nothing like it. And maybe it was just a game to some people, but it was more than that to them. It was who they were. It was their entire fucking world.

   "Go back to Richmond." She told him, hurriedly speaking before he could argue again. "Do this for yourself. No other reason, okay? You want this, Jamie. So you fucking do it."

    Jamie thought she sounded like their mother then. That she sounded grown up and smart, even more than she usually did. He wanted to say something back, but he was genuinely exhausted and couldn't even conjure up the words to form a sentence.

   Ada noticed.

   "Sleep for a bit, okay?" She rubbed his shoulder before standing up. "We'll go out later."

    "Where?" Jamie mumbled, watching as his sister lingered by the doorway. She was obviously contemplating whether or not she should tell him the truth.

   "We'll talk to the only person who can do something about it." Ada smiled at him. "I'm not giving up on you, you prick."

    (He felt lighter than he had in weeks, and felt stupid for not realising that the solution to all his problems was here. In this city, in this town. Not Richmond or Ted Lasso, but the girl that carried half his soul in her body.)

    "Cheers."

     "Yeah."

✸

   "Well, we lost!" Roy sighed as he walked into his girlfriend's house, a bag full of groceries in one hand and a cheap trophy in the other. "Would've been closer, but one of the goals got disallowed because apparently kids under nine years old aren't allowed to do headers yet." He set the bag down on the kitchen counter and moved towards the fridge. "Fucking brain development."

     He waited for a response, something witty and unexpected that he could roll his eyes at, but nothing ever came. He slowly shut the refrigerator door and checked the time on his watch.

   She should've been home from work.

   "Ada?" When that garnered no answer, he decided to head upstairs and check her room.

    "Fit." She was mumbling under her breath, flicking through a weighty stack of photographs. "Fit. Fit."

   Roy leaned against the doorway, watching in amusement. She was lying on her stomach in the middle of the king sized bed, kicking her feet along to whatever song was playing through her headphones. Her hair was loosely thrown up, her glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose, and she was wearing the clothes she reserved for napping; his gray shirt and a pair of baby pink shorts.

   But she wasn't napping.

   In fact, Ada looked to be very awake.

    He pushed off the doorway and moved to kneel in front of the bed, patiently waiting for her to notice him. And when her eyes slowly began to drift over, Roy leaned in and kissed her.

    "You having a wank?" He mumbled against her mouth, one hand cupping her cheek and the other sliding her headphones off to ensure she heard him.

    Ada laughed and started peppering kisses all over his face; his cheeks and his nose and his forehead and his scratchy chin. "You missed that show." She grinned. "Hit me fucking peak twenty minutes ago."

    Roy snorted and picked up the photos she'd been going through, all of them pictures of herself. He'd made a joke a few weeks ago that Tartts only ever jerked off to videos of themselves talking or photos of themselves posing.

    "Oh, yeah?" He asked. "Then what else would you be doing with these?"

     "Wouldn't you like to know." She smirked, snatching the pictures back. Her smile faltered slightly as she glanced down at them. "Do you think I should cut me hair again?"

    Roy blinked. Was this one of the women tests? The one where either answer would be wrong and offensive; would no mean that she was ugly before and would yes mean that she was ugly now?

    "Uh-- here." He shoved the little trophy in her hands. "From Phoebe. The team fucking lost but someone's mum still bought them trophies."

   "That's cute." Ada smiled, assessing the plastic award. The gold paint was chipping off and the plastic felt incredibly cheap, but she loved it nonetheless. Because inscribed on the little plate at the trophy's base were the words BEST HEART.

   "Don't know what fucking heart has to do with football, but, there you go."

   "It has everything to do with football." She shot him a look before looking down at it once more. "I love it. Best award I've ever received."

    He scrunched his nose and leaned down to press a soft kiss on her forehead.

   "So that's it then?" She asked when he pulled away. "Season's over?"

   "Yeah."

   "What're you gonna do now?"

    He shrugged. "Make dinner."

    Ada squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, as if pained. "God, you're just like Jamie." She got off the bed rather abruptly and made for the ensuite bathroom. "But at least he's fucking trying."

     Roy stared at the empty bed wide eyed. "What the fuck just happened?" He glanced towards the bathroom when he heard the sink start running.

    Ada had her head under the tap, glasses discarded on the counter. The water was drenching her hair and was soaking through the shirt she had on. She was pulling the thing off when her boyfriend entered the bathroom.

   "Oi," He shook his head, glancing down at chest before meeting eyes with her. "What's happening right now?"

    "Jamie's sleeping in the guest room." She opened and closed many a drawer, turning to face him once she located the scissors. "He's so fucking lost, Roy."

    "He's here right now?"

      Ada ignored him. "And I think we're all lost, you know? Like, even if we think we're not." She ran a hand through her wet hair. "I love you. I love you a lot so I'm going to tell you what I told the other idiot I love; leaving football is the dumbest thing you can do."

    He looked at her like she was crazy. "I can't just force little girls to play during the off season--"

    "I'm talking about the pundit gig! The one you obviously want to do but refuse to accept without someone making you."

    Roy shook his head in denial.

    "Hey, I get it! You're scared that if you do this, then there's a chance you can lose it."

   Lose it the way he lost his position on the team. The way he lost his passion. It was how Ada felt when Rebecca offered her the coaching job – it was why she still refused to make her position permanent. It was why Roy was sticking to what was safe; why he chose to coach his niece's football squad and why he loved cooking dinner for someone whose palette was incredibly immature.

     Subconscious drive.

    "No," He stubbornly grit out. "I refuse to take that job because--"

    "I know, I know, it's fucking stupid. They're knobs sitting there on their high chairs and judging the people doing the actual work. They talk about tactics and sticking to plays, but forget how much instinct can hinder a plan. They forget about adrenaline." She pressed a finger to his chest. "But you know all about it. You only just retired. Don't do what I did, okay? Please. Don't waste time away from the game. It's who you fucking are, Roy."

    "Thought you liked Just Roy."

     Ada sighed, setting the scissors down and cupping his face in her hands. She hated that look of insecurity in his eyes, like he thought she was confessing to something. Like she was about to break his heart when all she wanted to do was heal its bruising.

  "I love Just Roy." Ada kissed him. "I love him so much." She kissed him again. "But, at this point in your life, you hate being him. And you can tell me that you don't, but I see it. And I don't blame you, okay? You miss the game. Being around it on a professional fucking level. It means everything to you."

    (Not everything, He thought.)

     "Roy, I told Jamie to fight for Richmond because it's what he wants." She rested her forehead against his own, finger the curls at the back of his head. "And I'm telling you to do this because it's what you want. And I should've brought it up sooner, because it was so fucking obvious, but maybe I'm the one that's scared--"

    Roy kissed her before she could say anything else. Kissed her the way he wanted to kiss her that morning, before Lasso started bellowing like a drunkard. It was soft, but eager. Hot, but gentle. He felt her smile against his mouth, like she was happy or something.

Roy liked it when Ada was happy.

He kept one hand on her naked waist, rubbing at the tanned flesh with his thumb, and moved the other hand towards the marble counter by the sink.

    Ada couldn't hear the snipping over the sound of her heart beating and her blood rushing, but her eyes fluttered open when she felt hair land on her shoulder. She glanced at the fallen lock of wheat blonde before looking up at her boyfriend.

    There was a knowing look in his eyes. A look of understanding. All this talk of fear and identity and her brother being lost – it was as if Ada Tartt could perfectly translate everyone's thoughts and could perfectly word their every desire, but never knew what to do with any of her own.

   "This is what you want."

     Ada bit her lip and simply watched him for a moment. And then she was slowly running a finger down his face. Starting at his forehead and going down the slope of his nose and over the pink of his mouth. Just to make sure he was real, this man. Her new best friend.

   He kissed the warm pad of her finger, as if to assure her that he was.

    "It's what I want." The girl smiled, laughing wetly when he began nudging her towards the bath. She hesitantly sat on the edge of the tub, and he readily kneeled in front of her. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? Because I can ring up Isaac's mum and she'll get here in, like, five minutes."

   "I used to cut my sister's hair all the time, alright?" He rolled his eyes. "Just fucking sit still and don't start laughing for no reason."

    Her heart warmed at that, Ada didn't know why. Maybe because, despite having met his sister, it was easy to forget that he was an older sibling, too. And maybe because she loved that he knew things about her; like the fact she was definitely going to start laughing at some point.

    "Go on, then." Ada murmured, her eyes shining. But they widened in absolute horror when he grabbed one of his own curls and snipped it off. "No!"

    Roy shot her a look. "I'm taking that job, Ada. I can't go on live fucking television looking like a fucking lumberjack."

   She frowned brokenly. "But we loved doing the lumberjack thing."

    His neck flushed a deep red. "Yeah, but I'm not gonna be playing fucking lumberjack with Chris Kamara, am I?"

    "God, you better not."

     God, he loved her.

     Roy cupped her cheek with his free hand, lightly caressing the apple of her cheek. Her freckles were barely visible in the winter, but she was still Ada. Her eyes were still that beautiful shade of brown, like pools of rum matured in oak barrels. Her mouth was still pink and pert. Her smile, the one she was shooting him right now, was still a childish thing.

    "I like you so much."

      He dropped his hand, voice bland in an effort to disguise his offence. "Fuck me, cut a bit of hair off and it goes from love to like."

    "Like's more important." She softly reassured him, leaning forward to wrap her arms around his neck. "I like you a lot, Roy Kent."

    "You're not too bad, Tartt."

     If not too bad was how one would describe the woman they loved. The woman they'd grow their hair out for. The woman they'd then cut it short for, so that she wouldn't feel alone in her change. The woman for whom they'd spend ten minutes selecting a plastic fucking trophy.

   "You know," She suddenly whispered, as if shamefully confessing to sin in a church. "When I was in that room, twenty minutes ago, all alone, I was thinking about you."

     Roy stiffened.

      Ada gently tugged at his hair. "Wanna play one more time? Before you get rid of it? I'll even let you get on t--" A screech escaped her mouth as he threw her over his shoulder, and she giggled as he kissed and nipped at the back of her thigh on his way to the bedroom.

    Down the hall, Jamie was practically shoving the ends of his allocated pillow into either ear, the cotton all but rubbing against his eardrums.

    He exchanged a pained look with Liam Gallagher.

  

  

   

   

   

    

✸

   A little green soldier slammed against a wooden bar top, and Ted Lasso was ambushed.

   He smiled a small smile as he stared at the figurine, one of the many gifted to him by his son and one of the few he'd gifted to others. The coach then glanced to his left, nodding at the Tartt siblings.

   "It's like I'm seeing double." He lightly joked, winking at Ada when he noticed her chopped hair. It was noticeably shorter than it was a few hours ago, but still longer than when he first met her.

    "I named him Ted." Jamie spoke, gesturing to the soldier. "After Ted Danson."

    "All time great." He nodded appreciatively. "You know from Cheers to Curb to The Good Place. What a career. I mean he's basically the male version of Julia Louis-Dreyfus."

    Jamie turned to his sister in confusion.

   "The only hot person on Seinfeld." She reminded him.

    "Oh," He turned to face Ted. "And she's like the female version of Dave Grohl."

    Ada squeezed her eyes shut.

    "Um, yeah. All three of them got that Midas touch, don't they?" The American mused, taking a sip of his water before gesturing to the stools on either side of him. "Why don't y'all take a seat?"

    Ada pat her brother on the back before taking the empty chair on Ted's right. "Sorry I left work without telling you." She sighed, snagging a chip from his plate. "I was babysitting."

    Ted shot her a fond grin, pushing his plate so that it sat between them. "You didn't miss anything, Soufflé. Boys were too sick to practice. They got the glitter bug."

    She smiled rather sheepishly.

    The coach then turned to face the other Tartt, who was now fiddling with the toy he brought with him. "How ya been, Jamie?"

   "Awesome."

   "Yeah?"

   "The best," Jamie nodded firmly before glancing over at his sister. There was a gentle look in her eyes, the eyes that they shared. She was silently urging him to be honest. "Pretty good. Um, okay. A little depressed. Yeah." He pursed his lips. "It's all shit, Ted."

    Ted put his pint down, blinking rapidly as he tried to make sense of the winding emotional journey. "That's a real roller coaster there. Glad I was tall enough to join you on that ride. Anything I can help you with?"

    It was important to note that Ted already knew where this was going. Had known even before he looked into Ada Tartt's eyes and saw hidden desperation and trepidation. It was the soldier that gave it away; the soldier Ted had given Jamie after the match against Man City. After witnessing that scene with their father.

    The boy was looking for a home, and whilst he found one in his sister, he clearly thought Ted could help him establish it.

   (The question was whether or not Ted Lasso was willing to jeopardise other people's sanctuary in order to do that. People like Sam and O'Brien and Nate, to name a few, who had lived in torment because of Jamie Tartt.)

    "Uh," Jamie placed his elbows on the wooden bar, shoulders slumping slightly as he faced his former coach. "Ades is working for you now."

    "Right."

    "And I was just wondering, like, what the chances were of me coming back to play for you at Richmond."

    "Smith's good," Ada quickly interjected, hating the look on both their faces; Jamie looked like he was awaiting rejection and Ted looked like he dreaded giving it to him. "Like, proper good, yeah? But there's a reason we've tied eight consecutive matches. He's not a forward."

    Ted sighed, fiddling with his fork. "You're right, he ain't. But he's a team player." He looked over at Jamie. "You burned a lot of bridges over there."

    "Look, Coach, I need Richmond."

    And he wanted it, too. Ada knew that was more important. Because whilst needing something made you desperate for it, wanting something made you rational in your quest to obtain it.

   "And Richmond needs you." Mae suddenly declared as she set a fresh pint in front of Jamie.

   (The woman war firm in her belief, and she wasn't the only one. It was all anyone could talk about today, after it was confirmed that Man City was letting go of their notoriously brash striker.

   "Two Tartts and Richmond would be undefeated," They'd all echoed it like a mantra.)

    "Well," Ada sighed. "What I need is for the little shit to eat. A full plate, please, Mae. And don't let the food touch. He's picky."

    Ted smiled to himself.

    "Anything for you, Ada? Or are you just going to sit there and be cheeky?" Mae sighed.

   The girl just grinned.

    "Cheers." Jamie said to the woman as she rolled her eyes at his sister. He didn't know if he was thanking her for the pint or for her words or for taking his very particular food order without complaint, but he was feeling incredibly appreciative. "And, uh, Mae, would you be a darling and ask those lads at the end of the bar to stop staring at us, please?"

     Ada and Ted followed his line of sight, simultaneously huffing in amusement when they saw Paul, Jeremy, and Baz looking incredibly starstruck. It was as if they'd just won the lottery.

     "It's Jamie fucking Tartt!" Jeremy hissed to his friends. He was a huge fan of Richmond's former striker, and the mere prospect of him returning caused his bones to hum. He was the reason they were relegated, and he'd be the reason they got promoted. Jeremy just knew it.

    "Ada Tartt cut her hair again!" Baz hissed back.

    Paul nodded. "They're both looking incredibly healthy, I'm glad."

   "Oi, you three, fuck off." Mae sternly ordered, watching as the trio of goons stuttered their apologies and clumsily turned to face the front of the room. Once that was seen to, she gave the Jamie a wink and marched back into the kitchen.

    "Old people are so wise," He shook his head. "They're like tall Yodas. No wonder you're dating one, Ada."

    "Trust me, there's nothing small and Yoda-like about me boyfriend." She scoffed, munching on another chip. She paused once she heard her words back, glancing up to see Ted and Jamie staring at her incredulously. They were both visibly disturbed. "Oh, you meant old."

     Ted cleared his throat, reaching for a glass of chilled water and sitting in front of Ada. "Cheers," He said, raising his pint and waiting for the Tartt siblings to clink their drinks with his.

     It was after they all took a gulp of their beverages that he finally found the courage to ask what he wanted to ask. "Jamie, let me ask you something. Why'd you do that reality show?"

     Ada stiffened.

     "Y'know, you were getting good minutes up at City."

      Jamie sniffed. "I don't know, just thought it'd be fun. Help boost me brand." He glanced over at Ted, and the soft look in the older man's eyes pained him for some reason. They were kind eyes, ones that promised not to judge even if they didn't understand.

   Jamie didn't know many men with eyes like that.

    "Hey," Ada gently called out to her brother. "If you give up football now, what are you gonna give up next?"

     (If you lie about why you did it, what else will you lie about? If you pretend to be above simple human emotion, how can you expect anyone to help you out? If you refuse to explain the reason behind your actions and why you are the way you are, then how can anyone understand?)

     Jamie gave her a small nod before turning back to a patient Ted – always patient, it was so strange. "Did it to piss off me dad," He confessed. "He was just on me after every match. How I played, how many minutes I played, how I sat on the bench when I didn't play. Just drove me fucking mad. He can be a bit. . ."

    "Yeah." Ted quietly sympathised. He was thinking back to what he saw that day. How James Tartt was red in the face, drunk on rage and disappointment and something bottled. How he was yelling at his children like they'd committed the most heinous crime, when all they did was enjoy a game. How Ada had protected her brother from getting hit by a boot, how Jamie blocked her view of Ted to ensure her pride remained intact.

     "Dads are a complicated thing." Ada mumbled.

     "Sure are." Ted nodded. "But, you know, I've noticed that sometimes having a tough dad is exactly what drives some people to become great at what they do. You know, I hear Bono's father was a real piece of work."

   "Yeah, well, Lucifer had a tough dad, too. He turned out to be a right prick." Ada snorted, head bowed. "Those greats with asshole fathers? They became great to spite them. Bet Bono would trade all his Grammys for a good day with his dad."

    Ted raised a soft brow.

     Jamie caught his expression, and couldn't help but wonder if it was plain sympathy or if he genuinely understood. "What about you? Was your old man anything like that?"

    Ada tilted her head curiously.

    It felt a bit weird, having both these lost children eye him with so much wonder. And it was sad, that they were looking to him as an example; like they thought if he had a shit father and turned out alright, then maybe they could, too.

    "No." Ted gently answered. "No, my father was a lot harder on himself than he ever was on me."

    "You're lucky," Jamie sighed.

      Ada rested her chin on her fist.

   Ted shrugged.

(The man didn't necessarily feel lucky, but he supposed that, in some twisted way, it was better to have a father leave because he hated himself than to have a father leave because he couldn't bare to be your father. James Tartt tolerated his children for what they had, not who they were. Ted's dad, well, he loved his son. But in the end, that still wasn't enough to get him through.)

      "So, what do you say then, Coach?" The ace without a deck had to ask. There was no point in further prolonging this conversation. In pushing away the inevitable.

    "Jamie, you're an amazing player." Ted hesitated, shooting him a sad smile. "But I don't think it's a good idea."

     And despite being used to rejection, Jamie Tartt was not yet immune to its sting. He couldn't play it off the way he was wont to do, and couldn't look to his sister to make everything okay. This was his doing, he knew that.

    "Yeah." He mumbled, fiddling with the soldier like a child but trying to sound mature.

     Ted bit back a frown, his eyes then darting over to Ada. She was already looking at him, and there was a look of understanding on her face. She didn't want him to think that she was mad, or that her obvious bias would lead to contempt. This man was her boss, and more than that, he was a dear friend trying to do his job – trying to do right by his team.

Ada knew that he'd been thinking of them when making his decision. Knew that he cared about her brother, but that he cared about his players just as much. That he was like a father who loved all his children equally. And if anyone was going to respect a patriarchal figure's refusal pick a favourite, then it would definitely be Ada.

She slid her glass of water along the wooden bar top, and gently nudged his pint. To reassure him that they were good. That she would always respect him, even if she didn't agree. That she appreciated the fact that he listened. And that he cared.

To Ada, and even to Jamie, that was more than enough.

Across the bar, Baz was setting up what would come to be his second viral tweet (and what would become a catalyst for tomorrow's tension filled training session).

"Right," He grinned excitedly, handing his phone over to Jeremy. "Get one where it looks like they're in my hand -- oh, wait for Ada Tartt to put her drink down!"

Paul snapped his fingers as soon she set her glass back on the bar. Baz raised his cupped hand. Jeremy ensured that all three were in the shot before snapping the photo.

It was that same photo that Colin Hughes stared at in the locker room come morning. Bumbercatch, Zoreaux, and Isaac quickly huddled up behind him when they noticed his odd expression; it wasn't betrayed, per se, but bordering on it.

"Nah," Isaac shook his head. "Ada's always out with Lasso. And Jamie's her brother. So he's with them. Normal, innit?"

"What, the day that Tartt's booted from Man City?" Bumbercatch frowned.

The captain paused as the realisation struck him. "Man, that's some bullshit!"

"Bloody Hell." Colin sighed.

Sam, ever the morning person, approached the group with a cheery grin on his face. "What are you all fussing over? Did somebody else get glitter bombed today?"

"Worse." Colin frowned, handing his device over to the young Nigerian. "Looks like Jamie's coming back to Richmond."

Dani Rojas perked up from his place on the bench, perhaps the only person on the team eager to have Jamie back. Not only would it mean having an equally competent striker with him on the pitch, but Jamie had almost been his friend. They only played one game together, and it had been a practice drill consisting of Dani and the Tartt siblings kicking at goal posts, but he liked to think it cemented some sort of friendship – or, at the very least, laid the foundation for one.

He quickly made his way towards his teammates, looking at the photo from over Sam's shoulder. "Ha! It looks like they're sitting on his hand!" He then zoomed in. "Look, Ada cut her hair again!"

That seemed to momentarily pull the rainy cloud from over their heads. Colin quickly snatched his phone back. Isaac leaned in to see. Bumbercatch pushed his head between the two of them, hoping to catch a glimpse.

"Lovely." Zoreaux nodded.

✸

"Somebody order training extra spicy today?" Beard squinted, watching as the team played extra aggressively. Their kicks were harsh, their stops were blunt, and they were running as if chasing an enemy rather than a ball.

Ted nodded in agreement, adjusting his visor. "Yeah, it's got that Nando's peri-peri sauce on it, huh?"

"Could go for a chicken." Ada sighed.

Seeing as she'd impulsively planned on taking Jamie out to Mae's last night, Ada had let Roy know early on (during their second round, actually) that there was no need for him to make that butterflied dinner. Not when she wouldn't be back until really late, and not when he needed to go home and properly rest before his first day as a pundit.

She could've asked him to make it a lunch thing instead, but her boyfriend clearly didn't want to be there when Jamie woke up from his nap. Why force him to stay when he didn't want to?

(They'd fucked three times. He told her he loved her. He cut her hair and then cut his own. She shaved his beard with a mournful frown. He told her he liked her. She said he was okay. And then he left as soon as he heard Jamie go into the bathroom.)

"How come every time I look back there it's like she's getting closer and closer?" Ted suddenly hissed, shifting on his feet.

The three assistant coaches subtly glanced behind them, quickly spotting Doctor Sharon sitting in the stands. She had a notebook out and appeared to be watching the brutish players rather intently.

"I like her." Ada admitted.

"Hmm." Beard shrugged.

Nate turned back around, but forgot to voice his own opinion. All he could do was narrow his eyes at the approaching kit man.

"Thank you, Will." Ted grinned, accepting his generous offer of lemonade. The refreshments during training usually consisted of tepid water and sachets of power aid, and so this certainly felt like a treat.

"Oh, no problem!"

Ada smiled as she took her own cup, reaching out to pinch his pudgy cheek. "How are did you carry all four of these with just two hands, eh? You must be half girl."

Nate snorted, thinking she was insulting him.

"Thank you, Coach." Will blushed, clearly taking it as a compliment, before moving down the line of coaches.

Beard briefly nodded as he grabbed his own drink, and Nate snatched his before nodding to the side – clearly telling Will to get lost.

"Maybe it's an optical illusion induced by your mistrust of her profession?" Beard mumbled when Ted kept glancing over his shoulder in paranoia.

"Metaphor, huh?"

"He loves those." Ada hummed, eyes firmly planted on the pitch as she sipped at her lemonade.

"You cut your hair after she got here." Beard pointed out.

"Metaphor?" Nate guessed.

"Bingo."

She rolled her eyes and went to deny the correlation between those two events, the therapist's arrival and her decision to chop off her hair, but was interrupted by Nate's rather dramatic spit-take.

"Is there--is there pineapple in this?" The former kit man asked incredulously.

Ada frowned stepping around Beard to approach her friend. She placed a hand on his forehead. "Are you allergic?"

"No!" He gaped, ignoring the flush in his cheeks. "Pineapple could be bad for the players!"

She gave him a weird look before moving back to her previous place, clinking her plastic cup with Ted's before taking her first sip. "I mean, pineapples are highly acidic, yeah, but no more than a fucking peach or a tomato."

Nate shook his head. "I'm with Ted. We've been overrun by incompetent outsiders."

Ada exchanged a look with Beard through her peripheral.

"I don't think I said that, did I?" Ted frowned. He then glanced over his shoulder again. "Oh, come on now. She's definitely getting closer."

"Maybe you're getting farther." Ada theorised.

Beard tilted his head. "Go back to talking about the pH scale, buddy."

She nudged him with her elbow before focusing her full attention back on the practice match.

Sam was now in possession of the ball, but he appeared to be distracted. Ada watched as his lame pass to Colin was quickly intercepted by O'Brien.

"Oh, look at that." Ted winced. "Hey, Nate, hit me two times, will you?"

"Yeah." Nate heeded, blowing his whistle twice to gain the team's attention.

"Sam! Hold up! Hey!" Ted waved, a small smile on his face as he approached the field. "Look, baby, when you make that pass, you gotta put some grass under it, alright? Make Dani chase it down like it's a loose toddler in a busy parking lot." He gave them all a quick thumbs up before moving to jog back to the sidelines.

"You think you can do better? Come here and do it then." Sam snapped in a manner that was so unlike himself. His cheeks were dusted with red as he struggled to reign in his irrational anger.

Ada and Beard exchanged a wide eyed look, simultaneously shoving their hands in their pockets and rocking on their heels.

"Oi!" Isaac warned from his centre position. "Easy, bruv."

"No, no, no, that's okay! Sam's right!" Ted assured the captain. "There ain't nothing going on out here on this field that I can do better than any of y'all." He then cheesed, hoping a pop culture reference would relieve some tension. "Unless you break into a game of finish that Jimmy Buffet lyric, because then I'll be changing your latitudes and attitudes left, right, and centre."

But that seemed to anger Sam even more. He felt as if his coach didn't care. That he was making a joke out of things. Making a joke out of him by bringing Jamie Tartt back.

Ada, from her place on the sidelines, was quick to notice the irritation building up in young Sam, and she loudly blew her whistle before he could open his mouth. Before he could say anything that his sweet heart would soon come to regret. Before he could say anything to hurt Ted. Anything that could rupture this team's beautiful dynamic.

Beard winced as the whistle rang in his ear, taking a step away from her in case she became addicted to the power. It didn't escape him that this was her first time blowing it – and they weren't even playing a game, practice or otherwise.

"Sam, inside!" She gestured towards the clubhouse.

The boy immediately did as told, no doubt wanting to get away from his head coach.

Ted didn't get the memo. "Sam, I'm just trying to help the team here."

"Bullshit." He snapped, brushing past the three assistant coaches on his way inside.

Ada watched as Ted awkwardly lingered on the pitch, clearly unsure about his next move. He glanced around, as if waiting for the answer to present itself, before eventually locking eyes with her.

What now? He silently asked.

Fuck if I know. She shrugged.

"Okay," Ted cleared his throat before skittishly approaching the sidelines. "I'm gonna see what that's all about real quick."

The three gave him encouraging nods.

He lingered again.

"You want me to come with you?" Ada guessed.

"Oh, would ya?" Ted breathed out in relief before gesturing for her to follow him. "He's not normally like this." He hurriedly informed Doctor Sharon as he and Ada walked towards the entrance.

"I blew me whistle!" The girl informed her with a wide grin.

("You said you were quiet as a young child, do you find yourself carrying that with you in some aspects of your life? Do you, for example, fear taking up space within your work environment? Perhaps it's not something you notice yourself doing. With a reputation so big, a reputation predating your career change, it's easy to forget that you're allowed to continue existing. To continue growing the same as everyone else.")

Sharon gave her a small smile and a proud nod.

"Hey, Sam! Slow down!" Ted was panting by the time she caught up with him. "Hey, you got something you wanna talk about?"

The boy sighed, slowly turning to face the two coaches.

"No."

Ted blinked. "Really? It seems like you got something on your mind, you know? Something like I'm angry about a mysterious thing so I'm gonna so some cussing now."

"It's very old Ada Tartt of you, Sam." Ada shook her head disappointedly.

"I mean, I am angry like old Ada Tartt." He admitted sheepishly, a grimace slowly making its way onto his young face. "And I did cuss and every time I do, I regret it!"

"Cause people say cuss words when they don't know the right ones to use to express themselves!" Ted nodded.

Ada frowned. Why was she constantly getting psychoanalysed?

"Come on," The American encouraged. "Talk to me."

Sam sighed. "I can't believe you're bringing Jamie back to the team."

"What?" Ted glanced over at Ada, who appeared to be just as confused.

(She, Ted, and Jamie had spent nearly three hours at Mae's last night, talking things through. Ted let him know that he never agreed to giving him back to Man City. Jamie apologised for calling him a rodeo clown on live television. Ada told them about the clowns she met at the street circus.

Along with clearing up the past, they made sure to keep the foundation stable for the future. There was no point in keeping tensions alive, not if Jamie planned on coming to games to watch his sister coach.

There was never any false hope there, though. Not once did Ted give a Jamie a sign that he'd bring him back. That would've been a cruel thing to do. So why would Sam assume such a thing? And how did he even know that Jamie and Ted met up the night before?)

"I saw the picture of you three on Twitter."

"Oh, Sam!" Ted waved a hand. "You should never believe what you see on Twitter."

"Twitter said Roy was in love with Ada and they were right." The boy pointed out.

Ada quickly interjected. "No, not Twitter, that was Will. Will's always right. Did he say that Jamie's coming back?"

"He said he was praying for it." Sam sighed.

"Aw, really?"

The Nigerain felt his eye twitch, quickly turning back to Ted. "How many locker room punch-ups have we had since Jamie's been gone?"

"None." Ted shrugged.

"None." Sam echoed. "Have we won yet? No. But we will. I believe that." He looked to Ada. "And I respect you and your family, truly. But it was hard."

"I know." She smiled sadly.

"I mean just because Jamie can score goals doesn't mean he deserves to be here!" He dropped his head low, clearly fighting back tears. "No teammate has ever made me feel as bad about myself as Jamie did."

Ted spoke up before the boy could say anything else, noticing how Ada's shoulders slumped. No doubt this was difficult to hear; Jamie was her little brother. A twin, yes, born mere minutes before her, but a little brother nonetheless. One that she hated to perceive in any other way.

(The two of them had wasted enough time fighting over past actions. Ted wanted Jamie and Ada to always be the siblings they were last night. A brother and sister that teased each other and snagged food from each other's plates and fought over who had the better hair.)

"Sam, I understand your anger towards him--"

"It's not him." He interrupted his coach. "I'm mad at you. You didn't even talk to us about it."

"Honestly, Sam, I didn't think there was anything to talk about! I told Jamie it wasn't gonna happen."

"Oh." Sam blinked. He then frowned, glancing over at a mildly amused Ada. "I'm sorry."

She gently shook her head, gesturing to Ted with her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Coach." He quickly apologised to the American. "Uh, did everyone see me when I stomped off--"

"No, no one saw that -- uh, yeah! Everyone saw that, man, come on! You had Soufflé blowing her damn whistle!"

"I'm so sorry." He said again, genuinely apologetic. These were two people that he admired and respected, but the mere idea of things going back to the way they used to be had terrified him. Had turned him into someone he wasn't.

"It's okay, Sam." Ted assured him, wrapping an around Ada and pulling her close. "We were recently talking about how you're a leader on this team. I want you to speak your mind."

"Maybe with less sass, though." Ada teasingly hummed. "Think you're half girl or something."

Sam blushed. "Thank you." He glanced between the two of them before eventually settling on Ted. "You know, my father says every time he sees you on tv, he's very happy that I'm here. That I'm in safe hands with you."

Ada swallowed thickly.

"Well, that means a lot." Ted nodded, overwhelmed. The responsibility was great, and so, too, was the honour. "I appreciate that."

Sam smiled.

"You know I still gotta make you run a bunch of laps, though, right?"

"Oh, yes!" He quickly nodded, clasping hands together in a pleading gesture. "I was hoping you would."

Ted watched him run back out towards the pitch. He couldn't describe the feeling coursing through him. This gut wrenching feeling that came with realising how unjust the world could be.

Here was Sam, so kind and good. Bred in a home that instilled those very qualities. A home that used those morals and ethics as pillars to prop up their roof and create a loving shelter.

And in a world full of Sam Obisanyas there were Jamie Tartts. The bullies who were bullied by the people meant to protect them. Jamie was trying to change. He was bred in a house that tried to be good. A house that had a young mother at its head, using one hand to prop up their thatched roof and using the other to work and provide for two children.

"He has a good dad."

Ted glanced away from the door, looking to Ada. "Yeah, pal. It sure do sound that way, don't it?"

He wanted to say something else, he didn't know what. Maybe ask more about how Jamie was doing. She already told him that they spent last night binge watching Lust Conquers All (Ada always wanted to know how reality television worked behind the scenes, and Jamie was happy that he could use his bad career decision for good – what could be more good than entertaining his sister?), but Ted wanted to know more.

The look in her eyes right now pained him. It wasn't even sad, but accepting. Which was good, yes, but she shouldn't have to accept these cards. She should be dealt another hand.

"Hey--" Ted was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. He watched as Ada checked who was calling, and that mature yet pitiful look in her eyes quickly transformed into something much more beautiful. Something so very young and light and free.

Roy, no doubt.

She offered Ted a quick wink in parting before making towards her office, phone pressed to her cheek. "Hey, you!"

"Hey." Roy softly greeted, instantly relaxing. "Where are you?"

"At work. God, you will not believe the fucking day I've had. I blew me whistle."

"Wow, almost like a coach or something." He said blandly.

"Fuck you," She rolled her eyes, plopping down in Nate's chair – hers was currently seating a leather jacket and a satchel. She was too lazy to move either thing. "How's it going over there, then?"

Roy grit his jaw and stared at the bouquet in front of him. He plucked the card attached to the vase. "Jimmy Carragher sent me flowers. We fucking despised each other when we played and now he's sending me flowers."

"You're not fucking James Bond, Roy. They're not poisoned." He could hear the coy smirk in her voice. "Besides, you're lucky. Thirteen year old me would've killed for Jimmy Carragher to send her flowers."

"Yeah, well, he sent white orchids. You hate white orchids." He grit.

"But you love them, so I love them." Ada paused. "Wait, how the fuck does he know you like white orchids? Maybe they are poisoned."

Roy eyed the flowers wearily before turning to face the mirror again. He fiddled with his black tie, and self consciously stared at his eyebrows. The makeup artist had suggested plucking them about ten times in the last half hour.

"What do you think of my eyebrows?"

Ada blinked. Was this one of those men questions? Would he shave them off if she said she liked them? Would he grow them out exponentially if she said she hated them?

"Roy," She began, tone firm. "If you pluck a single hair from those brows, then I will break up with you, okay? The left one especially, I'm so fucking serious."

He touched his left eyebrow.

"First the curls, then the beard. Next it'll be the chest hair. If I wanted to date a girl, I would've dated Will or Sam, alright?"

"Fucking what?"

"The eyebrows stay, you gorgeous idiot. They're a staple." She spun around on Nate's chair, watching as the players entered the locker room. "Besides, since when do you care about shit like that?"

He didn't answer.

Ada frowned, slowly sitting up. "Hey, it's okay if you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous," He denied. "There's nothing scary about this. There's no defence in tv."

"Then why do you sound like you've swallowed glitter, babe?"

Again, he had no idea what she was talking about. He really wished he did. He wished he was with her all the time, that he could be present for all these weird fucking events that she loved to reference. He'd even take just having her here now, making the references to his face rather on the phone.

She always knew how to make things less tense.

Roy was tense now.

"It's just--What if, uh," He turned away from the mirror, hating the way he could see right through himself. "What if everyone thinks I'm shit?"

Ada Tartt genuinely had no idea when people started coming to her for advice. She couldn't count how many pep talks she'd given this week alone; there was Beard who'd been having problems with Jane, Colin who'd been feeling insecure about his position on the team, Isaac who was still adjusting to being captain, Dani Rojas who'd been feeling homesick, Jan Maas who was having girl problems, Richard who was having Richard problems, her prodigal brother and all that came with him, her beautiful boyfriend and his complexities.

Did these people know she was in therapy?

(It was actually just the one conversation over breakfast, but so much had been covered in those two and something hours that Ada genuinely felt like a brand new person – no wonder the footballers were running out of her office like newborn lambs.)

"Hey," Ada smiled. "It doesn't matter what people think about Roy Kent. It only matters what you think about him. And if my opinion offers any consolation, then you should know I think he's the fucking best."

He scrunched his nose.

"Ready for you, Mr. Kent." One of the producers knocked on the door, giving him a quick nod before departing.

"I gotta go." Roy said, tone so very gentle and so very grateful. A deep voice that was weightless. "Thank you."

She shook her head. "Don't thank me, just go be Roy fucking Kent. I'll be watching."

"Thought you were at work."

"Hey, eyebrows, I don't tell you how to do your job."

He aggressively rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the way the corners of his mouth tugged up.

(Oh, God, he actually loved her.)

Ada loaded up the Sky Sports streaming platform as soon as Roy hung up the phone, plugging her headphones in and patiently waiting for the broadcast to start.

As usual, it was Jeff Stelling starting things off. "What a match! Manchester United beat Chelsea one–nil in a result that drops Chelsea out of the European places and lands United in the top three for now."

As a devoted girlfriend, Ada found herself wishing the camera would just pan over to Roy already, but as a devoted football fan, she found herself quickly forgetting that he was even on the panel.

"United should've fucking lost." She mumbled, placing her whistle in her mouth so that she could fiddle with it.

"Chris, was this a case where United won the match or that Chelsea lost it?"

Chris Kamara had his answer at the ready. "United just had that extra sharpness in the final third, but I thought both teams played really well."

Ada rolled her eyes. She didn't know if it was because his answer was dispassionate (why play the role of Switzerland if your job is to be a cock?) or if she simply hated the way he complimented United.

Who the fuck likes United?

"George?"

Another eye roll, this time before the pundit even said anything. George Cartick was Richmond's former coach. A right fucking sleaze who never tried anything on with Ada for fear of Rupert, but said enough with his leering gaze and disgusting smile to let her know what he wanted.

If she could thank Rebecca Welton for anything, and there were many things, then it would be for sacking him. And for putting sweet, sweet Ted Lasso in his place.

"A real even battle. It's football at its finest."

And it was to no one's surprise that the pervert's answer was a lame one. The only upside to hearing it was that it meant Roy Kent was up next.

Ada felt like a schoolgirl, the way she perked up in her chair and the way she bit back an embarrassingly wide grin.

"Roy Kent, ex-Chelsea legend joins us."

She thought he looked so. . . Roy. Which was more than enough for her, always. That unimpressed expression and that all black suit.

"Welcome, Roy."

He grunted.

Ada laughed.

(Oh, God, she actually loved him.)

Jeff blinked, not sure what to make of the gruff sound. "Right, uh, what do you think? Did your former club play well?"

"No, I thought they played like shit." Her boyfriend bluntly responded, refusing to sugarcoat and refusing to lie. It didn't matter that his old fans were likely watching, or even his former teammates that were still in the league – Roy was here to critique, and that was what he was going to do.

"Uh, our apologies to the viewing audience. Roy Kent with some salty language." Jeff tightly smiled. And despite knowing that he would regret it, the man asked for Roy to elucidate his point. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"All right. Chelsea was shit today." He shrugged. "They were shocking. Watching them, you'd never know they were playing at home. They were too timid. They were too respectful of United. They were lucky they didn't lose by three or four or ten."

"That's harsh, Roy. United's been on a good run recently." Chris frowned.

Ada bit down on her whistle.

"Who gives a shit, Chris?" Roy scoffed. "That's no excuse to play like you're afraid of them. You could see it in their faces: abject terror. Like children waiting in line for the handsy Father Christmas." He began beating on his chest. "Have some fucking pride in your shirt or don't fucking wear it!"

Ada shook her head, grinning widely. She missed hearing him talk about football. Missed hearing him be passionate about it, about the flaws triggered by fear and the beauty of pride.

It was who he was, this game.

It was Roy Kent.

"Again. We apologise for almost every word Roy just said."

Her boyfriend sighed.

And then his eyes darted over to the camera, and he rubbed his nose.

Ada squinted.

He intentionally scratched at his left eyebrow.

She grinned.

"What's she smiling at?" Beard frowned from his desk, watching the girl through the glass door separating their offices.

"She looks adorable, doesn't she?" Ted hummed with a smile. He turned to face the three other men in the room. "Thankfully, our puppy's very much in love. Which means she will be distracted for the next twenty minutes."

Higgins tilted his head. "Why does Ada have to be distracted? I love when she's here. It brings an energy."

"And energy's important." Ted agreed. "But so is the future of this team. More specifically, the future of that girl's other half."

"Keeley?" Nate guessed.

"Jamie."

Beard turned to stare at his best friend. "I thought that was settled."

"I did, too." Ted sighed. "But then I was talking to Sam and he helped unsettle it." He couldn't help how his eyes wandered over to the little office again. To the good hearted girl smiling at her phone and playing with her whistle.

She deserved to have her brother here with her. The same brother she protected after the relegation match; Jamie, who was trying. Who put his pride aside and begged for the opportunity to prove himself.

Ada had once told him that she and her brother would both die for football. That they loved it with equal fervour. Ted had found that hard to believe, and even harder to believe after Jamie left Man City to star in a reality tv show.

But he saw it in his eyes yesterday, that desire. Not like an addict who needed their fix, no, that was desperation. This was a yearning, like an adventurer who needed a compass.

"Sam wants Jamie back?" Nate asked, finding that incredibly hard to believe.

"No, no." Ted shook his head. "Sam just reminded me that he himself has got a great dad. And not everyone has that. And isn't the idea of never give up one of them things we always talk about in sports? And shouldn't that apply to people, too?"

Nate sighed.

"Two aces is very tempting." Higgins mused. "Could be exactly what we need."

Ted and Beard exchanged a look, both of them remembering their conversation from when Dani joined the team. The talk they had when hiding out in the stands.

Three aces.

Nate raised his hand to speak. "But, it could also ruin morale to have someone in here just belittling everyone all the ti-- Will!" He hastily snapped. "Will! Not beneath the lockers. On the benches, man. Come on."

The kit man gave an apologetic nod, juggling the heavy stack of folded towels.

"What a doughnut." He tutted, before focusing back on the topic at hand. "Um, what was I saying?"

Ted could only give him a small smile before turning to his best friend. "What about you, Coach?"

"Pro? He's a great player. And, uh," He pointed over to the connecting office, where Ada's laugh was now seeping in through the gap under the door. "Cons? He's a poop in the punch bowl."

Ted clapped. "All right, Diamond Dogs, as canines, we are supposed to lack opposable digits. But right now I'm gonna ask you: thumbs up or thumbs down?"

Nate quickly gave a thumbs down. He could remember every mean joke and every shove. He never wanted to feel that small again.

Beard hesitated, but eventually gave his own thumbs down. Jamie was a great striker, but football was a team sport.

Higgins gave a thumbs up.

"Hm." Ted nodded. "Okay. Well, we know where I stand, so this is a tie."

They all slowly turned to Ada.

She felt their eyes on her and glanced up from her phone, eagerly giving them all a thumbs up to let them know that Roy was doing great.

Nate sighed.

Beard blinked. "Did that count?"

Ted grinned.

✸

He walked into her house with his hands behind his back.

Ada glanced up from her laptop screen, grinning when she met eyes with him. She took her glasses off and carelessly threw them on the coffee table. "You didn't insult United as much as I would've liked, but you made up for it with that suit."

Roy raised an eyebrow before glancing down at his outfit. "You like this."

"Very much so." She smiled. "Did you like it, then?"

"I mean, it's fucking comfortable."

She rolled her eyes, sitting up on her knees so that they were closer in height – not by much, but still. "I meant the gig, you idiot."

Roy didn't answer.

Ada frowned. "It's okay if you didn't like it. I thought you were amazing, but that means nothing if you didn't enjoy yourself." His expression remained blank. "Did you put fucking snakes in me hair when you cut it or something? Why've you turned to stone?"

(He had to work his core to keep from laughing. Why was she ruining this for him?)

"Hey," Ada placed her hands on his torso, lightly tugging at the black button up. "How bad was it?"

"May I have your phone?"

She handed it over to him without a second thought.

He took it with one hand, the other still behind his back. Roy tried not roll his eyes at the lock screen; Jamie Tartt, only a few years younger than he was now, passed out in a rather tacky garage.

"Tell me this, then. Did you keep the note from Jimmy Carragher? And if so, does it smell like him?" She grinned when that earned her a glower. "Oh, there he is."

He glanced back at the phone.

"Listen--"

Ada blinked when he suddenly started playing a thematic instrumental. Very dark, very sci-fi. And she laughed when he brought his other hand forward, showing her the fucking mask.

"You didn't wear all black just to fuck me as Darth Vader, did you?"

He didn't answer her question, giving her a small smile instead. "Felt good to be around the game."

Her heart warmed for him.

Ada loved seeing Roy happy.

"Yeah?" She asked softly, leaning forward to kiss the centre of his chest.

"Yeah." He kneeled down in front of the couch. Ada moved to sit back properly, but he stopped her. "Stay like that."

She glanced down at him from her own kneeled position, slowly cupping the back of his head. "Hey, me brother's sleeping upstairs."

"We'll be quiet," Roy assured her, pushing her baby tee up and pressing open mouth kisses to her tanned stomach.

"Roy." Ada felt her eyes flutter shut. She grabbed him by the tie before he could trail his kisses downwards. "I won't be quiet if you go there."

"Yes, you will. We'll both be quiet." He grabbed her thighs. "Make sure the baby gets his eight hours before training."

Ada laughed lightly, forcing her eyes to stay open as he rubbed a thumb over the cotton of her underwear. "I didn't even tell you that he was on the team."

"You're Ada Tartt. You get what you want."

Her blood rushed.

She leaned down and kissed him. It was messy, a clash of teeth and tongues and laughs. Ada cupped his face in her hands. "I just want you. Is that okay?"

He gave her an apologetic head shake before reaching for the mask. "Not tonight."

Ada laughed again, like she was happy or something.

Roy liked making her happy.

Upstairs, Jamie shared another look with Liam Gallagher. It was a smug look, like he did something the poster couldn't do.

He bought earplugs.

And it was because he bought those earplugs that he was able to sleep well. And that he was able to drive himself to work, making up for his past lateness by being the first person in and out of the locker room.

Ada found her brother by the tunnel.

"Hey, prick that stayed," She called over. "Get to training before I make you run laps."

"Was waiting for you."

"Scared?"

"Yeah." He answered honestly. It was like the first day of primary school, when he refused to enter any classroom unless his twin sister was holding his hand.

"They know you're a good striker, Jamie. Go be a good teammate." She lightly tapped him on the cheek. "That pass you made, the assist that got Richmond relegated. It was fucking beautiful. Go use it to get them promoted."

Jamie grit his jaw, giving her a firm nod. And then he walked out of the tunnel, making towards the centre of the snow covered pitch.

Ada made her approach a moment after he did, taking her place between Beard and Ted on the sidelines.

"Where you been, Soufflé?"

"Signing those permanent job contracts takes forever when you have two blondes telling you to read over every fucking line."

Beard blinked, forcing his eyes from one Tartt to look at the other. "No more temp?"

Ada smiled at her brother. "Everyone loves a prick that stays."

⚽: Remember to vote xoxo

⚽️: Highkey hate this chapter but, fuck it, we ball. This episode was literally just dialoguing, but more goes on in ep. three so I'm excited to get into that.

⚽️: So happy that we're FINALLY entering our happy Tartt twins era. They're my comedic little duo, I love them. Hopefully no more angst for a while, I genuinely hate writing it – hence why it took me forever to write this chapter. Like please just give me sitcom vibes and romance, that's all I want.