She's the Man / Roy Kent

Chapter fourteen.

Chapter fourteen, Carol of the Bells.
HOW THE FINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS!

    ADA DIDN'T KEEP COUNT OF HOW MANY TIMES She hit the snooze button on her alarm clock this morning, because that meant she would've had to count how many times Roy Kent told her to keep pressing it – which was impossible to track while he was pumping inside her and ravishing her throat and kissing her mouth and murmuring his praises.

   "I love you."

    She stared up at him, her smile lazy and her eyes teary from intense passion and exertion. "Yeah?"

    Roy's pupils were blown. "I love you."

    (She loved hearing it.)

    Ada cupped her back of his neck and gently pulled him closer, pressing a tender kiss to his dewy forehead once he was within reach. "I have to go." She mumbled against his flushed skin.

    "Five more minutes."

     And she listened. Because it was Roy. And because sex with Roy was like diving into the deepest parts of the ocean; she couldn't hear anything or see anything and she couldn't breathe, but there was a sick thrill that came with knowing nobody else experienced it the way she did. Her boyfriend had been with many women before her, that was obvious enough, but those women weren't her, and the Roy they'd been with wasn't her Roy – the ocean wasn't an uncharted body by any means, but tides ensured that one never swam in the same ocean twice.

    "Five more minutes." He said, again.

     And she listened, again. Because she loved how openly needy he got when his blood was rushing. And because it was morning, and morning sex was the best, especially when you knew that you wouldn't be sleeping together come nightfall (they would be spending the night in Ada's childhood bedroom and would therefore have to reign in their fervent desires – something they'd never actually done before).

     "Five more minutes," He whispered once more. "I love you. Just five more minutes. I love you."

      (He loved saying it.)

     She didn't deny him. Because she was his and he was hers and she would honestly let him do whatever he wanted. Roy was deep inside her and if he decided to breed rot into her bloodstream and taint her marrow then that was fine. And if her heart gave out from all the emotions she was feeling then that was also fine, because to die beneath the man you loved, surely, was to rise above all others.

     "Five more minutes." She whispered to him before he could climb off her, teeth catching the lobe of his ear and hands gripping onto his strong shoulders and legs hooked around his rocking hips.

     And he heeded. Because it was Ada and she only ever had to ask him once. He would do whatever she requested of him. On her, in her, with her, it didn't matter, he just wanted to be there. And it was scary, how much control she had over him and how much he cared and how quickly he would yield to her.

     "Five more minutes."

      Because it was Christmas morning and if she had to go into work today then surely she was allowed to open up her presents beforehand. Surely she could unwrap a hungry love and relish in its altared limbs and bruised lips and sharp teeth before she had to clock in.

   But five minutes soon became an hour and fashionably late soon became unjustifiably late. And as she ran down the hall towards her office for a leisure filled half day, the girl didn't take into account that the universe would be providing her with their own Christmas gift; for choosing not to wake up on time, they were granting her a seasoned, but not necessarily seasonal, wake up call.

"Morning, Doctor Fieldstone." Ada hurriedly greeted, a weighty present at her hip and a tight smile on her face as she and the older woman brushed past each other in the hallway. "You been good or bad this year?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

Ada stuttered in her step, turning to face Doctor Sharon. The woman had a pleasant expression on her face, no doubt happy that she had the next two weeks off (the team and their coaches were supposed to be back at work tomorrow), and a patient look in her eyes.

"Are you asking me if I think you're a good therapist?"

Sharon raised an eyebrow. "I'm asking if you think I've been generally good." She gestured to the notebook in her hands. "You seem to favour the word very much."

She'd been meaning to bring this up to Ada Tartt for a while – since their two hour sit down from many weeks ago, in fact. But the girl never stopped by for another chat, and never even referenced their lengthy conversation. The one time Ada had even entered her office was to drop her brother off; "Doctor Fieldstone, this is me baby brother. He's a good boy, you'll love him."

    A good boy, she'd called him. And when Sharon had asked Ada about her mother during their breakfast outing, she'd called her good, too. And Ted Lasso, she said he was good as well.

     Sharon had assumed that Ada simply didn't have a good relationship with her mother, and that she didn't know Ted Lasso that well. Good was such a simple word to describe someone you cherished. It was just one syllable. It couldn't have meant much.

    But then she called Jamie good, and Sharon knew how much the girl loved him. And mere hours before that, she saw how quickly Ada's mind worked to erase Led Tasso from memory, as if she wasn't willing to alter her mind and heart's image of him.

    Her good image of him.

     Good.

    "I genuinely don't know what you're talking about." Ada snorted, shifting the wrapped present onto her other hip. "Are you doing that thing again? Where you and I are having two different conversations? Mine's fun and yours isn't?"

   Sharon slowly shook her head, a small smile on her face. "You and Coach Lasso are close."

   "Very." She replied, no hesitation.

    The love Ada bore the man was an immense one. She considered him to be one of her favourite people, up there with her little family and her best friend and her boyfriend. Ted Lasso had done so much for her, had changed her life for the better. Changed her for the better, too. She would forever be indebted to him, for being the reason she and her brother rekindled their friendship and for forcing football back into her life and for being a true friend.

    He was good.

    The psychologist gestured to her notebook again. "You said he was good."

   Ada's face was amused. "Yeah."

   "Just good?"

   "I think good is the best thing someone can be." She shrugged, clearly not seeing the point of this conversation. But it was Christmas, so if the woman was after nonsensical small talk, then Ada was willing to provide it.

    "And the worst?" Sharon had to wonder, expression still light. It told of nothing but curious curiosity.

    Another shrug. "Erm, not good."

    Not bad, but simply not good.

    How odd that her mind would drift to the middle of the spectrum. And that she would voice her response so hesitantly. The doctor had to muse on the fact that Ada Tartt was likely talking about herself. That she acknowledged that she was loved, and therefore couldn't be a bad person, but that she was still struggling with knowing herself, and therefore felt like not good was an accurate enough summary.

    "Hmm. I personally think the worst thing a person can be is their own enemy." Sharon tilted her head, a knowing look in her eyes. "And sometimes being your own enemy can mean hiding how you truly feel in the hope that you conform to the idea of goodness."

    Ada blinked.

    Yeah, they were definitely having two completely different conversations. She truly had no clue what the woman was talking about.

    "Do I get a Christmas discount for this session or what?"

    "Happy Holidays, Coach Tartt." The woman gave her a parting smile before taking her leave.

    "What the fuck. . ." Ada mumbled, watching her go. But whilst her words were uttered quietly and under her breath, the screech she let out when turning back around was just about deafening. "Shit!"

    "Sorry!" Will yelped.

    "Were you standing there the whole time?" She panted, placing a hand on her heaving chest.

    "No?" The boy blinked, dumb expression so incredibly endearing. He then gestured to the heavy gift in her grasp. "Should I carry that for you, Coach?"

    "I'm alright, Willy." Ada smiled, breath still a little shaky. It was likely that she had more strength in one arm than he did in his whole upper body. "Cheers, though."

    "Oh, um," He stuttered out when she was about to make her way down the hall. "Uh, I wanted to give you something, if that's alright."

    "Aw, no," She softly shook her head. "I'm not doing the team's Secret santa."

Ted had demanded that the Diamond Dogs host their own gift exchange, one that was surely taking place as she continued loitering in the halls, hair mused from slow morning sex and mind reeling from an impromptu therapy session.

"I'm not either." Will reminded her with a shy smile. "Kit men aren't part of the team." He reached a hand into the pocket of his winter coat and, from it, he procured a bulky ziplock.

"Wow." Ada stared, eyes wide and heart warm. "Are those. . .?"

   "Purple skittles."

It didn't escape him that, whilst Ada Tartt genuinely was a kind person, she heavily overcompensated for the minor wrong she'd done him by shining down a saturated, altruistic light and forcing him to bathe in it. It was a true kindness, yes, but a predominantly guilt driven one. The problem with that was the fact that Will had forgiven her for the skittles incident a long time ago.

In fact, he was incredibly grateful for the whole mess.

She'd asked him his name that day, the day she accidentally got him fired, and then went on to whisper that same name to Rebecca Welton, which earned him his job as Richmond's clubhouse attendant. And when she found out he was a big fan of hers, she chose to trust him with controlling her image and cultivating her online presence; because she didn't care about it, and knew that he cared plenty.

They were good jobs.

She was a good person.

    "This must have taken you forever." Ada cooed, gently taking the bag from him. "There's about fifty six skittles in the average packet, and only seven or eight of them are purple."

    Will's cheeks flushed red as he scratched at his temple. "I, uh, didn't count." But he wasn't surprised that she'd subconsciously done the summing, and that she still had the figures logged.

    (He believed that Ada Tartt was the smartest woman in the world -- well, maybe she was tied with Edith Stern, who he also greatly respected.)

"Thank you so much, really." She expressed, pressing a tender kiss to his brow. And with a wink and a pat on the cheek in parting, she was finally making towards her office -- until she remembered something and turned back to face him. "And, hey, you are a part of this team, Will."

He smiled, cheeks still very red.

It was already a good Christmas.

✷

"Oh, there's our girl!" Ted cheered when Ada made her way into the main office, having come in through the back door to leave her stuff at her desk.

She could only wave at the four men, unable to verbally greet them with a mouth full of skittles.

Beard leaned back in his chair. "What took you so long?" He asked, eyeing her purple stained lips – and choosing, for the sake of preserving his sanity, to ignore her purple stained throat.

"Frupst."

"What?" Nate frowned from his usual place on the shelf, head tilted.

Ada rolled her eyes, vehemently chewing on the candy in her mouth and picking up the discarded notepad on Ted's desk. She jotted something down before tossing it over to Higgins, who was stood by the window.

"The rapist." The man read aloud.

Ted blinked.

Beard swivelled around in his chair and swiftly plucked the notepad from between Higgins' fingers. "Therapist." He corrected rather blandly.

Nate turned to Ada. "You were seeing a therapist on Christmas morning?"

"The therapist was seeing me." She snorted, swallowing the last of her sugary breakfast. "And then I talked to Will for a bit."

"Anything interesting?" Ted smiled. He found her friendship with the kit man to be a beautiful thing, a selfless sort of bond that he believed the team was beginning to mimic.

"Yeah, he--" Ada clapped rather abruptly, as if remembering something. She leaned off the doorway to her and Nate's office and hurriedly made for the door leading into the locker room.

"Aye!" The girl called out, unabashedly interrupting their gift exchange ritual.

"Ada!" They all greeted in a tone so cheery that it simply had to be Christmas.

A box was suddenly hurtling towards her, and it was with the instilled reflexes of an athlete that she caught it. A quick glance confirmed that it was a box of tampons.

"Two days." Jan Maas reminded her. There was a jolly grin on his face as he pointed to the phone in his hand – a period tracker app was pulled up, and the schedule was automatically marked.

"Uh, cheers." Ada slowly nodded, carelessly tossing the strange gift over her shoulder and accidentally nailing Ted square in the face.

"Oh! Right in the zinger!"

"Sorry," She murmured before focusing back on the team, who were all sat and patiently waiting for her to speak. "Will's in the bathroom and he'll be here soon. I wanna see cash, boys."

"Cash?" Colin frowned, adjusting the large turkey hat on his head.

"And lots of it!" With those four words, she was shutting the office door. But then she opened it back up. "Oh, Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" They all echoed as she disappeared from view.

"Feliz Navidad!" Dani hooted.

Jamie tilted his head and glanced over at Sam, who was sat right beside him on the bench. "We should put it in a box, yeah? The money?"

     The Nigerian boy grinned.

     Ted was grinning, too, when Ada focused back on her own team's gift exchange. His eyes told of nought but excitement as he unwrapped the present from his secret Santa.

    "Aw, Nate, is this a photo from our first team win?" He gasped, turning the picture frame around so that they could all chance a look.

   It was from the match where Roy and Jamie had engaged in an on-pitch brawl, one that had earned them both a yellow card for their misconduct. It was the same match that brought Richmond their first win of the season. The picture perfectly captured the sweet chaos of it all; in his state of elation, Ted had picked Ada up and spun her around, and in his excitement, Nate had launched himself onto the two of them to create some sort of airborne, three-way, human carousel.

   "Yeah." Nate bashfully confirmed.

    "Thanks, buddy." Ted nodded, wide smile never wavering. "I appreciate it a lot."

    Ada plucked the gift from his grasp, perching herself on the corner of the desk as she read out the inscribed message. "Ted, thank you for everything you've done for me. Nathan." She then studied the photo in its entirety. "That's so sweet-- holy shit, I look mad fit here."

Beard rolled his eyes and snatched the picture from her, allowing his own eyes to roam over it. "Oh, wow, what a lovely inscription. . . that you wrote completely over my head, face, and body." He tightly mused before tossing it back to Ted.

"Sorry." Nate sighed.

The sudden sound of cheering caused their attention to drift over to the locker room. Stood before Isaac, who was dressed in a rather flattering Santa suit, was young Will, and in his grasp was a box full of money. The boy was blinking in complete and utter disbelief, clearly not understanding why a room full of football celebrities would choose to fund his Christmas bonus.

     Nate quietly huffed.

    "Nice one." Beard raised his fist. Ada stretched her arm out to bump it.

"Secret Santa's a fun new tradition." Higgins chuckled, turning away from the window. "As is a half-day for Christmas."

"Or if you're Soufflé, a one-third day." Ted cheesed when she flipped him off. "But, yeah, no, I think we gotta be responsible. We gotta save our legs for tomorrow's big game."

"Speaking of tomorrow's match," Ada cleared her throat, sliding off the desk and slipping into her office. She came back not a second later, with her weighty secret Santa present in hand. "Nathan, me gift to you."

Nate shot her a small smile and quickly began unwrapping it, hands stilling once he saw what it was. "Is this. . ."

"The archived book of traditional plays that I stole from the Manchester Central Library at age fourteen? Yes, it is." She rocked on her heels, eying the expression of total awe on his face. "Helped me a lot as a player, and even more as a strategist. Figured I'd let you have a shot at being good."

He ignored the jab, shaking his head in wonder as he began flicking through the thick book – carefully, so as to not tear the aged pages. "I can't believe this."

    Nate had recognised it almost immediately. She was always seen lugging it around the clubhouse last season, when helping Beard and Ted come up with plays between her scheduled modelling shoots. And it was always at her desk these days; she'd read through it when looking for inspiration or if she was simply bored. This book meant a lot to her, he knew that.

   It had helped mold her mind, which was arguably one of the greatest football minds of this generation.

    Nate touched the firm spine, so different from the cracked and withered one he was used to seeing. She must have gotten it rebinded before gifting it to him.

    "Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it." Ada smiled, seating herself back on Ted's desk and reaching for a glass of water. "To, uh, Christmas." She toasted as she raised her drink.

    "To Christmas." Her fellow Diamond Dogs echoed, raising their glasses of scotch.

   "And if we get this Boxing Day win, we'll finally have more wins than losses." Beard pointed out.

    Ada and Ted winced.

    Whilst the team had been doing much better since the return of Jamie Tartt, they were still behind in the championship ranking. Four wins, four losses, and far too many ties. Tomorrow's match was their chance to turn things around.

    "So, Soufflé," Ted turned his gaze over to her. "You gonna be here on time tomorrow?"

   "Fuck off." She rolled her eyes, downing the rest of her water. "Yes, okay? I've never missed a match before. I booked the early train back from Manchester."

    "Ooohhh." They all whistled cheekily.

    "Manchester Christmas with the boyfriend, is it?" Higgins wiggled his eyebrows, a fond smile on his face.

   Ted grinned. "Roy meeting the mom?"

    Ada wasn't proud of the smile on her face, how wide and childlike it was. And she hated how her cheeks flushed with mirth. The idea of her mother, who was arguably the most important person in her life, meeting Roy, who was arguably the only man she'd ever loved, was beyond thrilling. She genuinely couldn't wait to see them interact, and she also couldn't wait to introduce him to Simon and to all the other people who'd played pivotal roles in her life growing up.

    "Taking him on the North Manchester tour," She nodded. "Showing him me home, where I first played football, the bridge that me mates and I used to smoke under when we were in secondary."

    "Adorable." Ted smiled. Then the smile wavered. "I meant the whole showing your boyfriend who you used to be before you met part, not the underage smoking. Underage smoking is like feeding chocolate cake to your dog, you know? Sounds okay, but the consequences are. . ."

    "Got it." She snorted. "But, uh, yeah, I'm excited. We'll get there late and come back early but, like, it's gonna be good."

    "Awww." They cooed, like a flock of mother hens.

     "You're talking about the Manchester Christmas." Rebecca sang as she swiftly entered the room, quick to shoot Ada a teasing look. "Who knew you'd be introducing one of your men to Georgie."

     The girl rolled her eyes, but she simply couldn't wipe the smile from her face. The only boys Georgie had ever met were the conquests that teenage Ada would bring home (her mother was the sort of person to make them stay for breakfast and then insist on giving them a ride to school – poor Jamie had to share the backseat with many unsavoury lads). There were a few boyfriends, sure, but those were boys that Ada had grown up with, and Georgie had already met them many times before they'd started dating her daughter.

   The few men that came along after Ada left Manchester hadn't been special – certainly not worth mentioning, let alone introducing, to her beautiful mother.

But Roy was different.

(He was. . . Roy. There was simply no other way to put it. They only started dating towards the end of last season, so less than a year ago, but it always felt like much longer. And maybe that was because she'd heard his name whispered and chattered all throughout her youth. Maybe it was because he'd been plastered on her bedroom wall for ages. Maybe it was because she'd known of him pretty much her entire life.

Ada Tartt had hated Roy Kent for twice as long as she'd known him. She planned to love him and truly know him for much longer.)

"Well, hey, buy me some ruby slippers and send me packin' because I say there ain't no place like home." Ted hummed, ruffling Ada's short hair. He then turned to Rebecca. "Now, how about you, boss? How you spending the rest of Santa's birthday?"

"Oh, I'm just going to a Christmas party at a friend's house." The woman said, smile ever so modest.

Ada narrowed her eyes. "Does this friend happen to be someone that Sassy Collins has allegedly given a boner?"

Ted shifted when the three men in the room turned to look at him.

"Yes," Rebecca sighed, pouring herself a glass of scotch. "It's Elton John."

"Holy shit!" Nate gasped.

(It didn't matter how long he'd been surrounded by notorious athletes or how close he was with Ada fucking Tartt, the celebrity name dropping and the referencing of lavish activities still shocked him. He briefly wondered when it would be his turn.)

"Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen!" Ted exclaimed, adjusting the Santa hat that he was wearing.

"Yes, yes, it's actually rather lovely." Rebecca admitted once she decided that they weren't mocking her. "We just sing carols around Elton's piano and hopefully Rachel Weisz and Daniel Craig will do their puppet show again."

"Sounds like double-0 heaven to me."

Ada snorted, reaching over to high five her dear friend. "Good one."

Ted grinned at her. And then he turned to Higgins. "How about you?"

"The Higginses will be opening Christmas presents and then hosting open house for players who don't have family in town. Something we do every year." He pursed his lips. "We usually get about. . . two."

"That's really kind of you." Ada smiled. There were many times in her life when she could've done with a welcoming roof during the holidays. It was rare for her to be home for Christmas, what with being a footballer who played matches abroad all throughout December to then being a model who had contractual obligations such as seasonal galas and fundraisers.

In truth, she couldn't remember the last time she'd spent a holiday, or even proper quality time, with her family. Whenever she did visit her mother (which was embarrassingly rare despite the mere four hour distance), the universe always made it so that her twin brother was busy. And when Jamie could make it, it was Ada that couldn't be there. They always worked heavy and demanding jobs, and always had to decline their mother's invitations with heavy and solemn hearts.

   But this year would be different, because the Tartt twins' impossible childhood dream of being on the same exact team finally came true. They were both Greyhounds now. And they were both going home. And it was finally going to feel like Christmas again.

Ada's eyes flickered over to the door when a gentle knock suddenly sounded.

   "Hey, Merry Christmas." Jamie greeted as he walked into the office, a sheepish look on his face.

A soft chorus of Merry Christmas was echoed back to him, one that gave him monetary pause. Jamie was still getting used to this overtly warm work environment, with coaches that cared about him. And teammates that were true friends. And a club owner that doted on her team. And his sister, his twin, being there whenever he needed her – like now, for example.

"Merry Christmas, Ades."

"Alright, knobhead?" She smiled, shifting on the desk so that she could properly face him. "You need something?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyes darting around the room and taking in all the patient faces. "You got anything that I can give as a present in here?"

Beard blinked.

Ada snorted. "Didn't know what secret Santa meant, did you?"

"Hmm?" Ted tilted his head. He was pretty sure it was a universal thing, a fun and popular tradition that had long been globalised. "Wait, so, you didn't bring a gift?"

"I didn't know I had to." Jamie huffed defensively. "The email said secret Santa. I didn't wanna ruin the surprise, did I?"

Rebecca's eyes fluttered shut, and she reached a hand out to lightly pat him on the head. "Oh, Jamie."

The striker frowned, not understanding why he was being pitied.

Thankfully, Ted Lasso was a man whose profession demanded efficiency and relied on quick thinking. He was also a father, and so the ability to solve such problems came naturally. "You know what, hold on here." He mumbled, rooting through his desk drawers for anything worth anything. "Yep. Here you go. Leslie, look alive!"

Higgins readily caught the thermos and laid it flat on the table, where Beard had already set a square sheet of wrapping paper. Ada tossed a roll of tape over to Nate, letting him tear the necessary strips as she began looking for a self adhesive bow.

Rebecca pushed herself off the wall and approached the desk, like a hospital attending overlooking the work of her surgical interns. She made sure the thermos was completely covered by the patterned gift wrapping, and slapped Ada's hand away in order to correct the positioning of the bow.

"Oh," Ted grinned over at Jamie. "Mrs. Claus hates when her little elf helps out."

"Who the fuck are you calling an elf?" Ada scoffed as she secured a few more ribbons, sticking her tongue out at Rebecca when the presentation turned out nice. She then pocketed a bow for herself.

    Beard shot her a strange look.

    "Hey, you never when you're gonna need a self adhesive bow." The girl shrugged defensively.

Once done, they all took a step back.

"Whoo! There's your Christmas miracle." Ted cheesed, exchanging a prideful look with everyone in the room as Jamie tested the weight of the gift and studied its new bon bon shape.

The star player gave a slow, appreciative nod. "God bless me. . . everyone."

An admittedly self obsessed young man with selfless intentions somewhat selfishly praising a selfless gesture. It was incredibly complex if one took the time to study its layers, but for now, it was simply confounding.

Ted and Higgins exchanged a vaguely amused look.

"Oh, Ades," Jamie suddenly remembered, turning away from the door to face his twin sister. "Managed to get us the last two seats for an earlier train today."

The fact that their train left London at seven o'clock meant that they'd be arriving in Manchester at around ten, leaving them with barely any time to enjoy the holiday and to relish in their mother's comforting presence. An earlier ride out would mean a longer stay, which was just what they wanted

Ada shot him a look. "Well, let me know when you get your hands on three."

She knew her brother was hoping that Roy would stay behind, and whilst she could sympathise the tiniest bit (nobody wanted to spend Christmas with someone they despised), Ada believed this trip could be a building block. She really wanted to introduce her boyfriend to Georgie, but what she wanted even more was for him and Jamie to find common ground.

Once upon a time, an underprivileged boy from North Manchester watched a man from the shittiest part of South London play a game on telly. And the kid immediately began worshipping him – for his form, and for his rage on the pitch, and for their similar upbringing which proved that anyone could make it big. And when that same little boy went on to play in the Premier League alongside his former idol? Well, it was no fairytale; their personalities couldn't coexist.

    Jamie was too cocky, and Roy sat himself on a pedestal.

They were too different, and they loathed each other's flaws. But Ada also knew that they were so incredibly similar. And that the foundation for friendship was already there, if only they would allow for the cement to set without chaos and disruption.

Christmas could be that little peace.

"How am I supposed to get me hands on three fucking tickets if I only have two hands?" Jamie muttered to himself as he slipped out of the office.

Rebecca watched him go, head titled as if studying an extraterrestrial. "He really is your twin brother, isn't he?"

✷

Jamie had yet another favour locked and loaded and ready to be asked once work wrapped up; he needed help packing his bag. The boy was a notorious over packer, and had been struggling, for the last two days, to figure out how much was too much when merely spending the night.

   Ada, Colin, and Isaac went over to his house to help him out a bit. Well, Ada helped whilst Colin ate the food Jamie had in his fridge (he claimed it would probably go bad by the time they got back to Richmond – which was in less than twenty four hours) and Isaac watched movies in her brother's new home theatre (he always wanted to watch Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties in 3D).

    After getting him ready, and after all four of them watched Garfield and Jon reunite, it was time to drop Jamie off at the station – where he had another go at convincing Ada to hop on the early train with him.

   She could only pinch his cheek and promise to see him later.

    And it was because of that little side quest that, when the doorbell rang, Ada was only halfway done with lighting candles and stringing up lights. She and Roy were planning on spending the remainder of the afternoon together, just opening their small presents from each other and watching films and obsessively kissing and going over the rules for tonight ("Don't insult Jamie, don't tell Simon the gingerbread tastes burnt, ask me mum for a cold beer if she offers to pour you wine with dinner,").

But it wasn't her beautiful boyfriend that greeted her when she swung the front door open. Instead, it was his niece that stood on her front porch, a candy cane lodged in her mouth and a frown on her face.

"Pheebs?"

The girl's frown only deepened, and she offered no greeting as she brushed past her and sprinted for the living room. Ada didn't have time to bask in the dismissive sting, because Roy was suddenly storming right in.

"Didn't get my text, did you?" He grunted, a stack of gifts piled up in his arms as he entered the house.

"Did it say that Phoebe hates me now?"

"My sister got called in, she's finally assisting in some fucking surgery." Roy tiredly sighed, dropping the presents under the small tree (it was the houseplant Dani had gifted them, not seasonal by any means but it did the job). "Phoebe's gotta spend Christmas with me. I'm sorry."

He turned to face his girlfriend, and was surprised to find nothing but blissful joy tainting her expression.

Ada grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him. "Why would you be sorry, babe?" She smiled, resting her forehead against his own. "Me mum loves kids! She's been waiting for me and Jamie to surprise her with children for, like, years."

Oh.

    She didn't get it.

"Fuck," Roy squeezed his eyes shut before pressing a soft kiss to her mouth. And then pressing one to her forehead. And both her cheeks. And then her mouth again. "Fuck. No, uh, my sister's going to try to get off work before midnight. So that she can spend some of today with Phoebe."

He watched Ada as processed the information. Watched her pupils dilate as she did the math, watched her shoulders slump as she arrived at the obvious answer, and watched her worry at her bottom lip as she sat with the conclusion.

"Hey," Roy used his thumb to stop her from tearing at the pillowy flesh, pressing a tender kiss to her mouth once her lip was freed. "I'm sorry."

   (He felt so incredibly guilty. Because they'd planned this trip a while ago and it was now ruined, yes. And because she'd been so excited about the whole thing, sure. And because he loved her and wanted to always be there, yes, of course. But what he was most guilty about was the feeling of relief that had enveloped him when he got the call from his sister.

   Roy loved Ada Tartt more than he hated her brother. He'd come to that conclusion before they even made their relationship official. But the idea of spending Christmas with Jamie, and then sitting beside him on the train ride back to Richmond, made him feel violently ill. And he knew that it was unfair, and that it was something he would have to grow used to if he planned on being in her life forever, but he felt like this was all happening too fast.

   It was only the other day, after the match against Coventry City, that he told her he'd start trying. That for her, he would try. But surely his first trial, if they were aiming and hoping for success, couldn't be an intimate family gathering.

    Maybe the universe was actually on their side. Maybe the universe knew this trip would've brought nothing good. Maybe the universe knew to derail their plans. Roy liked to believe that.)

Ada shook her head, forcing a small smile onto her face. "No, it's, um, it's alright." She lightly caressed his stubbled cheek. "I guess I just wanted to show you Manchester."

"I've been to Manchester before."

"Well, yeah, but," She shook her head again. "Not my Manchester. Like, where I played football and where I went to school and shit."

There was something about her youth that felt so incredibly important. Ada knew that people separated their lives in two, that there was a metaphorical line drawn between childhood and adulthood, but it wasn't like that for her. Her life as an adult was not a sequel, but a mere continuation. And maybe that was because she'd been an adult her entire life, or because she never actually grew up, or maybe it was a strange mixture of both those things – whatever the reason was, Ada existed in the past and the present.

She really wanted to show Roy what the former part entailed.

(A horrible voice told her that she wouldn't have gotten the chance either way. That Roy wouldn't have come even if he wasn't tasked with taking care of his niece. It told her that he'd jumped at the chance to get out of this trip. That despite genuinely wanting to meet her mother and Simon, he wanted nothing more than to spend the holidays sans Jamie Tartt.)

"But you would've come, right? If your sister didn't get called in?" She couldn't help but ask, eyes darting all over his handsome face.

"Yes."

(Ada didn't know if she believed him.)

"Yeah?"

Roy kissed her, "Yes."

(He liked to think he was being honest.)

    Ada bit her lip. And then she thread her fingers through his dark hair, lightly scratching at his scalp as she did so. Because he really loved that and she really loved him – so much so that she silenced that ugly voice in her head, and chose not to be bitter about missing the early train home.

   Roy barely had time to blink before Ada was suddenly hugging him. Her grip was tight, like she was looking for assurance or something. Like she needed the embrace and she wasn't even sure why.

  He rubbed her back in what he hoped was a soothing enough gesture. "I'm sorry."

   (He really was. He loved her.)

     "Stop saying that," She mumbled against his chest, gently kissing where she felt his heart thrumming. He shouldn't have to apologise for taking care of his niece and for being a good brother – not to Ada, who could understand putting family first.

"I love you."

     Ada didn't hear him, ears honing in on the faint sound of sniffling. "Poor kid," She sighed, pulling away slightly to look over his shoulder. "Christmas without your mummy sucks."

    Roy bit back a smile at her childish phrasing. "Yeah," he nodded, caressing the warmth of her cheek with his thumb. "She's been like this all week, apparently."

     "Wait, what? Why?"

    "Don't know, she won't talk about it." He leaned in for a kiss (there was truly nothing in his life that compared to kissing Ada Tartt), but she clapped a hand over his mouth before there was any contact.

And then she tugged him towards the softly lit living room, where all three of them spent an uncomfortable stretch of time sitting in complete silence; Roy and Ada on the floor, and a solemn Phoebe on the sofa in front of them.

"Fuck do we do now?" He grumbled under his breath once they hit the five minute mark.

Ada shot him a look. "Doctor Sharon always waits for the other person to speak first." She whispered, leaning closer so he could hear her.

"You're not a fucking doctor, Ada."

"Yeah, well, fuck you."

Phoebe watched them hiss back and forth. "I can hear you, you know."

"Of course you can, Trouble!" Ada eagerly agreed, swerving back around to face her. "Your ears are perfect."

The little girl stared at her for a moment, and then she was whimpering. "But not my newtons."

Roy squinted. "Your what?"

"A boy at school was mean to me." Phoebe abruptly told them, cupping a hand over her mouth – not like she was reluctantly confessing or like she was ashamed, but like she was protecting them from something.

"What did he do?" Roy glared, leaning forward rather menacingly.

"Don't hound her." Ada pushed him back and then focused her attention back on his niece. "Phoebe, you can tell us, okay? We'll always understand."

"No!" The girl passionately shook her head and brought a pillow up to her face. "You don't understand, you're Ada Tartt!"

And to Phoebe, Ada Tartt was perfect. She didn't know any other girls that looked pretty with short hair. And she didn't know anyone else who spoke with a funny accent but still sounded super smart. And she'd never seen someone dress really cool all the time.

"Phoebe," Ada frowned, reaching out to lightly caress her forehead – the only part of her face that wasn't covered up by the blue throw pillow. "Hey, I was bullied, too. All the time."

Roy shot her a brief look of disbelief. Phoebe eyes popped up from behind the fluffy shield just to blink incredulously.

"I was!" She insisted. "When I was in school, boys used to call me by Jamie's name because I was flat chested."

"But you're perfect. . ." Phoebe voiced in confusion, words muffled as she hid her mouth behind the pillow.

"I'm not," Ada shook her head. "Nobody is, okay? I still get bullied all the time, Trouble. By those mean men with their cameras." She gave her a small smile and a shrug. "But you think I'm perfect, so I like to believe I am. And I think you're perfect, so you should believe you are, too. Belief is all that really matters."

Phoebe's eyes darted over to Roy. He dragged his gaze away from his girlfriend (it took some effort) to shoot his niece a reassuring look.

The young blonde sighed, reluctantly pulling the pillow away from her face. She then handed Ada the box sitting beside her, the one that she got gifted by her secret Santa.

Ada absentmindedly tested the weight of it before slowly lifting the box's patterned lid. The first thing she saw, sat atop a layer of coloured tissue paper, was a Christmas card. It had four snowmen drawn on it and appeared innocent enough.

"Merry Christmas, Phoebe. I got you something you desperately need. Your secret Santa, Bernard." She read aloud.

"Who the fuck is Bernard?" Roy grit.

Ada aggressively rolled her eyes. "Her secret Santa, obviously." She then lifted the decorative bits to see what the gift actually was, her hands immediately stilling. "Um, Pheebs, when you said newtons earlier. . ."

"I meant teeth."

Roy shook his head in disbelief.

"Yeah." Ada mumbled, eyes focused on the mini dentist kit. "Why would Bernard get you toothpaste and mouthwash for Christmas, Trouble?"

Tears immediately bubbled along Phoebe's waterline as she answered, hand covering her mouth again. "Because he told everyone my breath is rancid!"

That seemed to stir something in her uncle, an anger that rivalled what he once brought to the pitch. "Right, where does Bernard live?"

"Roy." Ada turned to glare at him. It didn't matter that his capacity for rage was insanely attractive to her, they were talking about beating up a child. "We're not hurting a fucking kid."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" She echoed, eye twitching. "Because he's a prick, but he's young, okay? All kids are pricks, you knobhead. He'll grow out of it. Just move on."

Phoebe blinked.

Roy did, too. It felt like they were having two different conversations, and hers didn't seem fun.

"Trouble, listen," Ada cleared her throat, facing forward once more. "This little boy that hurt you probably did it because he has nothing better to do, yeah? He's a loser." She leaned in a little. "Let's just make sure the loser was talking bobbins, okay?"

Phoebe turned away.

"Hey, it's me!" Ada gently grabbed her by the chin. "Come on, let me have a smell. I shared a room with a boy all me life, and me office is about a metre away from a men's locker room. Okay? Go on."

The little girl slowly turned to face her surrogate family member, and after a brief moment of hesitance, she breathed out.

Ada's eyes immediately stung.

Roy watched in mild concern as she subtly heaved. But then all subtlety and decorum flew right out the window, and his girlfriend was forcefully biting back a gag. "Oi!" He called out. "She feels bad enough!"

"I'm sorry!" Ada practically sobbed.

"It cannot be that bad," He shook his head, scooting closer to his guilty looking niece.

Phoebe immediately picked the pillow back up and burrowed her small face into it. "Go away!" She begged, as if afraid of her newfound power. "I'm a monster!"

"Phoebe," Roy frowned. "I've spent the last twenty years in locker rooms with men, okay? Nobody's nose has gone through what mine has."

"Definitely gone through a lot." Ada snorted, her mind in the gutter along with her nasal cavity. She could only smile when her boyfriend turned to glare at her. "It's a great nose, babe."

He clenched his jaw, neck burning red, and turned back to Phoebe. She was shaking like a leaf. "Come on," He gently coaxed, encouraging her to breathe out again.

   But Roy immediately regretted his decision once he got a whiff. His body stiffened and his stomach recoiled and his face fell flat from the shock to his sinuses.

"I think you might be dying."

Ada gaped, and her shoulders slumped when Phoebe let out another whimper. It was bad enough that this girl was spending Christmas without her mother, and that she felt tormented at school, but to add this on top of that? To have the two people taking care of her, two people she loved and looked up to, make her feel worse? And for them to offer no solution to her problem?

   "Pheebs, hey," She immediately shoved Roy to the side and took his place in front of the couch. "You're not gonna die, alright? Christmas is a day of birth!"

     Phoebe didn't seem to hear her, eyes trained on her gagging uncle.

    "Don't look at him, look at me! I'm much prettier!" Ada smiled tightly, cupping the girl's face. "Listen to me, okay? Your breath is dangerous, babe. Like, there's something medically wrong. And you know what that means?"

   "I'm gonna die." Phoebe sobbed.

     Roy gagged again.

     "No, no," The former model shook her head, softly rubbing Phoebe's cheeks. "It means it's not your fault, and it means we can get it fixed. I promise you that we'll do whatever it takes."

     Roy watched through bleary eyes as his niece launched herself at Ada, like she was some sort of security blanket. Like she could make all the bad go away. The sight was enough to sober him up slightly.

    "Right," He panted, pushing himself off the floor and standing up rather unsteadily. "I'm gonna sort this."

    Ada shot him a look as she gently rocked Phoebe on her lap. "If I'm not a doctor then you definitely aren't."

    "Put your coats on." He rolled his eyes.

      His niece glanced up at him, cheeks still a little ruddy from the overall embarrassment. "Where are we going?"

    "We're going to my stupid posh neighbourhood, and we're gonna start knocking on doors."

    "Oh, God, he's lost it." Ada mumbled tiredly. "Babe, carolling is not gonna fix anything."

    "We're carolling?" Phoebe frowned.

     Roy rubbed a hand over his face. "We're going to look for a dentist." He pointed to the two of them. "If we don't find one in ten houses then you each get a thousand pounds."

✷

Here's the thing – Ada Tartt had a lot of fucking money. It was not something one could deny or argue with or even overstate, really. And it was expected, what with going from being one of the most well-known female footballers (she could begrudgingly admit that her up and coming brother, a male footballer who shared her last name, had a bit to do with her global popularity) to being the most sought after model in the industry.

In short, she had money coming out of her fucking ears.

But she wasn't posh. She tried to be when she first moved to London, tried to acclimate herself to the high society lifestyle that Rupert Mannion was pushing, but it simply wasn't for her. The pristine townhouses lacked the warmth she so desperately missed, and the quiet streets failed to lull her to sleep in the way that her chaotic home once did.

Roy Kent was different. He became a man at nine years old, was sent off to become the breadwinner with nought but a woollen blanket in his tight grip and a pat on his tense back. And, so, to him, chaos was not laughing mothers and icky twin brothers and mischievous school friends that occasionally spent the night. Instead, it was brawling men and mean coaches and the aggressive slamming of locker doors.

So when money came along, and when he was tasked with making a home for himself, he chose to live in the cleanest and calmest area available. Unlike Ada, he wasn't looking to replicate what he once knew – no, he wanted the complete opposite. Not bleak South London or cold Sunderland, but a third thing.

This neighbourhood was that thing.

"Alright," He grunted, looking down at Phoebe who was sandwiched between him and his girlfriend. "Here we fucking go."

Ada shot him a wink and pressed on the ornamental doorbell, gently squeezing Phoebe's hand as they waited for someone to open the door.

It took less than a minute.

"Wow!" It was a little boy with close cropped hair and a plaid shirt buttoned up all the way to the top. He was gaping at the man stood on his porch. "Roy Kent!"

Ada bit back a smile, eyes darting between the excited child and the man to her right. She loved that little boys would forever look up to him. She loved seeing him be loved.

"Are you going to sing?" The boy wondered, shifting on his feet.

"He will if you give him a pound."

She also really loved annoying him.

Roy rolled his eyes. "No singing. We're not carollers." He looked over the boy's shoulder. "Is your mum or dad a dentist?"

"No," He sighed, obviously disappointed that his parents weren't working the necessary profession. "They're lawyers."

"Figures." Roy grunted. He offered no parting words or gestures before tugging Phoebe down the front steps by her right hand. "Come on."

Ada, whose fingers were still interlocked with the little girl's, had no choice but to follow. She made sure to wave at the sweet stranger first, though. "Your mum and dad must be super cool lawyers! Beautiful fucking house!"

He stared at her, and then he grinned.

Phoebe wasn't grinning when they made it back onto the spotless pavement. "Uncle Roy, this is embarrassing!" She groaned, releasing her grip on both their hands so that she could cover her face.

Roy shook his head and immediately kneeled in front of her. "This isn't embarrassing." He softly reassured. "Embarrassing is eating a full can of squirty cream, knowing I'm no good with dairy, and then pooping my pants the next morning."

Ada smiled, kneeling down beside him and pressing a kiss to his temple. "Finish your sentence so we can laugh."

He clenched his jaw. "Last week."

Phoebe started giggling, eyes darting between the two adults that cared about her very much. "You hate squirty cream, Uncle Roy!" She tittered. "Why did you eat a full can? That's silly!"

Ada blindly caressed her boyfriend's reddening cheek, turning to face Phoebe before she could (unknowingly) ask any more questions about their sex life. "It's because he's human, Trouble. And humans, we sometimes end up in shitty situations -- no pun intended."

"You pooped your pants?" A disbelieving voice suddenly asked. "Roy Kent?"

The aforementioned man stood, straightening his black suit as he looked to their one person audience. The little boy was still at the door, and he was gaping again.

"Yeah, so?"

"I do, too, sometimes." He admitted rather sheepishly.

"Well, let's both try and knock that off, shall we?" Roy suggested, gruff voice holding a semblance of warmth as he leaned against the post box. "If you can do it, I can do it. Cool?"

The boy blinked. "Cool," He nodded. His eyes then darted towards Ada, who was watching them with an amused expression. "Will I get a girlfriend like you if I stop?"

"Why not? Stranger things have happened." She shrugged before grabbing Phoebe's hand once more. "Merry Christmas!"

    The next two houses were also a bust. The first was another townhouse, one that was owned by an architect and her chef husband. The second house was currently being rented out to a young couple, both men were wealthy but unemployed.

   The third stop was a few doors down from the second, the grandest home so far, with spotless windows and an unblemished exterior. Roy was the one to ring the bell this time, and he looked pained to do it – no doubt he'd gone years without these people knowing he was their neighbour.

    A young woman opened the door, a pleasant enough smile masking her tired expression. Her hair was in a tight ponytail, and stray strands framed her face and stuck to her sunken cheeks. "Good afternoon." She greeted them in an extremely polite tone of voice.

     "Are you a dentist?"

    She glanced over her shoulder in confusion, but found nobody stood behind her. She then slowly shook her head, eyeing Roy rather wearily. Like she thought he was mocking her.

    He didn't understand why.

    His girlfriend did.

     "The people living here, are they dentists?" Ada asked, eyes a little distant and a shadow of a smile ghosting her mouth.

     "No, ma'am." The maid replied. "Professors, the both of them."

      "Thank you." She nodded, gently nudging Phoebe towards the porch steps. "Merry Christmas."

     "Yes, Merry Christmas."

      Ada glanced down at her watch as they resumed their hunt. "Making her work on Christmas day," She scoffed under her breath.

     Roy looked at her from the corner of his eye, taking in the faraway expression on her face. She was rubbing her thumb along the back of Phoebe's small hand, and was biting on her lip as she eyed all the neighbourhood houses.

  He knew that her mother was a maid once, and that she worked other jobs as well in order to properly provide for her two children. Ada had told him that, on weekends when they were too young to be left alone, Georgie would be forced to take her and Jamie to work. They would sit in the supermarket's back room as she took to the register or would quietly follow her around as she cleaned people's homes.

   When they got older, and when they took up football as an after school activity, she stared doubling up on shifts. There were weekends when they barely saw her. He could only assume that the holidays weren't always an exception.

    ("Christmas without your mummy sucks." She'd said just earlier today.)

    "How much time?"

     "Hmm?" Ada hummed, turning to face him. He was gesturing to her watch, clearly asking how much time she had left until her train was set to board. "Oh, uh, I have time."

    "You're leaving?" Phoebe frowned, coming to an immediate halt.

     Ada exchanged a look with Roy before slowly kneeling in front of the little girl. She didn't want to mention that she was visiting her mother, not when there was a chance that Phoebe wouldn't be seeing hers at all today, but she couldn't act like staying in town was an option either.

  "I have to go, Phoebe." She eventually sighed. "Jamie accidentally took a train to Germany and they postponed Perchtenlaufen this year, which means he's currently surrounded by people dressed up as evil spirits."

    Roy squeezed his eyes shut. Why couldn't she say she had a work trip or that there was an emergency somewhere? What the fuck was Perch--

   "Perchtenlaufen?" Phoebe asked, head tilted in curiosity.

    "It's a holiday where people's main aim is to banish winter and all the evil that may come with it, Trouble."

    The blonde slowly nodded. "And it got pushed to Christmas day this year?"

     "Yeah," Ada shrugged. "Just me brother's luck, innit? Poor Jamie, he's so scared over there. He needs me." She reached out to pinch Phoebe's pudgy cheek. "But you needed me first so I'm not leaving until we find you a dentist, alright?"

      Phoebe smiled, and then she threw herself at Ada. "Bring me back something German, please." She mumbled into her shoulder.

    Ada grinned at her boyfriend from over Phoebe's head.

   Roy softly shook his head.

   He loved that his niece looked up for her.

   He loved seeing her be loved.

   He loved loving her, too.

   "Oi, come on. Next house."

✷

    Seven more houses, and still no dentist. They met a zoologist whose pet Boa doubled as a winter scarf, an opera singer who offered them each (Phoebe included) a glass of her freshly mulled wine, a husband and wife who worked as actors and who kept listing the unknown projects they'd been in, a man that Ada was still convinced was Bill Nye the science guy (neither of her companions recognised the name, one was too old and one was too young), and there was also a redundant meteorologist who felt it necessary to tell them that it wasn't currently raining.

    The last two houses belonged to unemployed people basking in their generational wealth.

    "House number ten, Uncle Roy!" Phoebe called over her shoulder as she and Ada stood before the front door. "A thousand pounds, you promised!"

    Ada snorted and briefly glanced back at him. "Oh, shit," She sighed. "Trouble, ring the doorbell. I need to see about a knee." And with that, she was making her way down the porch steps and walking over to her limping boyfriend.

    "I got it." He stubbornly grit.

     "Shut up. Bite on this." She untucked his tie from inside his jacket and held it up to his mouth. He gave her a look. She didn't waver. He begrudgingly clamped down on the fabric with sharp teeth. She let her eyes linger on his own for a bit, that infuriating Tartt smirk slowly tugging at the corner of her full lips. "Good boy."

   He rolled his eyes, but swallowed thickly when she kneeled in front of him.

     "Ready?" Ada didn't wait for him to respond. Placing a warm hand on his upper thigh to keep the leg steady, and placing the other behind his knee, she quickly popped the bone back in place.

     Roy groaned.

     Ada softly shushed him and pressed a soothing kiss to his kneecap.

    "Am I paying for this?" The homeowner quietly asked Phoebe, eyeing the attractive couple stood in front of her house. A  beautiful girl was kneeling in front of a flustered man who had a tie in his mouth.

     Phoebe grinned up at her. "I'm getting a thousand pounds for being here."

     "What?"

     "No, she fucking isn't." Roy grunted, catching the end of their conversation as he made his way up the marble stairs. "Are you a dentist?"

     The woman, a blonde wisp of a thing with large blue eyes, immediately gasped when she saw him. "Are you Roy Kent?"

     "Are you a dentist?" He asked again.

     "Yeah." She slowly nodded, eyes darting over to Ada. "Oh, my God! I know you! Where do I know you from?"

     "Can we come in?" Roy interrupted, picking up his niece and barging past the woman. He then paused and walked back outside, holding his hand out towards Ada.

    She shot the homeowner an apologetic smile before slipping her slender fingers in between her boyfriend's calloused ones, allowing for him to drag her inside. "Sorry about this! You have a lovely house!"

    It only took a few minutes for the kind stranger, who briefly introduced herself as Katherine Rogers, to get everything set up. She now had a surgical mask on and was shining a light into Phoebe's mouth.

     Ada and Roy watched the basic examination from their place on the couch.

    "Oh," Katherine huffed, sitting back in the chair across from Phoebe's and slowly removing her mask. "Well, congratulations, Phoebe. That is some spectacularly bad breath."

     The little girl glanced over at Ada, who shot her an impressed wink. "Thank you, Doctor Katherine."

     "Have you been under any unusual stress lately?" The dentist asked, head titled.

     "Not if I count how many times Liam Gallagher asks a question in the song Champagne Supernova." Phoebe smiled lightly.

    Roy rolled his eyes.

    "Have you been smoking?"

     "No!" Phoebe laughed, as if the mere notion of someone her age holding a cigarette was a surreal one.

     "Like feeding chocolate cake to your dog." Ada gravely nodded, reaching for Roy's hand. He had no idea what she was talking about but let her do and say as she pleased.

     Katherine pursed her lips in confusion before continuing with her questions. "Any new medications?"

     "Just my antihistamines."

    "They got a new cat," Roy explained, sitting up straighter. "She's allergic to them."

     Phoebe grinned at the mention of her furry companion. "Her name is Dauphine. My mum said that we rescued her, but I like to think that she rescued us."

    "You beautiful soul." Ada softly cooed.

     "Well, the beautiful soul just solved the mystery." Katherine huffed in amusement. "Antihistamines dry out the mouth, and when saliva production is reduced, then the environment for odor producing bacteria thrives. And thrive, it has." She gave Phoebe a small frown. "Might be time to say au revoir to Dauphine."

     "No!" The little girl cried out.

     "Come on, Phoebe." Roy shook his head unsympathetically. "You've only had her a month."

     Phoebe whimpered, eyes shining with fresh tears as she desperately turned to the couched adults. "But we're soulmates, like you and uncle Ada!"

     Ada snorted, never having believed in the concept of soulmates. Roy frowned at her. Phoebe's eyes darted between them, still very desperate.

    "Please." She clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture. "Let me keep her."

    Ada propped herself up on the arm of Phoebe's chair, tenderly cupping her little face. "Trouble, listen to me. Nobody's gonna make you get rid of Dauphine, okay? Because that's evil, and it's Perchtenlaufen today, which means all the evil uncles are dying," She shot Roy a look. He tilted his head. "And I'm sure Doctor Rogers has another solution because today is also Christmas, and who would hurt a sweet thing like you on Christmas?"

     "Nobody with a heart." Katherine smiled, standing up from her own chair and moving towards the home medicine cabinet.

     Ada kissed Phoebe's brow and moved back to her place on the couch, where she was only just noticing that they had a full view of the dining room.

    "Yo!" A young man abruptly stood, the legs of his chair screeching against the wooden floorboards. "Can I get an ussie?"

     Roy groaned, massaging his aching knee as he rose from the sofa. "Fine."

     The boy, decked out in a Christmas tracksuit and a red paper crown, shot him a strange frown. "Not with you, mate. With Ada Tartt." That earned him confused looks from the senior men at the table, so he went on to explain his reasoning. "I mean, he's a legend at Chelsea but shit at Richmond. But Ada Tartt was a seminal figure throughout my teenage years."

    Roy ground his teeth. Seminal was certainly an odd choice of words, and he didn't appreciate innuendos.

    "Teenage years?" Katherine snorted, entering the living room with the medicine in hand. "Tommy, the bikini picture is still up." She pointed to Ada. "That's where you're from."

    "She's from Manchester." Phoebe mumbled to herself.

    Tommy flushed red when he noticed that Ada Tartt's mildly amused gaze was set on him. He'd been dreaming of her since she licked Nutella off James Acaster's cheek on Bake Off. And he admittedly stared at that Sports Illustrated centrefold every night before bed.

    Roy instinctively tensed when he noticed the boy's flustered state, only relaxing when he felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around his middle.

    "Tommy, you're fucking hilarious." Ada snorted, cuddling up to her boyfriend. "How about this, why don't we all take a picture together?"

    "By the tree." Roy grit, pulling her even closer. He slid a hand up the back of her red blouse, seeking her natural warmth.

    Tommy cheesed and snapped his fingers, like a child who was promised cake for dinner. "Wicked! Group ussie!" He rushed over to the living room, his many family members standing up to follow him.

    Ada blinked when he squeezed himself between her and Roy. "I'm like your kid!" The boy hooted. Then he stilled. "Well, if kids really wanted to shag their mums."

    Katherine's jaw dropped.

    Roy's eye twitched. And it twitched every time they had to retake the stupid fucking photo; one of the narcoleptic old people accidentally shut their eyes, one of the kids wet their pants, Katherine had a very late reaction to Phoebe's breath, Tommy had to sit down after Ada kissed his cheek. The last photo, which was the only one that turned out semi-alright, was taken mere seconds before one of the great aunts confused Phoebe's medicine for her blood pressure medication.

    So they had to go buy more.

    On Christmas.

     Ada glanced down at her watch as they stood outside the pharmacy, waiting for the man that Roy bribed to come back with their prescription. Her train was supposed to leave soon.

    She looked over when the door jingled, watching as the pharmacist approached them and handed Roy the medicine. She then watched as her boyfriend stuck a familiar self-adhesive bow on the bottle's cap.

    Roy gave Ada a subtle smile (she loved when he did that) before handing the newly embellished medication over to his niece. "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you!" Phoebe grinned up at him, leaning the back of her head against Ada's stomach.

"You're welcome."

"See?" Ada smiled. "Feels better than showing up at that kid's house and beating him up, right?"

"The kid's still a prick."

"You can't judge someone for who they were yesterday."

Roy just shrugged.

She tensed. "I'm serious. He could be a good kid who did a pricky thing. Maybe he needs good people to teach him what isn't okay."

"Doesn't change that he's a prick."

Phoebe's eyes darted between them.

Ada sniffed. "What if I decide that I'm really protective of him?"

She and Roy stared at each other.

He watched as her eyes searched his soul for something, and hated that he couldn't figure out what it was. Because he loved her, and wanted to put it on display if he had it. And if he didn't, then couldn't he pretend? Couldn't they pretend? For five more minutes? He loved her. Five more minutes.

Ada slowly started to frown at him. Like she was mourning something that wasn't dead.

Roy didn't like it. "Oi," He whirled around just as pharmacist began locking up again. "You got any poster board and markers?" The man was unimpressed. "For another hundred quid?"

"What are you doing?" Ada mumbled. And she repeated the question when the pharmacist came back with the requested items. And again when Roy started walking, forcing her and Phoebe to follow after him like dependant ducklings. And again, What are you doing?, when he took them back to house number three.

"Pit stop, alright? Stay here." He ordered her and Phoebe once they made it to the grand home, not giving her the chance to ask the dreaded question again before he walked away from them and jogged up the steps.

Ada and Phoebe watched as Roy rang the doorbell. And they watched as the maid answered once more. And they watched as he handed her an envelope – the two thousand pounds that they didn't end up winning because, as it turned out, door number ten housed a dentist.

Ada's heart hurt. She didn't know why, but it did. And as if sensing it, Phoebe interlocked their fingers for what must have been the hundredth time that day.

"Why did Uncle Roy give her a present?" The little girl asked as her uncle made his way back down the steps, rolled up sheets of poster board still in his grasp.

Ada wiped away a stray tear that somehow managed to slip before giving Phoebe's hand a tight squeeze. "Because he's good."

(Why did that hurt to say?)

She didn't ask what he was doing when he took them to the nearby park. Didn't question it when he started writing on the poster paper in thick, black letters. Didn't wonder what he was teaching Phoebe when he had her rehearse holding up the signs.

Ada checked her watch as Roy led them to yet another house, this one just outside his neighbourhood. Her train was set to board within the next hour.

"Alright." Roy cleared his throat. "Ring the doorbell, then."

Phoebe heeded the demand, rushing over to press the installed buzzer before once again taking her place between the two adults.

A little boy with honey coloured hair and big, brown eyes lazily swung the front door open. His eyes immediately widened at the sight of his classmate, Ada Tartt, and Roy Kent stood right by the fence's entrance.

"Who is it?" The boy's dad called out.

Ada bit the inside of her cheek when Roy started playing Silent Night on his phone. And she shook her head when Phoebe held up the first sheet of poster paper.

"SAY IT'S CAROL SINGERS."

Bernard frowned. "It's carol singers!"

"Just give em a quid and tell em to bugger off!" The man yelled in an annoyed tone of voice, one that wasn't appropriate for Christmas day. It made Ada bristle for some reason.

Phoebe nudged her slightly, handing over the first sheet so that she could now hold up the second.

"BERNARD,
YOU HURT MY FEELINGS.

SHAME ON YOU!"

Ada glanced over at Roy as Phoebe kept handing her slips of poster paper, not believing that he wrote any of this.

He was already looking at her.

"A VERY NICE DENTIST
PRESCRIBED MEDICINE,

THAT SHOULD FIX MY STINKY
BREATH IN 48 TO 72 HOURS."

Bernard shifted on his feet as Phoebe gave him a stern look.

"HOWEVER, UNLESS YOU MAKE AMENDS, YOU WILL STINK FOREVER!

YOU STILL HAVE TIME TO GROW.
ACCOUNTABILITY IS COOL."

Ada slowly shook her head and visibly bit back a smile. The barely there expression was enough to balm the sting of self hatred inside Roy, and it was enough to assure him that he would've gone to Manchester had his sister not called – because it would've made this girl happy. And it would've made her smile big. And because she only ever had to ask him a favour one time and he would fucking do it.

If Jamie Tartt was that little prick, Bernard, and if their hatred of each other was Phoebe's breath, then all Roy wanted was for him and Ada to stay him and Ada.

Because loving Ada Tartt was like drowning in the middle of the ocean; it was scary, and you didn't know what to do, and you forgot everything you ever learned about swimming and surviving. But it was worth the fucking trip, because it was new and it was exciting and you saw things that you only ever read about. And if you fear drowning and decide to rapidly swim to the surface, if you choose mundane air and leave the water before you're ready, you'll get the fucking bends and die anyway.

Why die without when you could die with?

"IF YOU DONT, YOU'LL
HAVE TO DEAL WITH HIM"
→

Roy slowly turned away from his girlfriend to menacingly growl at the intimated schoolboy.

"AND HER"
←

Ada gave Bernard a reassuring smile, one that she hoped was comforting enough. She didn't know who lived with this kid, didn't know who tucked him to sleep and how hard they twisted his ear when necessary. But he was a child, and that meant that he was good. Or that he still had time to be, if given the chance.

"I FORGIVE YOU.
BUT PLEASE DO BETTER."

Ada sighed and reached for Roy's hand behind Phoebe's back. She squeezed it three times. He fiddled with the ring on her middle finger.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

"I'm sorry, Phoebe." Bernard genuinely expressed, stuffing his cold hands in his pockets.

Phoebe glanced up at Ada, who could only offer her a shrug. She then glanced at Roy, who begrudgingly mimicked the clueless gesture.

The girl looked back to her classmate, the tormentor whose heart was still a thing that beat and whose mouth could spurt apologies as well as snark. She finally gave him a double thumbs up.

Because she thought he was good.

"Merry Christmas, Bernie!" Ada called out as Phoebe grabbed her and Roy by the hand and began dragging them away.

He stared after them. "Uh, yeah, okay, Merry Christmas, Ada Tartt!"

✷

"I really have to go."

Roy nodded, adjusting his grip on his niece. He'd never admit that she was growing up and getting heavy. "Should've left a while ago, actually."

Ada ran a hand through her hair, briefly glancing over at the little girl who was worth staying for. She was fighting to keep her eyes open, head burrowed in her uncle's neck as the three of them lingered on the pavement just a few streets away from Bernard's house.

   "Maybe I should have," She chanced a look at her watch. "Don't think I'll make it to me house and then to the station in time."

    They hadn't seen a single taxi so far, and they had no car seeing as they'd decided to walk from Ada's house to Roy's neighbourhood earlier today (Phoebe had demanded sunshine, something about being a plant on the inside).

    "You'll make it." He mumbled, staring at something over her shoulder.

    "Didn't take you for an optimist," Ada snorted. "Christmas miracle, innit?"

   The real Christmas miracle was that Roy had texted Ted Lasso (okay, fine, he texted Rebecca Welton and asked her to tell Ted Lasso) when they were at the park, letting him know that Ada would need a ride to the station and that her travel bag was still at her house.

    It had pained him to do it (the last thing Roy needed was Lasso coming to him for a favour next – like asking him to help out the team as their former captain, which was a dumb approach that the new school of coaches were taking), but she was worth it, he supposed. There was no way he'd let her spend another Christmas without her mother, not when she and that prick, Jamie, were finally on amazing terms.

   The sound of a car horn beeping caught Ada's attention. She turned her head slightly, and blinked at the sight before her.

    Roy was also in disbelief.

    He wasn't expecting this.

    "Hi, Ada Tartt!" Paul grinned from the driver seat, leaning his head out the window to greet her. "Merry Christmas to you and yours!"

   "Paul?" She tilted her head. And she tilted it even further when Baz and Jeremy forced their faces into view, the two of them popping up from the back seat. "Are you three always together?"

     They didn't seem to hear her. Baz's grin was a wide thing as he waved. "We got your bag from your house, Ada Tartt! The wanker told us where to find the key!"

     Roy rolled his eyes when his girlfriend glanced back at him. "I'll get rid of it." Although, to be fair, hiding it under the welcome matt wasn't exactly sneaky.

    As if suddenly realising what they were implying, Ada quickly turned back to the three men who played a strangely recurring role in her life. "Wait, why do you have me bags again?"

    "We're taking you the station, come on!" Jeremy grinned like a little boy. "Paul's gonna go rocket fast!"

    "No." Roy grunted.

     "Yes, sir, Mr. Kent." The look didn't falter in the slightest. "Oh, shit! I--I meant no, sir, Mr. Kent."

    "Fucking idiots," She airily mused. "You lads give me a second, yeah?"

  "Oh, Ada Tartt," Paul hurriedly spoke before she could turn to her boyfriend. "I feel very guilty, so I have to let you know that Baz took pictures on your bed."

    "What?"

     "It wasn't weird!" Baz quickly defended, sending his best friend a sharp glare. "It was just, like, seminal."

    Roy's eye twitched.

    "We'll talk about it later," She waved them off before focusing her attention back on Roy, the man worth staying for. They stared at each other for a moment before she spoke up. "I wonder how Ted knew to tell them that we'd be standing by a random little boy's house."

He shrugged. "Bet that little prick, Bernard, told a lot of fucking people."

"Oh, well, if it's sweet Bernie, then all is definitely forgiven."

   Roy shot her an unimpressed look, adjusting Phoebe again. She was completely asleep now, strands of blonde hair catching in her mouth. Ada reached a hand out to softly brush them away.

   "Thank you." She whispered to him, gaze trained on the little girl. "I bet there's a million other things you've done for me that I don't know about." Her eyes slowly met his own. "Thank you for all of it."

   (Roy knew that all the things he did for her in secret could never amount to all the things she'd done for him out in the open. He didn't want her thanks, he just wanted her. Always, and not a single day less than that.)

   "I would've come with you."

     "I know." Ada smiled slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

    "No, I mean it. I didn't before, but I do now." He mumbled against her mouth. But he immediately regretted saying anything when he felt her stiffen.

    (Roy had meant to say that he was going to miss her tonight, that was all. But the mild epiphany from when they were outside Bernard's house, the realisation that he would've come to make her happy, managed to travel from the forefront of his mind to the tip of his tongue without consent. All he wanted to say was that he was going to miss her. That was it, nothing else. He'd just wanted to ask her for five more minutes.) 

    She felt her gut twist in an ugly way. And her heart was hurting again.

    "What?"

    (They'd made these plans weeks ago, and she'd asked him a dozen times if he was sure. Because Ada wasn't even halfway through her twenties and never had a serious boyfriend before, how was she supposed to know when the appropriate time to meet her mother was? And he'd been comforting and warm and reassuring and so very Roy. He told her he was in, and that he wanted to come, and that it was all good.

    Was he lying the entire time?)

    "Were you lying the entire time?"

    Roy felt his brain lag, and all he could do was slowly shake his head. No, he wasn't lying. Maybe he thought he was, and maybe he did feel a faint relief earlier today when his sister called, but that was all momentary. Nothing about his devotion to this relationship was that brief.

He wasn't lying when they made these plans, Roy always wanted to know more about Ada Tartt if he could.

    He wasn't lying.

    So why not just say that to her?

    Ada's eyes darted all over his face. "Roy, why would you lie about wanting to meet my family?" He opened his mouth to say something but she wasn't done. "What happened to always saying what we want to say? That was the deal. I would've understood if you just told me that you weren't ready."

    And she truly would have, he knew that. Because she was always understanding and good and honest and so very Ada.

    "Did your sister even get called into surgery?"

(It was an unfair question. Molly Kent loved her daughter very much, and she wouldn't have abandoned her on Christmas just so Roy could get out of a one night trip to Manchester. But Ada didn't know what to believe anymore. Maybe she was being dramatic. Roy loved her, she knew that. Still, was that always going to be enough?)

"Listen, I fucking worded it wrong," He assured her. "I love you."

She stared up at him, smile tight and broken on her face and eyes teary for some reason. "Yeah?"

(Of course, she believed him, but it hurt to hear, she didn't know why.)

"Oi," He shook his head. "I would've come. My sister got called in. I would've come."

(He knew he was being honest.)

"Ada Tartt!" Jeremy hesitantly called out. "Uh, your train. . ."

Ada remembered nodding. And she remembered kissing Phoebe's sleeping head goodbye, and whispering that she'd bring her back something German. She remembered kissing Roy goodbye, too. Because she planned on knowing and loving him for twice as long as she'd ever hated him.

(And also because she learned to never skip town on bitter terms. And there was also the fact that she wasn't mad at him, just a little hurt. Not because he lied about wanting to come earlier today, everyone fucking lied at some point, but why he lied – to protect her feelings. Didn't he know that Ada's favourite thing about him was his honesty? That the reason she enjoyed being his enemy was because his criticisms and barbs always harboured truths? And that the reason she enjoyed being his girlfriend was because he protected her with his body and eyes and never with reassuring falsehoods?

But she could forget that minor error in judgement, because she knew his main incentive to lie wasn't to ensure she wasn't hurt, but to ensure they didn't fight over the real reason he was hesitant about the trip; Jamie. And that stung, too. Not because they were still feuding like children, she already knew that, but because the point of tonight was to fix it.

Or to try, at least.

Roy said he would try.)

The ride to the train station was a short one. It mainly consisted of Baz showing her the selfies he took at her house, Jeremy telling her about his plan to win the Guinness World Record for most Adam's apple bobs managed in a minute, and Paul playing a lot of Gwen Steffani songs.

It was all relatively tame when compared to her other encounters with the trio, but wild when compared to the three hour train ride to Manchester – and that was saying something, because Ada ended up sitting next to the zoologist and his pet Boa. As it turned out, the man was a relatively shy and quiet fellow, and he spent the entire journey immersed in his novel of choice; The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks.

(Roy, Roy, Roy.)

There was a knot in her neck and a pulse in her temple by the time she made it to her neighbourhood, having hitched a ride home from the group of drag queens protesting Christmas outside of Piccadilly.

(Roy, Roy, Roy.)

"Hey, thanks for this." She told them, hauling her duffle bag up to her lap as the car rolled to a stop.

The drag queen behind the wheel turned to her, a lit cigarette in her rouged mouth and an amused glint in her powdered eyes. "Don't worry about it."

Ada shot them a smile. "Merry Christmas." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, fuck, sorry. Never mind. You hate Christmas."

"But we love you, Ada Tartt."

"Yeah?" She snorted, opening up the car door and stretching her legs out. "Fuck it, I love you, too."

(Roy, Roy, Roy.)

✷

    (Home, home, home.)

     It took three, twisty ginnels and an abandoned tunnel and two winding, stair cases for Ada to arrive at the public dwelling she called home.

   It all looked the same, nothing had changed since she last visited (which was admittedly long before the accident). The third street lamp still flickered every seventeen seconds. The white lines on the zebra crossing were still dangerously faded. The council houses were still stuck to each other, meaning there was never any privacy between neighbours – and that poor Georgie had wasted so many years and so much of her breath apologising for footballs being kicked into other people's gardens.

   The stern No Ball Games sign, firmly drilled into the brick wall across the road, burned a hole in Ada's back as she stood in front of her childhood home. She'd knocked on eleven stranger's doors today, and this one was somehow the most jarring.

   Until she remembered why it was that home never scared her.

    "Ada!" Simon merrily greeted, swinging the door open and quickly wrapping her up in his arms. The ironically ugly sweater he had on smelt of gingerbread. "Oh, God, I thought you were a reindeer!"

     She made sure to hug him back, and ignored how he briefly stiffened in shock at the gesture. "Pretty sure Father Christmas left hours ago."

     "Oh, no," He pulled away, but kept his hands on her shoulders in case she wanted to go in for another hug. "They're saying there's a reindeer loose in the neighbourhood."

   "And you thought it was knocking on your door, then, Simon?"

   The man didn't get the chance to respond, because the sound of feet hurriedly bounding down the stairs interrupted his train of thought.

    "Ada!"

    She couldn't help but laugh as her mother rushed over, pushing her boyfriend over in the process. And she couldn't help how her eyes welled when Georgie pulled her into the most tender and heartwarming embrace, the sort of embrace that embraced you in your entirety; flaws and all. And Ada couldn't help but burrow her face in her mum's neck when she started caressing the back of her head – the way she used to do after a bad game or a horrible weekend with Grandma Tartt or when she and Jamie had a cold.

    "I missed you." Ada mumbled.

     Georgie felt her bottom lip tremble, and she squeezed the life out of her first born. To assure her that she was always missed and loved and thought of and cared about in this house.

   "Dinner will be ready soon." Simon lightly interrupted, a small smile on his face as he took the scene in. He knew how much Georgie needed this, and it was obvious that little Ada did, too. Calling each other over face time and seeing each other at the rare football match wasn't the same.

   (It wasn't home.)

   Georgie shot him a grateful look as she continued rocking her daughter, letting him know they'd be in soon. She grabbed Ada by the cheeks and took her in; the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen. And the smartest. And the strongest, too.

  Little Ada, who used to run in the garden like a crazy person and who would spurt the most random facts whilst getting ready for school and who used to help her brother with his spelling before starting on her own homework.

    She was so good.

   Every mother believed that her children would grow up to be great, but Georgie always knew that hers would become greats. Both of them, James and Adeline. Her babies. Her twins, who she knew were back to being twins. They were the very best of her.

    (When Georgie was younger, perhaps a bit more naive, she thought the greatest pain in the world would be watching the man you loved turn into someone else. It wasn't until her children stopped being friends and until her son felt too ashamed to face her and until her daughter lost herself that she felt true pain.

   And she used to think that watching Jamie and Ada make names for themselves was the most rewarding feeling in the world, until they told her that they were now both representing Richmond AFC and they were close again and that they spent their lunch breaks together every day of the week.

    The two of them were made for each other. Georgie's body knew that. It knew she would be busy working and taking classes, and it knew that one child wouldn't be able to take the pressure of life without a built in best friend. Her body knew it before she did, and it made sure there was two babies instead of one. It made sure that Baby B held onto Baby A's ankle, and that a bond was formed in the womb. A bond that would protect them in life.

    The bond was still a sibling bond, though. And Baby B still annoyed the absolute shit out of Baby A.)

    "Ada," Jamie whined from somewhere inside the house. "Will you hurry the fuck up? Me stomach's about to eat itself!"

     Georgie snorted when her daughter let out a groan. "Oh, don't be that way. He's been excited for you to come over."

    "You're lying," Ada shot her a knowing look as they finally made it past the doorway. "He's been dreading tonight for weeks."

    "Well, that's because he and R--" She paused, suddenly realising that the illusive boyfriend wasn't present. "Where's Roy, babe?"

    Ada fiddled with the strap of her duffle bag, "Family emergency came up."

    "Oh," Georgie frowned in concern. "Well, is everything alright?"

    Jamie came barreling into the hallway before his sister could answer, eyes set rather wide as he gestured to the kitchen with his head. "Mummy. He's done it again."

     Their mother's eyes fluttered shut, and she shot them both a brief look before taking off to deal with the strangely reoccurring incident.

    "Simon burn the gingerbread house again?" Ada snorted, taking a deep whiff of the sweetly spiced air now engulfing the entire house.

    "I keep telling him to make fucking cheese cake or something." Jamie shrugged, taking her duffle bag from her and letting it hang from the coat hook by its strap. "Easier to make, innit?"

    "How the fuck would I know?"

     "You were on Bake Off." Jamie pointed out, following after her as they made for the kitchen, where Georgie was rubbing her boyfriend's shoulder and opening up the windows.

    "I'm sorry, everyone. No gingerbread tonight." Simon frowned, placing the baked chicken in the middle of the perfectly set table. "I forgot to pull the chicken out beforehand. You know, they don't bake at the same temperature."

    "I didn't know that." Georgie lied in an effort to make him feel better.

     "I didn't know that." Jamie confessed, slipping into the chair beside his sister. The seating arrangement was another thing that never changed in this time capsule of a home.

    "I did know that." Ada shrugged. Her mother shot her a look. "But I like being reminded. Cheers, Simon."

     The man smiled and took his place across from her. He handed Georgie the carving knife, turning to face her children as she got to cutting. "So, Greyhounds! Big game tomorrow, eh?"

    "Don't remind me," Their mother mumbled as she sliced the white meat. "I never get to see my babies."

     Jamie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, you would've seen us for longer if Ada took the train with me."

    "Fuck off, JJ." She snapped, poking his side with her index finger. He always hated that. "I was busy."

    "With the boyfriend." Simon clapped excitedly. And then he stilled. "Wait, where is Roy Kent? Is he doing one of those surprise entrances, like in the 2011 match against Liverpool?"

    Jamie pretended not to remember that exact moment in perfect detail, and instead turned to face his sister. He hadn't mentioned Roy's obvious absence for fear of coming off haughty or condescending (after all, he'd already made it well known that he didn't want the man coming with them), but couldn't help but be curious. And he couldn't help but worry, too – he knew Ada really wanted him here. And that she loved him a disgusting amount.

    "Family emergency." Georgie sighed, plating everyone's portion of chicken. "It's alright, we'll see him next year, innit? Me house is always open. Maybe me own kids will start visiting, too."

     Ada shifted in her chair – at both the prospect of her and Roy being together come next Christmas, and the guilt that came with never stopping by to see her mother.

    "Sorry, mummy." She and Jamie muttered in unison, shooting their mum identical smiles, like children who drew on the walls and wanted none of the repercussions. It was a look that always worked on Georgie.

    The woman shot them her own smile.

    Simon loved how they all grinned in the same exact way.

    Gingerbread fire aside, the rest of dinner went by rather smoothly. Georgie and Simon recounted the turbulent tale of their Christmas Eve, which they'd spent at Simon's brother's house a few hours south; it involved kiwi allergies and a trip to the ER and pink champagne. The twins went on to explain their week, which mostly consisted of training and matches (Simon asked for insider details, their mother pretended to know what they were talking about) and Ted Lasso taking them out to eat duck for the first time.

    "We'll do the dishes, my love." Georgie assured Simon once they wrapped up. "You've been in here for eleven hours."

   "I wouldn't mind being in here forever, Georgie, you know that." He smiled, reaching for the dirty plates. His partner slapped his hands away and gently nudged him towards the door. "Alright, alright. I'll go clean the living room."

   "Or you could sit, mate." Jamie suggested from his new place on the kitchen counter.

    "Sofas were invented in 1686, Simon." Ada mumbled, rinsing a dish in the sink as her mother began stacking used cups. "Go relish in it, yeah?"

    Her family exchanged a look behind her back, none of them knowing what the appropriate response to that would be.

   "Uh, yes," Simon eventually nodded with a laugh. "I shall do that! Cheers."

     "You're welcome."

    Georgie eyed her daughter once it was just the three of them, and she shot Jamie a gentle look, asking him to leave for a bit. He pursed his lips and did as told, swiping a cluster of grapes before making his exit.

    "So," Georgie cleared her throat, resuming her clean up for the table. "Roy had a family emergency."

    "Yeah," Ada nodded. "He said he would've come, but, you know. His sister got called in to assist on a surgery. She's a new intern, so it's a big deal for her. He's taking care of his niece."

    "A man that puts his family first is a good man." Her mother mused, setting two more plates in the soapy sink. "Perfect for you."

   "He is good." Ada agreed, scrubbing at a stubborn stain with a combo sponge. "I guess it's stupid to be upset about him not being here, innit? I'd probably stay behind if I had to take care of Jamie's kid."

   "You'd probably stay behind to take care of Jamie."

   Ada had to smile at that, playfully rolling her eyes when Georgie nudged their hips together. "Hey," Her mother went on to say in a more serious tone – not stern, but wise and understanding. The kind of tone that Ada liked to channel sometimes. "It's never stupid to be upset. When you feel something, you have to feel it all the way through. Emotions are good, embracing them is good."

   ("And sometimes being your own enemy can mean hiding how you truly feel in the hope that you conform to the idea of goodness." Sharon had said earlier today, like someone who knew everything.)

   "Emotions aren't people," Georgie mused. "They don't have to be compatible to beautifully coexist."

    Ada stilled, eying the suds of soap pooling in the papillary ridges of her fingers. "You ever think about being a therapist?"

    Her mother snorted like a child, and perched herself on the counter like a teenager. "I don't see any more jobs in me future if we're being completely honest with each other."

      The girl's mind drifted to house number three – to the young maid working there on Christmas day. She must have been around Ada's age, maybe even younger. Young, but still older than Georgie was when she started working.

  It was so easy for Ada to forget that she was currently older than her mother was when she became a mother. That she was living the life young Georgie could've only dreamt about. That it was because of Christmas days spent cleaning houses and weekends spent checking out groceries and summers spent in humid launderettes, that it was because of all the sacrifices made, that Ada Tartt ended up being Ada Tartt.

   "I don't know how you did it, mummy." Ada slowly shook her head. "Raising two kids as a kid. All by yourself. No help." She turned to Georgie. "I couldn't have done it. I'm too selfish for motherhood, I think."

    Georgie couldn't help but laugh. She didn't want to, because this conversation felt quite serious, but there was something so ridiculous about Ada saying she was too selfish to be a mother. This was the same girl that would put her twin brother to sleep every night. Who'd let him blow out the one candle on their shared cake at every birthday party. Who would sit at that kitchen table and read her thick encyclopaedia just so she could entertain the kids on the bus with facts. Who approached a naughty outcast of a boy named Skinhead Sid and dubbed him her best friend.

    "Ada." She gently cupped the side of her face. Always so warm, her daughter. Skin golden and true. "You were born a mother. And it wasn't fair on you, but you did it."

    "It wasn't fair on you either."

     (Working on Christmas. Not seeing her kids as much as she wanted to. Losing so many friends, not solely because of the stigma on young mothers, but because she had no time to maintain those bonds. Working on Christmas. Letting James Tartt in and out of her life, for her children's sake more than her own. Working on Christmas.)

    Georgie shrugged, brushing Ada's light hair back so that it wouldn't bother her eyes. "You and I are both happy now. That's all that matters."

    Having your daughter leave home before you were ready to let her go was one thing. Seeing her lose her passion was another. Seeing her lose herself, and having to witness it all through online clips and controversial tabloid articles – there was nothing like it.

    But she was glowing now. Her cheeks had filled out and her laugh was loud and her hair had more life to it. She looked like Ada.

    "Tartt women, who knew we had it in us." The girl hummed, setting the last plate on the drying rack before moving on to the cups. Then she paused. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

     "No." Georgie joked, softly tilting her head in a go on gesture.

     "Why did you keep his name?"

       Ada knew that Rebecca took back the name Welton after divorcing Rupert. And that Molly Kent had never even considered taking Phoebe's father's last name, not when she had plans to become a well renowned surgeon. So why did Georgie, who'd been betrayed more times than one could count on both hands, keep the name Tartt?

     "Because it's your name." Her mother reminded her, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "And Jamie's. I love you and your brother more than I hate the reminders of him."

     That sounded somewhat familiar.

      (Roy, Roy, Roy.)

       "Did you ever think that you and dad would be together forever?" She hated how childish the question felt, but couldn't stop herself from asking it. Her gut still felt really weird.

     Georgie cocked a curious brow.

      "Sometimes I feel like I mourn things before they end." Ada confessed, sighing when her mother caressed her cheek.

   "You're a woman, baby. It's what we do."

     "Yeah, but I'm Ada. I've never cared before." That earned her another raised eyebrow. "It's just that. . .some people say you never notice how beautiful a moment is until you look back at it. Because, like, the human mind just can't register emotions and recognise worth in present time." She waited for Georgie to nod before continuing. "It's not like that when I'm with Roy. I always know it's beautiful, and I don't want it to ever end, mummy."

     Georgie had to laugh again, but it was more of an amused huff this time. Her children's lives were centred around football, a game of wins and losses and begrudged ties. They sometimes forgot that life was just life.

    "It won't end, Ada."

    "It will if he and Jamie never learn to get on. I couldn't live with that."

    "Don't you worry about that." Her mother, such a youthful spirit with such a wise mind, scoffed with a wave of her hand. "It'll work itself out."

    "You don't know that." Ada stubbornly shook her head, focusing back on the stained cutlery.

     "I'm your mum, Ada. I know everything."

    Georgie also knew that her children were Tartts, and Tartts got whatever they wanted. Jamie had wanted to be mentored by Roy Kent since he was a boy, and now the football legend was dating his sister. It was only a matter of time before his wish came true. And Ada, all she ever wanted was a big family – one that her twin could always be apart of. She loved Roy Kent, he would be her family one day if she willed it. And she would get what she wanted.

"I'm sorry if I was ever difficult."

Georgie blinked at the abruptness of that sentence, looking to her daughter. "Difficult?" She echoed. "You?"

"Yeah, I know I can be too much."

"Ada," She tutted. "You were good. Always. Better than good."

"Nothing's better than good."

"You are." Georgie smiled warmly. She watched Ada bite at her bottom lip, clearly trying to hide the little quiver. There would be no crying in this house, not on Christmas day. "But you'd be even better if you could hurry it up with the dishes, yeah?"

Ada let out a wet laugh, and flicked some soapy water at her mother.

"You bitch!" Georgie gasped, grabbing a drying cup and quickly filling it with water.

"Don't!"

Jamie and Simon met eyes in the living room. And then they slowly turned to face the kitchen, where girly screeches echoed out like smoke alarms.

Simon hadn't heard Georgie laugh like that in ages. She'd giggle with Jamie whenever he visited (which he hadn't done since long before Richmond got relegated, the boy didn't like seeing his mother when he had James Tartt sitting on his left shoulder), but squeals of youthful laughter only came out when she was with her daughter.

Ada was Georgie's best friend. For a long time, she'd been her only friend. Her mini me, to whom she'd gifted her favourite clothing pieces and her favourite CDs and her favourite magazines.

   Of course, she was still her mother, and there was always a certain boundary; one that was put up to ensure Ada always respected her, and to ensure that the existence of consequences was acknowledged.

"Mum, fuck off!"

Jamie sighed and flicked through the channels. "You never tell mum to fuck off during a water fight. She'll pull out the hose."

Simon could only blink.

✷

Ada woke up to him looming over her this morning, and now she was going to sleep with him hanging right above her fucking head. It was an intimating thing, in truth. Her boyfriend looked ruthless. Ada remembered staring right at him when boys took her on this bed – remembered how, even though she loathed that poster with a fiery passion, it was that same heat that kept her satisfied whilst being poked in the gut by idiots.

She only looked away from the wall when she felt her bed start to shift. "Jamie, fuck off." She groaned, hating the way his cold feet kicked at her calves. "We don't fucking fit in the same bed anymore."

"Oh, come on. It's like the womb."

"You fucking child." Ada squeezed her eyes shut and turned away from the wall to face him. Her brother had a flashlight in his mouth, and in his hand was a familiar ziplock, filled to the brim with purple skittles. "Did you go through me stuff?"

Jamie ignored her question, instead offering a rebuttal to her insult. "I'm a child? You bring nothing but fucking sweets and a doll to spend the night."

"Okay, first of all, they're not just sweets, alright? They're--" She paused. "Did you say doll?"

Jamie rolled his eyes, dropping his self proclaimed necessities onto the bed before slipping off her mattress. Ada watched as he walked over to her duffle bag and rummaged through it for a second.

"How the fuck does someone get footballed to death?"

"What?" She mumbled, sitting up and reaching her hand out. Jamie tossed the doll over and took her distracted state as an opportunity to hide under her covers.

The doll had short hair. And sunkissed skin. And she was wearing the red and white shirt. Her certificate said that her names was Jade. And that she died in 2005 after being tragically footballed.

   ("You want it?" He'd patiently asked her, eyes soft despite his obvious irritation. Roy Kent in a fucking doll store.

     Ada had laughed, and she'd kissed his warm mouth like it would heal everything. "No, maybe when they make a British Girl doll that got footballed to death in some way, yeah? That was always me childhood dream.")

     "Hey," Jamie whispered, his words muffled as he hid under her weighted blanket. "It feels like when we were kids."

    She stared at the doll for a moment longer, her first doll ever, before slipping under the duvet to be with him. The flashlight and the skittles and her twin brother who was insistent on staying; he was right, it did feel like their childhood.

    "I don't know if I ever felt like a kid." Ada couldn't help but snort, popping three pieces of candy in her mouth.

     (To say that Ada Tartt wasn't loved as a child would be unfair and untrue. But to say that she felt unloved, even if it was just an hour a week, and even if nobody caused her to feel that way, would be accurate. And true. And real. She'd always felt so old. Withered, even. Football helped. Her mother helped. Her brother helped. Her friends helped. But it was something that couldn't be helped.)

     Jamie shrugged. "I've never felt like a grown up." He absentmindedly fiddled with the flashlight. "Always felt a little. . ."

    "You're the smartest person I know, Jamie."

     He slow turned to her, and he smiled. But then he frowned. "I'm gonna tell you something and you can't judge me, alright? No Coach Tartt."

     "You wanna go for a smoke?"

      Jamie's eyes widened in disbelief. "How the fuck did you know?"

      "Twin telepathy, innit?" Ada shrugged, zipping up the bag of skittles and throwing the blanket off of them. "Put your jacket on, and be quiet, we don't wanna wake mummy or Simon."

    "Aye," He scoffed, padding across the room to put his coat on. "I've snuck out of here before, alright?"

      Down the hall, Simon and Georgie heard hissing. And they heard someone bump into a wall. And they heard a low cackle. And two pairs of feet tiptoe across the wooden landing and clumsily run down the stairs.

    "Should we--"

     Georgie shook her head and turned to lay on her side. "They'll be alright."

     They weren't alright. All the off licenses were closed, and as athletes, Jamie and Ada didn't keep any cigarettes on their person. The only place they knew they'd find nicotine was under Moe's Bridge, where a teenaged Ada once buried a sealed pack of hand rolling tobacco.

    They underestimated how difficult it would be to get there in the cold, especially with wet snow all over the ground.

    "You know," Jamie panted as they descended the steep, concrete staircase which led to their desired destination. "I don't even want to smoke anymore."

   "I don't either," Ada whined, gripping onto his arm. It was hard enough to find stability with a shitty femur, but to do so with icy stairs? "But we're already fucking here."

    Her brother swallowed thickly, wearily eying the dark space. It was very hard to believe that they willingly came here as children. "What if Finchy shows up?"

    "It's fucking Christmas."

     "You think he knows that?"

      Old Man Finch, or Joseph Finch, was a retired military man whose mind was no longer what it used to be. He lived a little ways away from this very bridge, and patrolled the area like a Hellish guard dog many nights a week, threatening to give kids a hiding if he caught them smoking or drinking.

    "Shine the light over here." Ada ordered, ignoring his paranoid mutterings as she scoured the grass for her buried treasure.

    "Did you hear that?"

     "Jamie," Her eye twitched. "Would you fucking--" She stilled when she heard it, the sound of a twig snapping under someone's body weight. Jamie shot her a look that was both cocky and frightened – how he managed to do that, she would never know.

   Ada felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Someone was watching her, she knew it. The entire area was pitch black beyond their shitty flashlight, and neither one of them brought a phone.

    "Boo!"

    "Ahh!" The twins yelled at the same time, tripping over their feet and roughly hitting the floor. They watched as a figure appeared from the dark, a flashlight shining under their chin like a figment of fucking fiction.

    "You should have seen your faces!" He cackled. "Fuck me, it was worth the fucking trip down here."

     "Skinhead?" Ada panted, placing a hand to her heaving chest.

    "Alright, Tartt?" Her childhood best friend wondered, reaching a hand out to help her up. He leaned in to kiss her once she was stable, but Jamie clambered to his feet and clapped hand over his mouth.

    "Boyfriend." The striker breathily reminded him, heart still beating rather rapidly. "Fuck, we thought you were Finchy."

    "Is it the hair?"

    Ada eyed the ginger buzzcut, very reminiscent of a soldier. Of course, her friend lacked the discipline to ever join the army. But, then again, she supposed that he did have that innate ability to surprise you; sneak attacks on the pitch, jump scares, slipping his tongue into your mouth when innocently kissing on the playground, and, now, growing out his hair. A surprise, indeed.

  He'd been bald all her life, Skinhead Sid.

   He noticed her staring at his head and forked his fingers through the short strands. "Don't fucking look at me like that, you idiot." He scoffed. "You cunts saw me hair in year two, stop acting surprised!"

    Ada and Jamie exchanged a look before the latter shrugged. "Yeah, but we figured it was just a phase, didn't we?"

    Sid shoved Jamie back, and the striker slipped on the damp grass and landed on the floor. Ada snorted. Sid shoved her, too. And then he plopped down beside them before anyone had the chance to return the favour.

    "Merry Christmas." He told his two friends.

    Ada glared at him and wiped a speck of mud from her cheek. "Aren't you Jewish?"

     "No, I'm Jew-ish." Sid reached a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a paper bag. "Means I enjoy an Adam Sandler movie."

    "Makes sense." Jamie mumbled. He then noticed what was in his friend's hand. "Aye! A gift from Corno's?"

    Ada quickly sat up. "Did you bring the cakes, Skinhead?"

    It was a tradition for them to get high under the bridge and eat about forty Eccles cakes each (Sid would steal them straight from the oven at Corno's, the bakery that his father used to run). They weren't high right now, and Corno's belonged to Sid instead of his old man, but they were under the bridge and they were fucking hungry – Jamie and Ada both had a gingerbread shaped void in their bellies.

    "A fucking gift?" Sid stared at them incredulously. "With the way yous are overpaid? Fuck off, I wanna see all the cash you've got."

     "Are you high?" Ada asked, noting the red in his eyes.

     "And fucking brassic, mate!" He scoffed. "Go on, pay up or it's me eating and you two watching."

    Jamie begrudgingly pulled his wallet from the front pocket of his winter coat. They watched as he dumped all the cash out. About eighty notes poured out, all of them twenties.

    "Richmond not paying you?" Sid joked, shoving the money in his pocket. He then pocketed the fallen condom. "And fucking you over?"

    Ada snorted, which attracted her friend's attention. He blinked at her expectantly. She rolled her eyes. "I didn't bring any money with me."

   He tutted. "No money, no kiss. It's like you hate me or something."

    "I love you, you dick."

      Jamie rolled his eyes. "Give us the fucking cakes, yeah? I paid for the both of us."

     Sid found it all very familiar. The Tartt twins being responsible for each other as he tormented them. It was good to know that fame hadn't changed them – well, that was not true, Jamie'd been a right fucking arsehole and Ada disappeared, but that was alright. He wasn't a naive guy, he knew it could get to people's heads. Fuck, the money he just snagged from his best mate's wallet was already filling him with a sense of tyranny.

    "Eat up, peasants." He sighed, tossing the bag over and lying back on the grass. "Save me a bit, though."

    "So, you're high. Any wisdom?" Jamie wondered, shovelling the flaky pastry in his mouth. When they were younger, Sid swore that cannabis opened up his third eye and allowed for him to see beyond their realm of childish nonsense.

    (On the twins' fifteenth birthday, he got so high that he saw Bob Dylan as a biker. And that led to him buying a tattoo gun and giving Jamie and Ada harmonica tattoos on their forearms – "Free of charge, Bobby would be in a real fucking strop if I made you pay.")

    "Ask me your question and I shall give you me answer." Sid yawned. He then left his mouth wide open. Ada reached over and popped a cake in it. He sucked her fingers. She flicked his forehead really hard. "Fuck!"

   "I was trying to open your third eye, Skinhead. Stop being a fucking baby."

    Jamie ignored their squabbling, thinking of a question he could ask. "Er, alright, Richmond winning tomorrow's match or what?"

    "That's boring." Ada shook her head. "We only get one fucking question." She turned to her childhood best friend. "Hey, Skinny, I'm really desperate, alright? Gonna need you to explain life to me. In one word, if you can. I wanna understand."

    Skinhead Sid slowly nodded his head, swallowing his last bit of Eccles. "Not one word. But three."

     "Go on then." She nodded.

      "It just is."

       They sat with that for a moment. Ada pursed her lips. Sid shut his eyes, the weed hitting home. Jamie was just confused.

     "Did he say injustice?"

       Ada opened her mouth, and whether she was going to insult her brother or patiently repeat was Sid said, nobody would ever know. Because they all heard the twig snap. And they all felt two eyes staring at them from somewhere in the inky blackness.

    "Fuck! It's Finch!" Jamie yelped.

     All three of them booked it for the stairs, Ada with an arm thrown over each boy's shoulder in order to keep up – her right leg was already stinging from their slow descent, no doubt running from a mean, old soldier would have her blacking out.

   Except it wasn't a mean old soldier that had intruded on them under the bridge.

    It was a reindeer.

    And it was devouring a soiled bag of hand rolling tobacco.

    "Hey," Ada panted as they continued running towards safety. "Either of you know where I can get something German?"

⚽️: No comment.

⚽️: Like, actually.