fic: not even dreaming
Jun. 7th, 2025 01:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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beagoldfishTitle: not even dreaming
Rating & Warnings: gen, no warnings apply
Relationship(s) roy kent/keeley jones/jamie tartt
Character(s):Summary: Roy and Keeley get a delivery.
Read on AO3 or my journal.
“Jamie,” Roy says when the call picks up. “Why do we have a delivery from you?”
“Er, it’s called a gift, mate. Fucking hello to you, too.”
“Sorry, hi.” Roy calls Keeley in from the dining room and switches him to speaker. “Jamie’s on. Sent us a gift.”
“Oh, that was nice of him.” Then, to Jamie. “Can we open it now?”
“Sure. Stay on though, yeah. Hey, Kid.”
“Hi, babe.” Keeley takes over phone-holding duties, chirping at Jamie across the line while Roy strips away the brown paper.
The gift is a photo. A poster, really. Large, glossy, and shielded in glass with a thin gold frame. The subject, of course, is Jamie. Hi-Def, flushed and grinning in tarnished England whites.
After a moment, Roy swears and Keeley laughs out loud.
“Holy fucking shit,” she says.
“Did you sign it, you prick?”
“Course I did. Gotta return the favour.”
In the corner, scratched in black marker, a message; ‘To the two fittest people I know- Thanks for always watching over me. Yours, Jamie.’
“We are so putting this up,” Keeley says.
--
The next time the stars align in such a way that has Keeley and Roy both off in time to watch Jamie’s match, she posts a selfie across her socials. She’s smiling, with an arm wrapped around Roy’s shoulders. He’s not smiling, but he is dressed in Rangers royal blue. Behind them, on opposite sides of the background, Jamie’s photo on the wall, signature hidden away, and the Rangers match on telly. Captioned ‘Seeing double @jamietartt.’
Rating & Warnings: gen, no warnings apply
Relationship(s) roy kent/keeley jones/jamie tartt
Character(s):Summary: Roy and Keeley get a delivery.
Read on AO3 or my journal.
“Jamie,” Roy says when the call picks up. “Why do we have a delivery from you?”
“Er, it’s called a gift, mate. Fucking hello to you, too.”
“Sorry, hi.” Roy calls Keeley in from the dining room and switches him to speaker. “Jamie’s on. Sent us a gift.”
“Oh, that was nice of him.” Then, to Jamie. “Can we open it now?”
“Sure. Stay on though, yeah. Hey, Kid.”
“Hi, babe.” Keeley takes over phone-holding duties, chirping at Jamie across the line while Roy strips away the brown paper.
The gift is a photo. A poster, really. Large, glossy, and shielded in glass with a thin gold frame. The subject, of course, is Jamie. Hi-Def, flushed and grinning in tarnished England whites.
After a moment, Roy swears and Keeley laughs out loud.
“Holy fucking shit,” she says.
“Did you sign it, you prick?”
“Course I did. Gotta return the favour.”
In the corner, scratched in black marker, a message; ‘To the two fittest people I know- Thanks for always watching over me. Yours, Jamie.’
“We are so putting this up,” Keeley says.
--
The next time the stars align in such a way that has Keeley and Roy both off in time to watch Jamie’s match, she posts a selfie across her socials. She’s smiling, with an arm wrapped around Roy’s shoulders. He’s not smiling, but he is dressed in Rangers royal blue. Behind them, on opposite sides of the background, Jamie’s photo on the wall, signature hidden away, and the Rangers match on telly. Captioned ‘Seeing double @jamietartt.’
