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Call a Responsible Adult (you promised)

Summary:

Jamie is asked to pick Phoebe up from school while her mother and uncle are working.
Jamie's father is released from rehab without Jamie being informed.
Together these facts spell disaster.

Whumptober Day 23: "You'll have to go through me."

Notes:

This fic has been in my brain for months now, since the first Jamie Babysitter fic but then this morning it just fell out of me for Whumptober.
They'll be one fic left in this series (For Day 20: Found Family) which will be a lot more fluff on the fluff whump scale. But I always take prompts and requests!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“Junior!”

 

Jamie freezes in place, like a deer in headlights. There’s only one person in the world that calls him that, even if Jamie would never be able to forget that voice.

“Jamie?” Phoebe whispers, effectively breaking Jamie out of the spell that had fallen over him. Roy had called and said that he was stuck doing press and should be picking up Phoebe. Since the Dom Incident, Jamie was a regular babysitter for Phoebe and he loved it. So when the opportunity came, Jamie eagerly told Roy that he’d look after Phoebe until Uncle Roy was done with his responsibilities. He was responsible for her. Roy would kill him if James hurt her, hell Jamie would help him if she allowed anything to happen to her.

“Get inside, stay away from the windows,” Jamie hurriedly unlocked his front door and maybe too forcefully pushed Phoebe inside.

“Don’t ignore me James,” James Tartt Sr shouted again, far closer. Jamie locked his door with trembling hands. It was just a block of wood but some of the pressure lifted off his chest knowing that even if something was to happen to him, Phoebe would be protected. They were supposed to tell him when his dad was released from rehab. He was supposed to get an update. No one had told him. Jamie’s breath picked up as he turned and saw James walking up Jamie’s drive.

“What are you doing here dad?” Jamie asked. And he did the stupidest thing he had done in a while, Jamie walked towards his dad. James Tartt Sr was striding angrily with a simmering frown crossing his face. Jamie knew his dad’s moods. You learn things like that when you are fighting to survive. The problem here was that James was angry, but he was sober. He was walking with too much purpose and too straight to be drunk. A sober James was far more dangerous than a drunk one. A sober James knew what he was angry about and was still acting in this way.

“Get myself out of treatment and find me son nowhere to be seen don’t I?” James snarls, now within reach to get up in Jamie’s personal space.

“They didn’t tell me, asked em to and everything. Thought they’d ring when you were getting out,” Jamie replied quietly, not admitting that he had asked for that out of fear not out of obligation.

“So I come all this way on the train, like a loon and then find you with some little girl not even inviting your flesh and blood into your house?” the familiar twang of disappointed anger was running through every word James said and Jamie felt himself shrink back into the little walls that he built around his squishy parts.

“Just let me find someone to look after her and then we can go to the pub right?” Jamie whispered, rummaging in his pocket for his phone.

“Don’t want me around huh James? Who’s runt is it anyway? You know better than to get involved with someone with kids don’t you, little leeches,” James laughed, stepping closer to Jamie again.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Jamie hissed, for the first time able to meet his father’s eyes. His dad could talk about Jamie like that, he knew he deserved it. But he would not talk about Phoebe in that way.

“Or you’ll what Jamie? Come on tell me!” James shouted, spit hitting Jamie on the cheek. “You’ll punch me again? Come on do it,” he laughed. Jamie’s free hand balled into a fist but all that did was reveal the tremble. “Ha,” James barked, shaking his head with a grin. “Such a coward. Now I’m tired, I’m going inside and you are going to get rid of that girl and get me a pint.”

“You’ll have to go through me,” Jamie exclaimed viciously. He didn’t know where this flash of courage came from but he would do anything to protect Phoebe. James Tartt Sr would get nowhere near her. He wouldn’t ruin her like he had managed to ruin Jamie.

“Look at what happens when I’m away yeah,” James snarled, batting Jamie’s phone out of his hand with a sharp movement. Jamie flinched, his hand recoiling to his chest as his phone crashed into the gravel, screen broken beyond repair. “My boy forgets everything I taught him. Forgets about his own father. Forgets how to treat his betters. Forgets what’s important here,” he steps closer, so close that Jamie could feel his breath. He couldn’t flinch, he couldn’t look down, he couldn’t look weak. He just needed James to leave and then he could get Phoebe to safety and he could apologise to Roy and he could hide and let all the hurt out. He felt as if he was floating and his brain had detached from the rest of his body. His dad was saying something but Jamie couldn’t hear it. He just needed it to be over. He needed Phoebe to be safe. That was all that mattered.

 

The sting of gravel against his face was what brought Jamie back into the land of the living. James had pushed him, sending him clattering to the floor. His shoulder had taken the brunt of the impact and Jamie could feel the bite of the scrape of the gravel against the side of his face. “Such a fucking loser Jamie. No wonder nobody wants you, nobody needs you,” James loomed over his son. Jamie tried to press himself up with his good arm. The crack echoed through his body like an earthquake as James’ boot slammed into Jamie’s forearm. Jamie cried out in pain and his body crumpled back in the dirt. He cradled his definitely broken arm against his chest. He couldn’t cry. Phoebe needed him, he needed to distract James for long enough that he got bored and then he needed to apologise to Phoebe, to Ruth, to Roy for putting Phoebe at risk. He couldn’t cry. Jamie gritted his teeth and breathed through his nose to try and ward off the pain. “I didn’t come here to do this, I came here to make sure you were ok as there must be some reason that you didn’t come get me,” James sighed, pressing his boot on the side of Jamie’s face, pressing it into the gravel. “What do you say Jamie when you’ve inconvenienced someone?”

“M sorry,” Jamie whimpered, his eyes now screwed shut.

“And Jamie?” his dad growled again.

“It won’t happen again,” Jamie’s voice was barely audible.

“Good lad,” James laughed, the pressure released from the side of his head.

 

“Back the fuck away from him now,” a new voice snarled with death and violence coating every word. Jamie mustered some energy from somewhere to turn his head. James had also turned and both Tartt men found themselves staring at a fuming Roy Kent. If his dad hadn’t also reacted to Roy’s voice, Jamie would have been sure this was a wishful hallucination. So many times he had been beaten and bruised looking up and wishing that Roy Kent would climb out of the poster on his wall and tell his dad to fuck off. And now there he was like a vengeful angel.

“What the, Roy Kent as I live and breathe,” James laughed. Roy didn’t. “Just having a little chat with the lad here. How about you move along?”

“If you don’t leave then I will rip your heart out of your chest and feed it to you and that’s before the police arrive, who I called when you first hit Jamie so it shouldn’t be long now,” Roy snarled. That stopped James in his tracks and it was clear what the cogs were whirring. If he got arrested for this then it was prison, not rehab. He would know that Jamie wouldn’t press charges but if he was caught at the scene then that wouldn’t matter. Jamie remained still, as still as a statue in the hope that his dad would forget he was even there.

“Don’t forget what we talked about Jamie,” James laughed, spitting down on Jamie before striding away down the drive.

 

As soon as he was out of sight, Roy rushed over and dropped to one knee by the still static Jamie. “Jamie,” Roy whispered, softly and slowly lifted him into a sitting position. Jamie grunted in pain, still clutching his broken arm to his chest and wheezing from the impact of the floor. “Can you tell me what hurts?” Roy asked, his arm stabilizing Jamie upright.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie whispered, the tears finally welling up in his eyes. He had been so focused on not being weak in front of his dad that the first nice thing someone said was always going to cause that dam to break.

“You’ve got no reason to be sorry Jamie. Is it just your arm and your face?” Roy’s face was etched with concern as Jamie cried.

“He came near Phoebe,” Jamie exclaimed, trying to shrug off Roy’s caring hands. He didn’t deserve comfort. Roy sighed deeply and started to rub circles onto Jamie’s bruised shoulder. The sensation was settling and Jamie’s heart rate began to slow.

“You did exactly what you needed to. You got her to safety and dealt with him until help could come,” Roy explained, helping Jamie to his feet.

“She shouldn’t be near me it’s dangerous,” Jamie continued to sob.

“No Jamie, your dad is dangerous and he should be buried alive in a deep deep grave,” Roy snarled, until Jamie flinched. Roy visibly froze before taking a deep breath. “He should be kept away from both of you. But you are not dangerous Jamie,” Roy explained calmly and quietly. Before Jamie could continue to argue, his front door was thrown open and Phoebe came tearing down the drive towards them both. Roy stabilised Jamie with an arm around his waist.

“Jamie!” she cried. Her eyes were puffy and red and tears were streaming down flushed cheeks. She barrelled into Jamie’s legs, wrapping her arms around him in a desperate hug.

“I was so scared but you said to stay inside and you should have come inside,” she rambled, face pressed into his trackies.

“So sorry Pheebs,” Jamie sniffled, trying not to start crying again.

“You promised Jamie,” she huffed, still clinging to him. Both Roy and Jamie looked at each other in confusion. “You promised that you would call an adult if you saw your dad and you didn’t. So I called Uncle Roy as he’s always the one I ring if someone makes me scared. You should have called Uncle Roy!” she exclaimed, brow furrowed in worry. Jamie had forgotten all about that promise. The one he had made that first time he had talked to Phoebe about shit fathers. She had been right. He should have called for help. He should have called Uncle Roy but growing up he hadn’t had anyone who would throw everything aside and run if he called. He didn’t have an Uncle Roy. Phoebe may have saved his life. Jamie started to cry again. So Phoebe started to cry again.

“Well fuck,” Roy cursed with a distressed grunt.

 

Kent Family Calamity After Brutal Attack

AFC Richmond Manager Roy Kent forced to flee press engagements yesterday after an incident involving Kent’s niece and Richmond star player Jamie Tartt at Tartt’s Richmond home. During an announcement about AFC Richmond’s latest summer signing, Roy Kent was given a message that his niece was ringing and was noticeably upset. Kent forcefully ended the press conference and was seen speeding out of Nelson Road. Later news was broken of an attack on Jamie Tartt outside his home where the youngest Kent was present on the scene. At this time there have been no reports of the perpetrator being apprehended.

Reports out of AFC Richmond say that Phoebe Kent is uninjured and Jamie Tartt will be out of action for at least six weeks with a broken arm but is receiving the best medical care to be able to return to play as soon as possible.

 

“The news says I’m receiving the best medical care,” Jamie mutters through mouthfuls of yoghurt as he reads the paper in front of him.

“Sure as fuck hope so,” Ruth mutters as she examines the dressings on the grazes on his hip.

“Pound mummy,” Phoebe muttered absentmindedly from Jamie’s other side. Her tongue was stuck out of the side of her mouth in the exact same way that Jamie did when he was focusing on something. Jamie smiled fondly, his heart twisting as he watched her. She was wielding a sharpie and was doodling on Jamie’s cast near his elbow.

“Add it to my tab,” Ruth sighed. “The abrasions are healing well but I still want you on these antibiotics and to keep them covered to make sure that there’s no infection. But keep this up and you’ll be back to being pretty in no time,” Ruth jokily patted him on his uninjured cheek.

“Roy your sister thinks I’m pretty,” Jamie shouted with a grin.

“Fuck that!”

Notes:

As always let me know what you think in the comments and on tumblr @abubblingcandle