shift the tide

by notwithhaste

Summary:

Ted isn’t sure what the heck is happening and suddenly he thinks maybe he should just hang up. Hang up the phone and go to bed and never listen to the rest of the voicemail again. It feels like eavesdropping in a way - she has clearly had more than a bit to drink, she’d never be this candid if she wasn’t hammered. Except Rebecca is talking about kissing him and there’s no way he can hang up now.

Notes:

Arctic Monkeys and Do I Wanna Know, thank you for your service.

This went about 10k long but they started hashing things out and, well - who am I to stop them. Thank you for reading :)

Wait. For. The beep. Ya gotta leave your name, ya gotta leave your number.

Ted hears the phone ringing in the bedroom just as he is getting out of the shower. It’s hella late, almost midnight, so he guesses it must be Henry calling before bathtime to wish him goodnight. He’s never gonna make it in time to answer and he ain’t scaring the bejesus out of the kid by answering the call naked. Smiling, he dries off quickly, and yep, he sure was right - the phone stops ringing. That’s alright, he thinks as he runs the towel through his hair and down over his face; he’ll call him right back. He can’t wait to hear about his day. Throwing his pajamas on, he pads over to the bedroom, grabbing the phone from the nightstand and unlocking it with a flick as he makes his way to the kitchen.

Grabbing a bottle of water - still still - he looks down at the screen and huh. Whaddaya know, there’s a voicemail there waiting for him. Couldn’t have been Henry then and he’s a little worried now; midnight isn’t the time for good news.

Ted smiles as soon as he hears her voice.

“Hi, Ted,” she draws both syllables out cheerfully, then giggles. “Hello hello hello. Tap tap, is this thing on?” She seems to find that hilarious. More giggles.

Ted chuckles himself, settling back against the pillows. “Okay, Boss. Someone had a fun night I see,” he comments to an empty room.

“Dear sweet Ted.” Her voice is airy on the other end; he hears liquid being poured and guesses that as to why. “I was talking to Keeley tonight, and you know us girls when we get to talking, and anyway. I mean Keeley is so great. Isn’t Keeley just bloody terrific?”

Ted nods in agreement; she sure is.

“And we were talking about Roy - I think there’s hope there yet, by the way, mark my words.” He couldn’t agree more. “And then we were talking about Sam.” Ted braces himself but before she can continue there’s a sound of something being knocked over and “Shit, fuck, for the love of god!”

Ted shakes his head, grinning. He’s not much for swearing himself but Rebecca Welton makes it sound less like a profanity and more like a personality quirk. He wouldn’t have her any other way. He’s always been that way; Michelle could do no wrong either.

And boy oh boy, is that a dangerous parallel to draw in the middle of the night, with her voice in his ear.

“Anyway, where was I. Ah yes. Sam. Obisanya. O-bi-san-ya. What a terrific name. And he’s a terrific guy. Terrific. Terrific. Oh, I think I used that word too much. I think I have that thing, what did you call it, the -”

“Semantic satiation,” he murmurs in time with her; Ted smiles fondly.

“Yeah, that.” Ted hears a thump then another followed by a very guttural groan. “God, that feels good,” she draws out the o’s.

It takes him a moment to realize the sound was her shoes hitting the floor. Something about the image of Rebecca toeing off her heels after a long day, padding barefoot across the tiles with a satisfying moan makes his insides clench with longing.

“Where was I,” she continues on before he has time to dwell. “Ah, yes. Sam.” The line goes completely quiet and after a moment Ted wonders if she hung up when he hears her sigh. “He was so great, you know, he really was. So great. Kind and gentle and sweet, and his crush was, let’s be honest. Well, it was terribly flattering.” Ted grimaces despite himself, and that ain’t fair - Sam is a sweet kid. And Rebecca deserves to have someone sweet in her life. Someone to show her exactly how incredible she is. Someone to take care of her, even when she protests that she doesn’t need taking care of. Especially then.

It’s just that, Ted was kinda hoping that someday, maybe that someone could be him.

As if privy to his thoughts, Rebecca sighs. “He was the embodiment of everything I wanted, you know, and I blame you for that, Ted, actually. You made kindness sexy.”

Ted laughs at that. Well, good to know.

“You set that standard. You with your relentless fucking kindness and gentle eyes and homebaked goods and making me want to be a better person.” Ted smiles; he can hear the eyeroll. “You and your stupid references I now actually get most of the time, and your utterly ridiculous moustache.”

Ted sniffs in amusement.

“I can honestly say I have never cared for a moustache, ever.” And boy, she’s really hammering that point in. “But now all of a sudden I find it insanely attractive? What is that about? I mean, would I even like kissing you with that thing over your lip?”

Ted goes very still.

Rebecca’s voice is irreverent in his ear. “I like to think I would, I mean your mouth looks really fucking kissable. The shape of it, teeth too, that whole area. Really, well done. And your lips look so fucking soft, do you use anything?”

As a matter of fact, he does not.

“But I just don’t know! And what if I don’t - there’s no unringing that bell. Would you shave? Would I just continue having this annoying crush on you with absolutely zero kissing? I don’t think I could go without kissing you.” She pauses. “I suppose, there’s a chance you wouldn’t like kissing me except. Not a chance, I’m a fucking amazing kisser.”

Ted isn’t sure what the heck is happening and suddenly he thinks maybe he should just hang up. Hang up the phone and go to bed and never listen to the rest of the voicemail again. It feels like eavesdropping in a way - she has clearly had more than a bit to drink, she’d never be this candid if she wasn’t hammered. Except Rebecca is talking about kissing him and there’s no way he can hang up now.

“The thing is, Ted,” she sighs again and this time her voice is much softer. He closes his eyes. “I really really want to find out.” She pauses, then, “Sam was great in every single way but one. He just wasn’t —“

She goes quiet then and Ted closes his eyes.

He realizes he’s holding his breath, waiting for her to say ‘you’.

She doesn’t. Of all the sentences to leave unfinished!

Instead, she lets out a deep breath. “I’m tired of settling for less than I actually want. I deserve the real deal. Don’t I,” she adds tentatively, and it sounds like a genuine question.

It breaks his heart. That she has to ask.

“Anyway. You’re probably sleeping.” Ted doesn’t think he’ll sleep again. “Ugh, I bet you’re a cuddler,” she says it like it’s a bad thing. ”You have the arms for it. Anyway,” she concludes. “I’m going to regret this in the morning, aren’t I,” she laughs. “I don’t know why the fuck I’m calling you. Except --”

She goes silent and Ted is sitting up. Except?

Silence is all he hears for a long moment, and then she breathes out, “Good night, Ted.”

Ted lies in bed for hours thinking about that except. Thinking about how well she would fit in his arms.

.

Rebecca wakes up to a splitting headache.

Looking over at the clock, she checks the time and groans, throwing her arm over her forehead and rolling over. She’s late anyway, she might as well be really late.

What was she thinking, drinking on a school night. It was all Keeley’s fault.

Keeley and her ‘Come on Rebecca, it’s just a drink’ except it’s never just one drink. But Rebecca went along with it because she knew what it’s like living alone after living with someone. The house feels too large and too quiet. Even if Rupert was a shitty husband who wasn’t there half the time anyway, between his business dealings and his screwing around, he was there enough to make a difference. She might have been lonely, but she wasn’t alone. The distinction is a pretty shitty one in hindsight but it had her staying for years.

They ended up drinking a whole bottle of Prosecco, and then another. Talked about all manner of things, mainly boys. She can’t remember exactly what she said except that there was a lot of giggling and silliness. Keeley made cougar noises and lurid references to Sam. Rebecca rolled her eyes and blushed.

She rolls her eyes now as she attempts to sit up, falls back into the pillows with a painful groan. Her forehead feels like it’s going to split in half any minute now.

She reaches for her phone. To call Higgins and tell him she can’t be arsed to be in today. She presses the little phone icon, the list of recent calls appearing on the screen.

She squints at the name at the top. Ted Lasso. She frowns. Ted. Did she speak to Ted last night? She doesn’t think so. Certainly not when she was at Keeley’s and then when she got home she -

Fuck.

Fuck fuck shit and fuck.

She’s sitting up now and the speed with which she does it makes her head pound something terrible, but it’s nothing compared to the dread she feels in the pit of her stomach.

She didn’t speak to Ted. She spoke to his voicemail. She distinctly remembers thinking Oh fucking great, another voicemail he’ll ignore.

(And that crept up on her, how much that still stings.)

She checks the duration of the call. Almost seven minutes.

“Oh God.” This is utterly mortifying. “Stupid stupid stupid,” she chants, putting her head in her hands. She can’t remember exactly what she said but she remembers enough.

She remembers the state of mind she was in, coming back from Keeley’s, entering her own empty house. Hello darling, I’m home. The complete silence that greeted her.

She remembers the restlessness, getting an open bottle from the fridge. Remembers scrolling through her contacts for a Luca - not necessarily that Luca but an equivalent, someone who would do for tonight. Just someone to make the alone go away. In the end, the payoff just didn’t feel worth the effort.

She thought of Sam. Not as a person but more as a concept. She had told Keeley earlier that evening she liked what he represented. A possibility. That romance can be good, that it doesn’t have to be wrought with uncertainty and mind games.

That she can be loved by someone wonderful.

She remembers the longing, too, the deep searing ache that seems to be ever-present these days but that she’s able to drown out most of the time - with work and friends, because she has those now - until it's low and dull and easy enough to ignore until such a time she’s ready to deal with… all that. The alcohol however always seems to sharpen those edges, brings the longing right to the surface until she feels like her chest could burst from sheer want.

And it wasn’t for Sam and it wasn’t for some hypothetical relationship with a hypothetical nice guy.

There’s nothing hypothetical about Ted Lasso.

Rebecca makes her way downstairs - tea, she needs a cup of tea and about a row of paracetamol - and she’s standing barefoot in her kitchen, arm stretched and head back as she leans on the counter and waits for the kettle to boil.

She squints at the clock; gone eight. She really doesn’t feel like going in. She also knows that that might turn the whole thing into a bigger deal than it needs to be. Pouring water in the cup, she decides to face today head-on. Knowing Ted’s track record, he might not even mention it.

Taking her cup of tea, she pads upstairs for a long hot shower. She’s giving Biscuits with the Boss a hard pass today. She’s going to allow herself that much of a reprieve, at least.

 

.

She’s avoiding him.

He doesn’t realize it at first. He stops by her office first thing but she’s not there. Considering the hangover she’s probably nursing, he supposes her absence is not unexpected. He leaves the biscuits on her desk.

He turns to leave but then changes his mind, grabs a post-it and a pen.

Hope you’re not feeling too crummy. Get it?

He draws a small stickman with a bushy mustache and sticks it to the pink box.

He wants to write more but decides against it.

He waits until 11 before he texts her.

Did you find the biscuits?

Considering he left them on her desk, he’s pretty sure she would have. He’s just fishing. If she’s in her office. If she’s free.

They were in the middle of my desk, Ted. With a note.

Did you like the note?

It’s a terrible pun, Ted.

So she laughed. Good.

How ya feeling?

She’s read it but she doesn’t reply right away and Ted wonders if alluding to last night was a mistake. The three dots appear then disappear, then appear again.

FInally -- I’m okay, thank you. Just trying to catch up on some paperwork.

So she’s not up for texting. Okay. He cuts to the chase. Seeing as we missed Biscuits with the Boss. Lunch with Lasso?

She doesn’t reply right away so he busies himself by spinning in his chair, glancing at the phone at every turn. Then finally, it lights up.

Sorry Ted, I have a meeting then I’m seeing Keeley for lunch.

Sitting back, Ted taps the phone on his chin. It’s a plausible excuse; she has lunch with Keeley a lot. Except that he happens to know that today is Roy’s turn. And unless she’s going to mediate their potential reconciliation, he really doubts she’s going for that lunch.

For one crazy moment he thinks about what would happen if he called her out. If he pushed back and brought up the voicemail. Told her that he’d listened to it a dozen times already before leaving the house this morning. That the sound of her voice filling his empty apartment is a sound he could get used to. Maybe over dinner. Tomorrow night, at eight?

He reads her last message again, drums his fingers on the desk. Putting her on the spot about the voicemail and the lying might only put her on the defense and that’s no good. Rebecca is not comfortable with being vulnerable, not on someone else’s terms. It would feel too much like an ambush so he dismisses it. If she doesn’t want to see him then he’s gonna respect that.

Say hello to Keeley for me.

It’s the right thing to do.

(He’s getting a little tired of that.)

.

Well, that was fucking stupid, Rebecca thinks, tapping her nail nervously along the edge of the phone. Keeley told her she was seeing Roy today which means there’s a great chance Ted will know she lied. Not that Roy would necessarily share this information, but Ted Lasso has a way of always knowing everybody’s business.

What is she doing.

She feels utterly foolish, sitting on her sofa in the middle of the day, worrying about a boy. So she got drunk and left him an ill-advised word vomit. She’s not the first and she won’t be the last. And maybe this is good, if she gets caught in a lie. That way, Ted will know she doesn’t want to talk about it and they’ll carry on as they are and that will be that.

And maybe one night they’ll both have a few too many - at a gala, for the holidays, after the season ends - and her inhibitions might lower again, so much so that she might grab him by the collar and kiss him.

God, she wants to kiss him.

Her head hits the back of the sofa with a thud. She groans, flinging the phone to the side.

Over a boy. At her age!

(It doesn’t occur to her until much later in the day that maybe her excuse was a weak one for a reason. That she wanted to be caught in a lie. That she didn’t want him to ignore the message at all. She clears her inbox and refuses to think about Ted.)

 

.

She’s still on his mind hours later. He’s in his office and Beard is drawing on the whiteboard and he’s nodding along although truth be told what Beard is saying makes as much sense to him as the date before month format - and that is none at all.

“Would you cut that out?”

Ted realizes he’s been tapping his phone on the edge of his desk.

“Sorry, Coach.”

“Something on your mind, Coach?”

No sense in lying to Beard. “A few things, mhmm.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Rubbing a finger over his chin, he considers that. On one hand, it’s clearly a yes, please. On the other hand, it’s Rebecca and gossiping about her in literal locker rooms seems in bad taste. Even if it’s Beard. “Put a pin in it, okay.”

“Okay,” Beard agrees easily. “In the meantime though,” Beard taps the marker against the board. “Do you mind if we kick Brentford’s asses?”

“No, Coach, sir!” Ted salutes with a grin.

 

.

Ted tries again the next morning.

He bakes her biscuits and only listens to the voicemail four times (that’s not counting the times he just skips straight to the part where she talks about kissing him).

“Heya, boss,” he pokes his head through her office door. “Got a minute?”

“Ted!” She looks up, startled. “You’re here.”

“I work here.” He walks over to her desk, puts the biscuits down. “You’re in bright and early today.”

“Yes, indeed.” She puts the box to the side, shuffles some papers. “Lots to do! You know how it is.”

“No rest for the independent women. Throw ya hands up at me.” He points at her. “Am I right.”

“I wish I could tell.”

“So, you got some time in your schedule for your lowly manager. I was thinkin’ we could grab a bite later? It’s a nice day, could even go for a stroll.”

“Sorry, Ted. I’m absolutely swamped today. I’m probably just going to have lunch here.”

“That’s okay. Just tell me what you fancy and I’ll grab it for ya.”

She looks at him then, folding her arms on the table in front of her. “It’s going to have to be a quick bite while I work. I’m sorry.”

Ted forces a smile. “Nah, I get it. I’ll just make like a newborn and head out.” He slaps the arms of the chair and stands. “If you change your mind,” he trails off.

“You’ll be the first I call,” she waves her finger decisively, her mouth clamping shut when she realizes what she said.

“And I’ll answer,” he says, his voice deliberately gentle, his eyes locked on her, and he hopes to god she gets what he’s not saying.

 

.

Rebecca answers two emails in two hours before she decides to call today a wash. She’s looked at her phone more times than she’s looked at her laptop.

Things are awkward between them. She’s made things awkward with Ted which she didn’t think was possible. But the way he was looking at her earlier - like she was a wounded animal who needed to be nursed back to the lion she fancied herself to be.

She hates that, hates feeling exposed, hates that he can see right through her.

Chewing on her cuticle, she eyes her phone again. She wants to call him but the thing is she has no idea what to say without saying too much. And while yes, her and Ted have certainly come a long way, tipping her hand is not something Rebecca is comfortable with. Even with him. Unless she’s had a couple of bottles of Prosecco, apparently.

A drink right now sounds pretty good, actually.

Sighing, she sits back in her chair, turns so she’s staring out of the window. She can hear him outside, shouting something inspiring no doubt, and she smiles. She misses him. Which is utterly ridiculous because he hasn’t gone anywhere. If she shouted out the window for him now, he would break his neck running up to her office.

And there it is. God, she can hardly be blamed for her feelings for him, considering; he’s been asking for her to fall in love with him since the moment he baked the first batch of those biscuits, the fucker.

So, maybe she can’t talk to Ted about this but fuck it, she has other friends. Scrolling through her recents list, she presses the fourth one down.

“I did something really stupid,” she says without preamble, before she loses her nerve.

“Well hello to you, too.”

“Is this a good time?” she checks because Keeley’s time is no longer her own.

“There’s no bad time for you, babe. What’s up?”

“Okay, so. The other night, after I left yours. I called Ted.” And her tone must imply something monumental happened because Keeley draws all the wrong conclusions.

“Oooooh,” she catcalls. “A booty call.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” Rebecca rolls her eyes at the insinuation. “I left him a voicemail.”

“My god Rebecca, I hope you used protection.”

“Not funny.”

“Well what did you say?”

“I’m not sure.” She chews on her thumb. “I was so fucking wankered. I’m pretty sure I mentioned Sam.” She pauses. “And Ted’s facial hair.”

“Get in!”

“Please stop.”

“I mean, that is so hot right? I bet it feels amazing when he --”

“Oh dear Lord!”

“So what else did you say?”

“Nothing really. Ramblings of a drunken woman, I suppose.”

“Oh.” Keeley sounds a little disappointed at that. “I don’t know why you’re so bothered, Rebecca. Might be a bit awkward but it’s hardly grounds for panicking.”

“He’s — Ted!”

“Exactly! He’s a teddy bear. He won’t hold a drunk dial against you. Don’t worry about it.”

Chewing her bottom lip, Rebecca plays with the pencil, taps it on the desk. “I think he wants to talk.”

“So talk.”

Rebecca’s face scrunches up in discomfort.

“Rebecca? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Just that,” she sighs. “It could have been a bit more to it than that.”

“Define more.”

“I’m not holding out on you, promise. It’s all a fucking haze. But I was lonely and needy and,” she wants to say confused but the truth is, it was probably the first moment of clarity she’s had in a while. “I blame Ted, you know. He’s so -” she makes a frustrated sound. “Ever-present. He’s just there all the fucking time. I mean, he’s the man in my life without actually being the man in my life.” Pressing a finger between her brows, she falls silent.

There’s a beat; then, “Rebecca? Do you like Ted?”

“Of course I like him,” Rebecca answers readily in an effort to dismiss what she very well knows Keeley’s asking.

Keeley doesn’t buy it, of course. “Oh my God! You do! God, I fuckin’ knew it! You know, I told Roy like a year ago it was only a matter of time before you two hooked up.”

Her curiosity wins out. “And what did he say?”

“You know, he was all,” Keeley puts on her best Roy voice. “‘Stop sticking your nose in other people’s business’ and ‘This is boring, I’m gonna go and growl at preschoolers.’”

Rebecca laughs. “He’s right.”

“He was not.” But she giggles and it might be the happiest she’s heard her friend be in a while.

“You miss him.”

“So fucking much,” she chuckles quietly. “It’s like this big massive fuck off hole in my chest.”

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.”

“Eh, it’s alright. It’ll be alright. We’re working on it. I think. Had lunch yesterday and that was nice. It felt like it did when we first got together. Exciting, you know. Full of opportunity and shit.”

Rebecca barks out a laugh at the turn of phrase. She does know the feeling. “Well, I hope you guys make it. I need a win. I need to see love conquer all.”

“You could always DIY that shit, yeah?”

“There is nothing going on between me and Ted,” she insists.

And she believes that. She does. She knows when a man is interested in her and while yes, Ted is nothing like the men she usually goes for, he is in fact a man. She told him she was dating one of his players and he was all ‘oh shucks well I sure am rootin’ for ya god bless’, for goodness sakes.

Except there are moments when she catches him looking at her out of the corner of her eye, where his gaze lingers for just a beat, just long enough to allow for the moment to take form and exist between them before he looks away. Times when she brushes past him and could swear she hears his breath catch. Times when he remembers something she said months ago, something so minute and insignificant, she herself struggles to remember the context of it. Not Ted. Ted seems to remember everything about her. He makes her feel like she’s the only person in the world that could possibly matter.

She shakes her head. That’s just Ted and she’s being silly. He makes everyone feel special. This is exactly the sort of fanciful thinking that got her carried away the other night. Well, that and the copious amounts of alcohol.

Keeley makes a derisive noise, “It’s so something. And Ted Lasso would be fucking lucky to have you. God, can you imagine if you kissed him? Bet it would be like all his Christmases have come at once.”

Rebecca laughs out loud, shaking her head, grateful for her friend. No one can champion her quite like Keeley. It’s sweet but she’s not always objective. She championed Sam, too.

“But seriously, Rebecca,” she continues and her voice has taken on an earnest note. “If what you feel for Ted is real, then you should give it a shot. You owe it to yourself.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows shoot up as she considers that. She never thought about it that way. Maybe she does owe it to herself.

The thing is, she left the voicemail and she remembers enough of it to know that she put herself out there. Drunk words sober thoughts, or however the saying goes. And it didn’t have Ted breaking down her door.

“More importantly,” Keeley adds. “You two would look so fucking hot together.”

Rebecca can’t argue with that.

 

.

They’re sitting at their table and Beard just got them their second round, when Ted decides he might need some reinforcements afterall.

Beard hates it when Ted beats around the bush, so he doesn't. “I think Rebecca might like me.”

Beard takes a sip of his beer. “She does.”

“No, I mean, like me like me.”

Beard’s eyes fix on him. Ted lifts his eyebrows to indicate exactly. “How d’you figure?”

“She told me.”

“She told you?”

“Yeah. The other night. She left me a voicemail telling me she likes me. At least, I think that’s what she was sayin’,” Ted frowns. “She had a bit to drink.”

“A drunk mind speaks a sober heart. Jean-Jaques Rousseau.” Beard looks at him unwaveringly. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Ted picks up the glass and has a drink. Licks off the foam from his mustache.

Beard nods solemnly.

“I mean, I gotta talk to her about it, right.”

“Probably.”

“Find out if she remembers.”

“She might not.”

“She might not,” Ted muses. “I don’t know, she didn’t sound that drunk.” He’s wishful thinkin’.

Beard shoots him a look. “Okay. Say she remembers.”

“Well, then I gotta find out if she meant it.”

“And if she did?”

“If she did. I mean, boy,” he shakes his head, fights a smile. “It’s Rebecca.”

“Yup.”

Ted puts his face in his hands and groans. “What am I gonna do?”

“Just be honest.”

Ted nods.

“Ask her about the voicemail.”

“Sure.”

“Then tell her you feel the same.”

Ted gives a nod, and another. “I guess honesty might be the best poli - “ He looks up at Beard. Beard simply watches him. Ted wags a finger at him. “Nice. Real nice.”

“You were gettin’ yourself all wound up in knots.”

“Thanks for unwinding me, Coach.”

“Any time, Coach.”

“Okay, walk me home?” Ted slaps his palms on the table, grabbing his glass as he gets up. Beard rises from his seat. “Just out of curiosity. How long -”

Beard falls in step with him, “Months, Coach, months.”

So he’s sneaked a whole year past him, Ted thinks smugly. He’s gonna keep that to himself for now.

 

.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. Reaching for his phone, he types out,

We’re gonna have to talk about it sometime.

He presses send before he can change his mind.

.

 

Biscuits with the Boss the next morning is more like Biscuits with the Boss, Higgins and two guys from legal who are there on very pressing business Ted doesn’t know and doesn’t care about. Rebecca seems to be less than focused on the conversation herself. She’s shooting him looks and he does his best to catch her gaze but she’s too quick and he wonders if he was meant to notice.

He leaves twenty minutes into the snoozefest. Walking down to his office, he considers the very real possibility that Rebecca doesn’t want to talk about it, not sometime and not ever. He’s starting to feel pushy and he doesn’t like being pushy, not when it’s ultimately unwelcome. Maybe she needs him to back off and give her some space.

That really worked out well for you in the past, Tedd-o, he thinks as he rounds a corner. He gave Michelle space and she gave him a whole lotta more space in return.

And yeah, point taken but while he really likes what she had to say in the voicemail, it could very well be that she wishes nothing more than to take it all back.

He sure hopes she doesn’t.

He taps the patched-up Believe sign above his door.

.

It’s just after lunch when there’s a knock. The locker room isn’t full but it isn’t empty either. The fact she chose his office at this time of day isn’t lost on him.

“Hi, Ted. Can I just - Could I have a quick word.”

“Sure thing, Boss, come on in,” he waves her in.

“Listen, I think there’s something we should probably address.”

Ted props himself up on the desk, crosses his arms. “An elephant in the room.”

She smiles but it’s tense. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

He waits her out.

“The other night,” she starts, hand going up, base of her palm pressing into her forehead. “I had way too much to drink and I was just, I never should have made that call.” She’s looking at his desk, at her hands, at the poster on the wall, everywhere but at him. “I can’t even remember half the things I said -”

“If you want,” he hooks a thumb, pointing at his phone, because it seems almost rude not to offer.

“Please,” she raises her palms, “The little I remember, I’d rather forget it. I’m afraid I made a fool of myself, Ted.” Her face contorts and then she’s finally looking at him and she looks so incredibly uncomfortable that he can’t take it. It feels cruel to force this conversation, and the last thing she deserves is cruel.

Slapping his thighs, he pushes himself off the desk, “Hey, don’t sweat it, Rebecca.”

She looks up, surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” he reassures. “Look, I get it. Who hasn’t said something they didn’t mean after having a few too many, am I right.”

“I, well -”

“They should put a label on there,” he moves his hand in the air, left to right, as he reads, “‘Might cause temporary insanity. Ingest with caution.’” He frowns. “Wait, maybe they already do.”

He’s letting her off the hook.

She blinks at him then lets out a short laugh of relief; relief and something else, something he can’t quite put his finger on, and then it’s gone. “Exactly. Well then. That’s settled. Back to normal.” She clasps her hands in resolution.

But it feels off, all of it. She looks more embarrassed than reassured and he feels like a goddamn coward once again. He was a coward once before, standing right in this here spot as he told her he was happy for her and Sam and to follow her heart and all the rest, all the right things, all the while wanting to grab her and shake her and ask her what the heck she’s doing.

He stands here now, with his hands in his pockets, watching her leave again, wishing he had the guts to just come out and tell her that she has no reason to feel embarrassed, no ma’am, not at all.

He has a crush on her, too.

Her hand is on the handle when she stops. The deja vu is overwhelming.

“Hey, Rebecca.”

She half turns to look at him “Yes?”

“There ain’t nothing foolish about what you said.”

She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

 

.

She flees back to her office. Hopes for a full inbox, a slimy article in the Sun, Rupert announcing he’s expecting twins - anything that would provide a distraction from that bloody disaster.

Despite Ted’s reassurance, she never felt more foolish in her life.

Keeley was right about one thing - Ted won’t hold a drunk dial against her.

Rebecca didn’t count on how much she was hoping he would. How badly she wanted him to hold her to each and every reckless word. She went to his office on a fishing expedition and she came out empty handed and it’s only now that she realises just how desperately she hoped for more.

Back to normal.

She grabs her phone and starts texting.

.

She stays with him the whole afternoon.

She’s on his mind during practice - he sneaks a look up at the office but the window is closed.

She’s with him at the fortnightly Diamond Dogs Dating Disasters run-down which he forgot was today, where they share past dating calamities in hopes that they can learn and grow and evolve. He mostly listens anyway; he didn’t date much.

She’s the niggling feeling in the back of his mind as Beard and Roy run through the play. Beard notices but doesn’t say anything. Real friend, right there.

She’s with him as he grabs his backpack and heads out.

As he makes his way home, he realizes what’s been bugging him the whole day, what felt off, and he could just kick himself for being so damn dumb. For overthinking himself into letting her down.

The look on her face when he let her off the hook, it wasn’t embarrassment. It was disappointment.

Her voice comes back to him. (I deserve the real deal, don’t I?)

He’s been so preoccupied with letting Rebecca take the lead, do what’s right for her, make her choice on her own terms, in her own time, that he forgot that she asked him a question.

He never gave her an answer.

He stops, his heart pounding in his ears. A left will take him to his apartment.

He takes a right.

.

 

She answers on the second knock and he can’t help but wonder - hope - that she might have been expecting him.

“Ted!” she greets, her voice a little high and nope, she’s definitely surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”

I think you deserve the real thing is what he wants to say. Figures he should probably ease her into all that. He’s been living with these feelings for her for a little while; he has the home advantage.

“Can I come in?”

Rebecca shifts, eyes darting on the night around them. “Ah, it’s a little late.”

He checks his watch, “It’s only eight.”

“I had a long day.”

Guess easing her in is not on the cards. “I just wanted to say, about the whole voicemail thing, you know. We kinda left it up there and -- “

“I thought we agreed to drop it.”

“I’m reneging on that.”

“Look, Ted. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, really, I do.” He doubts that’s true and he opens his mouth to tell her that but she raises a palm to stop him. “But I’d rather just forget the whole thing.”

“Yeah, here’s the thing. I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Of course you can. Just do what you did last time.” She sounds annoyed.

That makes him pause. “Beg your pardon?” he frowns.

“Look, don’t worry about it.”

“Are you just changing the subject?” But he can see by her stiff demeanor he’s way off base there. “Okay, you’re not. So what’s up?”

She rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Ted. It’s nothing.”

“Sounds like a whole lotta somethin’ to me.”

“This isn’t the first voicemail I left you, it doesn’t have to be the first voicemail you choose to address.” There’s a definite bite to her words.

He certainly did not see that one coming. Her face is set and he can tell she’s going for standoffish but all he sees is hurt. Before he has the chance to reply, he hears footsteps behind him.

“Rebecca.”

Well. What do you know.

She presses the heel of her hand to her temple then looks over Ted’s shoulder at the man behind him. “Mike.”

“I thought,” the man - Mike - comes to stand next to Ted. “You said you were free?”

He’s young - not Sam young but younger than them. He’s also taller, darker and handsomer than him, Ted can’t help but notice.

Rebecca looks as awkward as he feels. “Yes. Yes, I did,” she exhales. “Why don’t you just, go in, wait for me in the front room.”

“Not the bedroom?” he smirks in her ear as he passes by.

She looks pretty pissed and that, at least, offers some small comfort. “I’ll be in in a moment,” she instructs tersely. Mike’s gone and she turns to Ted, her face scrunched up in contrition. “This is really not -”

“Any of my business,” Ted offers quickly. It’s not about absolving her. It’s not about respecting her choices. His heart has taken enough of a beating for one day and he’s calling it a night. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He turns to leave, walking the short distance to the street.

“Ted,” she calls after him. He stops and turns to look at her. She looks resigned. She opens her mouth, closes it, and he wonders what she was gonna say. In the end, she calls, “Have a good night.”

Ted nods but doesn’t have it in him to return the sentiment. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he leaves her staring after him.

.

 

He’s almost at his door, his keys in his hand, but the thought of going back to his empty apartment feels unbearable.

There’s commotion coming from outside the pub and Ted turns in the direction of the sound.

He could use a drink. He could use the noise.

He makes his way over.

.

 

The pub is pretty full which he finds oddly comforting. There’s a few familiar faces dotted around and he says a few hi’s, shakes a few hands; but there’s no one there he knows well enough to sit with, which he’s grateful for. Nursing his beer and his heart, he goes and sits at the end of the bar.

He finishes the beer. Then another. He’s just about to order his third when a full glass is set down in front of him hard enough to overspill.

“Here,” a deep voice tells him. “You look like you could use another.”

“Mighty nice of ya,” Ted salutes him with his finger.

“I’m in a charitable mood.” Roy lifts his own beer in a toast. “Cheers.” He doesn’t wait for Ted before he takes a large gulp.

“What brings you here?”

“I wanted a fucking drink. This is a pub, isn’t it?”

Ted nods away.

“What about you?" Roy gives him a once-over. "You look like someone took your heart out, chewed it, spat it out, stomped on it,” Ted thinks he might finish but he keeps on going. “Then invited all their friends for a game of football.”

“The ball being my heart,” Ted checks.

“Yeah,” Roy replies. “And the score was seventeen to twenty-one.”

“Mhmm, mhmm,” Ted nods; he can’t disagree. “That’s some bold strokes you used to paint that picture.”

“Just spit it out.”

“Well, Roy, truth be told, I think I got myself stuck in my own dark forest, and I can’t seem to find my way out.”

“Is this a metaphor for Sunday’s game?”

“Oh, right, I forgot, you weren’t there for the analogy.”

Roy groans in agony.

Ted plays with his glass. “You know how in every romantic comedy you have all them obstacles the protagonists have to overcome before they can end up together. Kind of like you and Keeley, I guess.” Roy is giving him a hard stare but Ted pushes on. “And anyway, I feel like I’ve been trying to get out of the dark forest for months now yet somehow I manage to wind up right back by that same tree, ya know?”

Roy doesn’t miss a beat. “So basically, you fancy a girl.”

Lifting his eyebrows, he pulls his lips between his teeth and nods his head. Roy does have a knack of summing things up. “Woman, but yeah, yeah, that’s about the long and short of it,” he points his beer at Roy before taking a large gulp.

Roy is staring straight ahead when he asks, “Is it Rebecca?”

Ted chokes on the beer. Turns to Roy, pretty sure his mouth is hanging open.

“What,” Roy challenges. “Just because I don’t stick my nose into other people’s business doesn't mean I don't notice things. I’m actually incredibly perceptive.”

“One of the things that made you a great box midfielder and a fantastic captain.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

“I know I’m going to regret this but, what’s the problem?”

Ted deliberates on how best to sum it up. Goes with, “I think I wasn’t paying attention and I missed my chance.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Did Rebecca blow you off?”

Ted frowns into his glass. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure she knows how I feel.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I haven’t told her.”

Roy sits back, shaking his head, his entire face contorting in disbelief, “Why?”

Yeah, Ted, why. Running his tongue over his bottom lip, Ted looks down at the bar. “I guess at first I didn’t realize how I felt, fresh out of a marriage and all. I hadn’t been newly in love in twenty years, man. And then,” he shrugs. “She was dating and I was trying to get my head screwed on straight and I don’t know.” He looks at Roy, feeling a little desperate. “It’s Rebecca. I can’t just wing this one. She deserves someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“I can't believe this shit,” Roy turns until he’s fully facing him. “I’m only gonna say this once so don’t get any ideas about coming to me for relationship advice, got it?” Ted nods dumbly. “That woman,” he points at the door. “Is extraordinary. Absolutely fucking incredible. And I know you know that cause you’re not a complete numpty.”

Ted nods. Yes, he does know that. He’s not so sure about the other part.

“What she deserves is for someone to tell her that until she knows it, someone to undo the damage that that prick of an ex husband and all the pricks before him have done.” Roy looks him over. “She doesn’t need someone who’s going to stand on the sidelines and let her pass him by because he’s too scared he’s never going to live up to some fictional fucking image he has of the kind of guy she deserves.”

“Wow,” is all Ted can say. “That’s actually really --”

“I’m not finished,” Roy lifts a commanding finger and Ted clamps his mouth shut. “And you,” he points that same finger at Ted. “You’re such a nice guy.”

Okay; Ted wasn’t expecting that.

“You’re a wanker,” Roy lifts an eyebrow. “But you’re also an incredibly nice guy. You’re the kind of guy I wish I had as a male role model growing up. You’re the kind of guy I wish my sister brought home to dinner. You’re sweet and you’re considerate and you love people and you make sure they know it. So why doesn’t she know it?”

And that’s an excellent question. He really dropped the ball on this one.

“If there’s anyone who can make that lady happy, it’s you. So you better not screw this up, for the both of you.” Roy picks up his glass and downs his drink, gets up. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he adds, “Take it from me. You don’t want to be asking yourself what if.”

Before Ted can really process it, he’s gone.

Ted sits there, staring after him.

“What you smiling at, wanker?”

Ted blinks at the old man, shakes his head. He hadn’t realized he was smiling. Turning around, he finishes his beer, fishes out his phone. No missed calls, no new messages.

Okay, so the ball is still in his court. He’s fine with that. He has a few more things he wants to say to her.

 

.

There’s a chill in the air when Ted comes out of the pub. Zipping his jacket, he looks across the green. Gives it a good hard think but in the end decides against it. She might still have company - and that’s a thought he doesn’t want to dwell on - and an impromptu visit could do more harm than good.

He looks down at the phone still in his hand. It all started there, after all.

He presses her name; prays she answers. She doesn’t and the reason why is something he’s still actively not thinking about.

He rubs his forehead while she tells him to please leave a message after the beep, realizing with some degree of panic he doesn’t actually know what he’s going to say.

Here goes nothin'.

“Hey,” he starts. “It’s me. Ted. Lasso.”

Stop stalling.

“Look, I know we said we’d forget about it and all but I guess I’m no good at leaving well enough alone.”

He paces a circle on the cobblestones, stroking down his mustache. “Well enough. Well enough.”

He stops abruptly by the bench, looking across. There's a couple of rooms with the light on and he wonders which one she’s in.

“You deserve so much more than well enough, Rebecca,” it comes out more abrupt than he intended.

He remembers how sad she sounded on the phone when she wondered if she deserved the real deal. And lord knows if that's him but if she lets him, he’d sure give it his best try. He thinks he’s there now. His demons are still real but they don’t lurk in the shadows anymore; he knows what they look like and they’re a hell of a lot less scary since he’s turned on the light.

Sitting down, he runs his hand through his hair and leans forward. “Now you know I ain’t a big believer in violence but boy oh boy I could just pop Rupert one for treating you so bad you’re comfortable with settling. For making you believe you were someone who is settled for.”

He thinks that’s his worst crime - that he made Rebecca feel like she was just someone instead of The One.

“Cause listen to me, Rebecca. You’re the real deal.”

Smoothing a hand over the hair at the back of his head, he squeezes the nape of his neck. “Can’t believe I’m telling you all this in a voicemail, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate me crashing your night. And I know I said it was none of my business, but,” he rubs a hand over his face. “I hate that you’re with someone else right now,” he confesses. “I really hate that he's there.” And I’m not.

Ted closes his eyes.

“Maybe it had to happen. Maybe this way I can actually say what I wanted to say to you for days, which is,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Look, far be it from me to tell you who to date or, you know, whatever,” he sighs.

Looking up, he looks at her house as if she’ll be able to hear him. “And love. Love is hard. And it’s real scary, too. But it’s worth it.” He’s sure of that much. “Look. Just promise me that you won’t settle for anything less than the real thing, okay. Just promise me that.”

He stands up, watches a light go out in one of the windows.

“If you decide you meant any of what you said in your voicemail -- I’d say give me a call, but that’s just askin' for trouble,” he chuckles softly and closes his eyes. “You know where to find me.”

He looks down at the screen, his thumb hovering over the red button. He wants to say more, tell her how he feels, and he will. But he’s going to do it in person and without Manly Mike there listening in.

He ends the call.

 

.

There’s a knock on his door.

Real faint and at first he thinks he’s imagined it altogether. The TV is on low and he’s just standing there in the kitchen, staring at the oven when he hears it again.

Shuffling over, he cracks open the door to her side profile just as she’s turned to leave.

“Rebecca.”

“I,” she stops, turns to face him. “You said I knew where to find you.”

The implications of what she is saying hit him square in the chest. “And here you are.”

“Is this a bad time?”

It’s a funny question to ask at this hour but seeing her standing there - flats and leggings and remnants of make-up, her hair falling around her face like she’s tugged on it too many times - Ted’s heart is in his throat and he doesn’t laugh. “No, not at all. Perfect timing. Come on in.”

He opens the door wider, moves to the side. She steps in but doesn’t hurry past and there’s a moment where they’re so close, it would be real easy to reach out and stop her right there. Pull her wrist until she’s facing him and just lean in.

She flashes him a quick smile and then she’s walking off. Ted blows a breath and closes the front door.

Ho boy.

She stops just short of the kitchen, her nose scrunching up as she sniffs the air. She turns to him with a confused little frown. “You’re baking.”

“Sure am,” he confirms, walking past her and rounding his way to the oven.

After getting in from the pub, he was going to have another drink, maybe two, maybe get drunk and pass out on the couch as Joe Fox and Kathleey Kelly exchanged electronic mail, and not think about Rebecca in bed with another man.

Seeing that all he had in the cupboards was some vinegar and a half drunk bottle of Gaviscon, he needed a plan B and all that raiding of shelves and thinking about Rebecca had him in his kitchen at nearing midnight mixing the dough and staring at his phone.

He kinda hoped she might call.

In true Rebecca fashion, she did him one better.

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” she points out the obvious and it’s not lost on him, the fact she appropriates his baking for herself.

Ted feels corners of his lips tugging at the thought and he quickly turns away. The fact he’s not looking at her any more - not directly at her at least; he’s gonna steal a glance, gauge the mood - seems to put her at ease enough to walk over to the table.

If he’s very still, she might sit down.

“I like the smell. It’s comforting,” is all he offers by way of explanation. He lifts his eyebrows at her and smiles what he hopes to be his best placating grin.

He opens the oven. “Mmmmm, yup. All done.” He pulls the tray out, puts it on the counter in front of her. She takes a step back - to give him space as he maneuvers the hot goods, he hopes.

He dishes a few of the suckers out, burns his finger in the process, shakes it off. “Hot,” he says unnecessarily, sucking the smarting skin as he shoots her a quick look. She’s worrying her lip but she’s taking off her coat, folding it over a chair and leaning back against the kitchen counter, and suddenly the night is full of potential.

She catches him staring.

His heart skips a beat.

“It’s very warm in here,” she makes it sound like an accusation. He realizes she’s justifying taking off her coat.

He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s the oven.”

He nudges the plate along the counter, just enough in her direction to be considered an offer.

She stares at the biscuits. She’s still not looking at him when she says, “I’m scared.”

“Let them cool down a bit, should be fine.” He raises his eyebrows, going for playful, trying to dissipate this weird tension between them.

She rolls her eyes. “Not that.”

Ted drops the act. “Mmm,” he nods, still rubbing at the burnt knuckle. “It’s scary.”

“I got your voicemail. Obviously.”

Ted hums, lets her continue.

She’s not meeting his eyes when she says, “I sent Mike home.” She looks at him finally and Ted forgets to breathe. “About four minutes after you left.”

Relief washes over him, a happy twinge of possessiveness, and that’s not very modern man of him but it’s the god honest truth.

“What did I say, Ted?” she asks quietly. “On the phone.”

He scans her face and chooses his words carefully. “You said you were tired of settling. You wondered if you deserve the real deal.” He can’t help adding, “Also, you showed some concern about the mustache.” He touches the hairs in question.

She groans then as she drops her head in her hand, and Ted suspects she can guess the rest.

“For what it’s worth,” he says. “I agree. Not about this,” he points at his upper lip. “I think you deserve everything you ever wanted.”

“Roy said the same thing.”

“Roy Kent?” Ted frowns.

“Can you imagine that? Roy giving relationship advice.” As a matter of fact, he can. “He told me I deserve someone who makes me feel like I’ve been struck by fucking lighting.”

Ted’s lips quirk. “Well, that’s way more poetic than what I just said.”

“Yes, it is,” she agrees, her lips curving. Her eyes are sad, though. “I never had that.”

Neither did he.

He loved Michelle. Really loved her. In that youthful easy sort of way, where falling in love was effortless and inevitable. He had plenty of scars and baggage but none of it was the romantic kind. His scars were the kind that love would kiss and make better. It was a lot to ask from a girl, from a marriage - he sees that now. But back then - she was in that parking lot and she was simply lovely and he was young and eager to have a family again, build something of his own. He dove straight in, immersed himself in the ‘us’

Michelle was a band-aid, but she was never lightning.

Rebecca however. There’s nothing easy about this. They’re both divorced and they both have more baggage between them than a transatlantic flight. He’s not afraid of anything she has to throw at him, no sir, but more than that; this time - for the first time - he finds that he wouldn’t mind sharing his.

Her edges are sharp but they’re not uncomfortable, not to him. Somehow, they seem to fit in all the right places.

“There’s still plenty of time,” he says; means for the both of them.

She moves her head from side to side, playing with her fingers. “It’s not Sam.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that.”

“Sam was a mistake.”

“Mmm,” he gives a brief nod. “Probably not your best idea.”

Her eyes snap back to him, clear and green and stunning. A little angry, too. “You never said anything.” There’s a definite edge to her voice and he straightens up.

“I didn’t think it was my place.”

“I came to you,” she counters. “I asked, point blank. And you gave me some vague bullshit about checking in with my heart? What was that?”

It’s such a sudden shift to the conversation and he wonders how long she’s wanted to get that off her chest.

“I was screwing a twenty-one year old player. Of a football club I own. That you manage,” she points at him, her voice rising. “I didn’t need to check in with my heart, I needed to check in with a professional!”

“Well that’s a little harsh. Although Doc Fieldstone is an excellent therapist if you ever do feel like you need to talk anything out.” He’s trying to reign the conversation in, recover some of the footing he seems to be losing all of a sudden.

She doesn’t crack a smile, doesn’t move a muscle; if anything, her face falls a little at his words. “Cut the crap, Ted.”

Yeah, maybe that’s not such a bad idea. “You turned to a friend for advice. I did what any good friend would do,” he says, keeping his voice even. “I was trying to be supportive.”

“I didn’t want you to be supportive, Ted,” she all but spits the word out, sounding mighty annoyed now.

“Well what did you want me to be?” And maybe he’s a little annoyed himself right now because he doesn’t have a clue what she did want from him.

“Honest!” she exclaims. “I wanted you to be honest. To not just be fine with it! As his manager. As my --” she bites down on whatever she was about to say. “I wanted an actual reaction instead of all that philosophical crap. I wanted something real, for fucks sake.” She looks disappointed and that hurts. “For all your incessant talking, do you ever speak your fucking mind?”

Now hold on a minute. “You walked into my office and told me you had feelings for Sam. That you had feelings for him.” How is she not getting this. “That you were great together. That letting him go might be something you regret for the rest of your life. What was I supposed to say to that, Rebecca,” he questions, his own voice rising. Running his fingers through his hair, he feels the stubborn strand flop right back and over his forehead.

“How about the fucking truth!” she raises her eyebrows incredulously and dammit, she can be downright infuriating sometimes. “How about he’s too young and too naive. How about it’s entirely inappropriate to be getting involved with a player whose contract I own. How about the team morale if it ever got out. The fucking press!”

“You knew all this, Rebecca, you didn’t need me to tell you any of that.”

“Yes I did. I did need it, actually,” she says finally and she sounds defeated. Her voice is much lower when she continues, “Because it felt good - to be wined and dined and desired - and I haven’t had that in so long, it was hard to give that up. To talk myself into being alone again. So yes, Ted, I did need to hear it from someone else. Someone whose judgment I trusted. Someone who might also be —“ She presses her fingers to her brow.

“Be what?”

She looks at him in defiance. “Why don’t you tell me, Ted.”

Okay. Yeah, okay. He squares his shoulders. “Someone who might be in love with you.” She doesn’t look away but he can see her eyes widening, her lips parting, her breath catching in her throat. “Is that what you were gonna say, Rebecca?”

She chews her lip and she has to know. She has to know and she’s making him say it. She made it this far - to his apartment in the middle of the night, to a conversation that’s been brewing between them for months - but she needs him to bring it on home.

And the thing is, she deserves that. He’s been holding back since he met her, finding his way in but then keeping at arm’s length. Wanting to be a constant in her life but never quite allowing her to have a part of his. Falling in love with her but not letting her know, not letting her return the favor. He likes to shine that spotlight on others because it allows him to keep himself in the shadows.

He always found it easier to love than to be loved. Well, here he is now. Spotlight and all.

He wants her to see him.

“Because I am, you know,” he takes a step towards her. “In love with you. Head over heels, crazy stupid can’t-stop-thinking-about-you kind of in love with you. Have been for, heck I couldn’t even tell you how long,” he waves a hand in the air to indicate it don’t really matter.

Somewhere between his divorce and the two of them becoming a united front, he fell in love with her. When he watched her walk out on the team burning, wishing she’d stayed. When he opened the door to his hotel room in Liverpool and felt his heart sink when it wasn’t Rebecca on the other side of the door. When she confessed to setting him up to fail and not forgiving her never even crossed his mind.

Somewhere between then and now, he’s lost his head and his heart to this woman.

“Which is why it would have felt wrong,” he gives a quick nod. “To say anything about Sam. It would have felt like riggin’ the game, you know.” His voice gentler, he adds, “You don’t come for tips on your play to the opposing coach. That's the definition of a conflict of interest right there.”

Her chest rising, she breathes, “Ted, I swear to god.”

Rubbing across his upper lip, Ted takes a step forward. His hands in his pockets, he stands his ground. “The truth is, when you came to tell me about Sam. I was sad, Rebecca.”

His tongue in his cheek, he gives a resigned shrug. “Jealous, too,” he shoots her a wry smile. “Yeah. Definitely plenty of that going on. But mostly, I was just sad. You stood there smilin’ and instead of being happy for you like I oughta been, like a friend would be, all I could think was how I wish that had been me, makin’ you light up like that,” he waves an arm at her. “I spent months in my own head, I didn’t even notice what was going on with you. I wanted so bad to, to get it right this time that I let you down. Let us both down.” Pursing his lips, he adds, “I let Sam down a little, too.”

Rebecca tilts her head and he gives her a half shrug. “And then you left and I thought to myself, well there ya have it. You missed your chance at making her happy cause you were too damn scared you could never make her happy.”

“I -'' she starts. “This is so unbelievably -''

She takes in a sharp breath, her voice incredulous, “That you would think you are anything short of the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she enunciates each word, shaking her head, her forehead crinkling with disbelief.

Ted thinks that’s about the best thing he’s ever heard.

She looks down at her hands, where her fingers are at nervous play. She is doing her darndest to school her features which Ted thinks is a damn shame because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her more beautiful than she is right now.

He takes a step and reaches for her, his fingers wedging their way between hers until his thumb is rubbing across the soft skin. “Rebecca.”

She lifts her head and she’s right there, her face close enough he can feel her breath on his cheek. She’s in flats and that’s different, having to look down at her lips.

His left hand touches the side of her neck, his thumb brushing over the curve of her chin. “Listen to me,” he says, keeping his voice low and serious. She’s staring at his lips, her eyes dazed, her breath coming in small puffs. “If you really don’t like the mustache, I’ll shave it off.”

She blinks at him, confused. She must catch the edges of his smile because she hangs her head and lets out a little chuckle, her brow knitting in embarrassed understanding. He doesn’t let her. Leaning in, he kisses her laughter line. It’s his favorite line. “I could grow my hair instead.”

“Oh no, please don’t,” she pleads. He feels her clutching at his side.

“It’s a pretty strong look. I’ll show you some pictures.”

They’re so close and he watches her, the way she’s smiling with her eyes, the slight scrunch to her nose, the raise of her brow. The way her whole face is lit up.

The way her tongue darts out between her lips.

Jesus.

He’ll do just about anything to kiss her.

Pushing his hand up, he cups her face, kisses the corner of her lips. She lets out a strangled little sound and his brow knits with want; he’s a goner.

“I can always grow a beard, spread out the facial hair somewhat.”

It’s an off-hand comment, just for the sake of sayin’ something; he’s about to kiss Rebecca Welton and his heart is wilding in his chest at the thought. But then her breath actually hitches at his words, and that's interesting.

“Well alright then,” he pulls back enough so he can look at her properly. “Duly noted.”

“Ted?”

“Yeah?”

Her hands sneak to his neck, her fingers on his bare skin making his own breath catch. “Shut up.”

She pulls him in and kisses him, her mouth open and hungry and that’s more than fine because he’s right there with her, on the same page, finally.

Falling into her, he braces a hand on the kitchen counter behind her, the other splaying on the small of her back to keep her from bumping into the hard surface. He pulls her in, the fabric of her top creasing up under his touch and then he’s touching soft skin, his fingers dancing across her back. She lets out a moan and Ted’s brain short-circuits at the sound, at the way she’s moving against him, just the right amount of pressure in all the right places. Her hands are in his hair and she’s flush against him, pushing into him, and he feels himself becoming desperate. By the way she’s clawing at his nape, he suspects she feels the same.

Changing the angle, he slows it right down, gives himself the time to learn the taste of her. He kisses the edges of her mouth, captures her top lip, his tongue darting out until she opens up to him and boy she was right - she is an amazing kisser.

They part and he looks at her, her eyes hooded with arousal as she stares at his mouth. “Fuck,” she pants and he couldn’t have said it better himself.

His own breathing labored, he presses his forehead to hers, closes his eyes. “Nuts.” He runs a sure hand up her side, palms her ribs, his thumb drawing silly patterns on her skin.

“Seems worth it already,” her breath is ragged, small puffs of air across his lips.

“Fuck, Rebecca.”

She didn’t expect him to swear and it makes her whimper - honest to god whimper - and then she’s kissing him and pushing him and walking him back until he stumbles into the table behind him. Perching himself up on the edge, he pulls her in by the waist until she’s standing between his legs, never breaking the kiss. Her hands cupping his face, she deepens it, her thigh pressing against his groin.

God, he loves her thighs.

He runs a hand down one, trails his palm back up, higher, higher. Rebecca moans, pushing back into his hand and she’s no longer rubbing against his front but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

Pulling away, she straightens up and like this, her chest is level with his face; he groans at the sight.

“Like anything you see, Ted?”

His hand is cupping her from behind, two fingers between her legs. “A whole lot, yeah,” he nods dumbly, his voice strangled.

She smirks, her fingers going to the buttons on her top.

“I don’t think,” she starts, his eyes drawn to her hands as they work the top button.

And that’s one.

“You can really.”

Two.

“Fully,” her voice is husky and distracting. As is her cleavage.

There goes number three.

“Appreciate it.”

Four for four.

He’s unbearably hard and she’s not even touching him.

She pulls the top over her head and throws it behind her and wow. Wow. Rebecca chuckles and he realizes he said that out loud.

She goes to undo her bra, but he halts her movement. “Hold on.”

Reaching around her, his hand splayed on her back, he places a wet kiss between her breasts, and another, and another. He feels her fingers tugging at his hair, holding him to her; hums into her skin and she shivers.

He looks up at her, the heavy eyes, the biting lip. If he hadn’t been a goner already, he’d be one now. “Christ, you’re beautiful, you know that,” he mumbles. “Wanted you for so long.” Dragging his bottom lip up her pale skin, he watches as it reddens from his stubble.

Her breath is labored and heavy and she’s looking down at him with something akin to incredulous wonder.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing, just,” her voice catches. “The way you look at me, it’s like -” she shakes her head.

“Like what?”

“Like,” she puts her face in her hands then, letting out a short laugh.

“Hey.” He reaches up and pulls her hands away. “Hey.”

She takes in a sharp breath. “I’m not very good with intimacy, I’m afraid. Sex, I mean, sex is easy. Intimacy, on the other hand,” she worries her lip. “This is new to me.”

He considers that. “Good new?” he checks cause the last thing he wants is to overwhelm her.

Corners of her lips twitching, she breathes it out, “Incredible.”

He can definitely live with incredible. “That’s alright then.”

Without breaking eye contact, Ted places a gentle hand above the lace of her bra. Running his fingers along her collarbone, he trails them down and along the hem, dips a thumb inside, traces the sensitive skin underneath. Her breath hitches as he brushes a nipple, her hand grasping his shoulder to steady herself.

Rebecca Welton, weak in the knees. It’s a sight to behold.

Hooking a finger inside, he pulls the cup down, making sure the fabric grazes the nipple on the way. He’s rewarded with a moan and the sight of her pink hardened flesh in front of him. He runs his tongue over her nipple, feels her nails dig into his shoulder as his mustache scrapes her. He puckers his lips and blows warm air over the wetness, watches as her eyes close, her head falling back, her mouth the perfect O. He brushes a palm over the very tip, just the slightest touch.

“Fuck, Ted.”

“Gettin’ there,” he mumbles as he kisses along the other breast.

Rebecca is having none of that it seems. “Get there quicker, you’re driving me fucking crazy.”

She’s bucking against him and while he’s enjoying taking his time to really appreciate her, he is no tease. He intends to give her exactly what she wants, exactly how she wants it. His mouth closing around the peaked nipple, he trails his hand down until it’s between her legs. She opens them wider immediately, pushing into his hand as he cups her, presses his thumb at the top of her slit. The material of her leggings is soft and smooth and silky, and probably worth more than his rent but at the moment it’s a nuisance because he can’t quite cause enough friction. He tugs on the inside of her pant leg, pulls it down.

Rebecca is quick to peel them off, mumbles something about skirts and access as she kicks it away. Her panties match her bra - of course they do - and they reveal just enough to make Ted want to fall on his knees in front of her. And now there’s an idea.

Pushing away from the table, he turns them around, hoists her up until she’s sitting on top of it. Grabbing her thighs, he pulls her closer and kisses her. She rubs against him and his dick is so hard Ted thinks he might embarass himself right then and there, like some sorry teenager fumbling in the back of his dad’s car.

She must pick up on it because she wedges a hand between them, cupping him through the fabric. “Seems like you're ready to go,” she gives him a squeeze, runs her palm along his length.

He closes his eyes. “Hair trigger,” he chokes out and she laughs so he adds, “Concealed carry.”

“Not that concealed” she sounds playful as she arches an eyebrow, and is that a compliment on his manhood? She gives him another stroke, undoes his pants with enviable dexterity. “Unlock and unload.”

“Rebecca Welton, combining wordplay with foreplay,” he’s impressed. “Those are two of my favorite plays.” But then her fingers wrap around his dick and his mind drains of coherent thought.

She cocks an eyebrow, looking mighty pleased with herself for shutting him up. He ain’t about to complain.

Leaning in, he kisses the top of her shoulder and up to the crook of her neck, feels her shiver as he drags his upper lip over sensitive skin, her grip on him tightening. He thrusts up into her hand and it feels so good he does it again. Her palm feels wet and the thought of his precome on her hand drives him nuts. Sucking on the spot under her ear, he indulges in another thrust before he takes her wrist and tugs.

Wrapping an arm around her back, he takes her lips and kisses her. It’s hard and sloppy and she pulls on his hair and he groans as her tongue glides against his, as the tip of his dick brushes along her panties. She digs her heel in the small of his back, pushes down on his pants in an effort to take them off. She doesn’t make much headway, gives out a frustrated little cry.

He chuckles despite himself and she shoots him a look. “Off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She rolls her eyes and he does as he’s told.

She takes care of her underwear and she’s sitting buck naked on the edge of his dining table and he doesn’t have a clue how he got this lucky but he’ll take it. He’s still wearing his shirt - the only thing he is wearing - and she pulls him by the front and brings him in.

“No more word play, no more foreplay, no more fucking about, Ted,” she says, her voice husky as she positions herself just so, his tip sliding through her folds.

He groans instead, pushing again, rubbing the length of his dick up and down her clit. She’s moaning loudly now, too loud, and he kisses her. “Shhhh, you gotta keep quiet.”

She looks at him a little startled, “Oh. Okay, sorry.”

“No, no.”

He remembers Rupert, remembers how he made her feel in the pub, how humiliating that felt; doesn’t want to imagine how much worse it was in the privacy of their own home, and he can’t have that. Can’t have her thinking for a second she needs to demure on his account.

“I love it, Rebecca,” he says, flicks his thumb over her nipple, eliciting a sound, proving a point. “In fact, the only thing I like more than the idea of you screaming in pleasure,” he pinches her nipple and she moans again, louder this time. Not loud enough. “Is knowing it’s me that’s gone and done it.”

Pulling away, he points at the ceiling, “Mrs Shipley on the other hand is real funny about the noise. Now I know you wouldn't appreciate her calling the cops on us, would you.”

“Imagine the headlines,” she giggles and he loves that he's made Rebecca Welton giggle as much as he likes making her moan.

“Richmond owner proved moaner for the gaffer’s boner.”

“You’re getting better at these.”

“Why thank you,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “At your place, though, it would be an honor to make you scream.” Reaching down, he feels her wetness, runs his knuckles over her clit; she buries her face in the crook of his shoulder to muffle the cry. Resting his forehead on her temple, he pushes a finger in. “The louder the better.” Pushes in another. “Really go for broke, you know.”

She angles her hips so that she’s pushing down on his hand. “God, you’re insufferable.” She means it fondly.

Three fingers inside her, he starts pumping and she’s so wet he can hear it and Jesus, she wasn’t messing around when she said she didn’t need any more foreplay. He curls them inside anyway, just for good measure, just to get her to moan into his skin again. She bites his shoulder, his dick twitching against the inside of her thigh.

“Ted, please,” she whines in his ear.

“I don’t have any condoms.”

“Am good,” she gasps, seems monosyllabic. “You?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Taking his hand away, she positions himself against her entrance. He’s so turned on, he thinks he won’t last more than a couple of minutes. “I hope you’re in for a good time and not a long time,” his breaths come out broken and ragged.

“Hey,” she stops him with a gentle hand on his chest, makes him look at her. “This isn’t just about me.” She holds his gaze and by the way her brow is knitting he realizes she’s making a point.

He hears it loud and clear.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he nods.

Winding her arm around his neck, Rebecca plants a soft kiss against his lips, and another. He opens his mouth to her as she circles her hips, pushes forward, takes what she wants from him. She wraps one long leg around his back and he tilts his hips just so, and then he’s buried all the way inside her.

He starts to move, long slow thrusts, watches her face as he hits the spot, watches as her eyes roll back, does it again. Her hand is clawing at the back of his neck and he thinks that’s gonna leave a mark for sure; his dick twitches inside her at the thought and she lets out a guttural moan, clenches around him and he struggles to keep his own eyes open except he wants to watch her. Wants to see her like this, unabashed and messy and devastatingly beautiful, her face contorting in pleasure with every thrust, every endearment.

Pulling herself closer by his neck, she devours him, his hand on her arching back.

She slides her lips along his cheek. “Stop holding back, Ted,” she urges in his ear, and Jesus Christ.

Picking up pace, he starts thrusting in earnest, his movements deliberate. She’s so wet and so warm as she tightens around him, and he’s not thinking about making it last or about hitting all the right spots or ticking all the right boxes. He’s not thinking about much at all. Just the feel sound smell of her, the way she’s rocking against him, right there, right there with him.

He’s losing himself in her and he’s never felt more whole. She’d call him sentimental for thinking it, and he doesn't mind; she’d be right, after all.

By the sounds she’s trying not to make, he is hitting all the right spots and when her orgasm hits it’s happening everywhere all at once - her head falling back, her fingers at his scalp, her heel at the back of his thigh, her muscles tightening around him over and over again until he’s pushed over the edge, emptying inside her.

She holds him to her, his head under her chin, his face buried in her neck.

 

.

 

Planting a small kiss on his temple, Rebecca nudges him gently.

“Hmmm,” he grunts from somewhere around her collarbone. She smiles, rolls her eyes. He is in fact only a man.

Her man.

She rolls her eyes again, harder. Honestly, Rebecca.

She feels herself beaming like a fool though and she’s actually glad that Ted seems to be dead to the world. Except he’s died on her chest and now that the adrenalin is wearing off, she finds that his table is in fact incredibly uncomfortable.

“Erm, Ted,” she starts. “Mind if we move this to someplace softer?”

He looks up - barely - with a ridiculous smile. “This is plenty soft.”

Yes, indeed just a man. “Your hair’s a mess,” she comments, running her fingers through the strands.

“I bet.”

“I like it,” she admits. He looks absolutely ravaged and it’s all her.

“Then you should mess it up more often,” he plants a small kiss over her heart, straightens up.

“Oh, should I now?”

“Yup. Four to five times a week, minimum.”

“I’ll check my schedule.”

“I’ll clear mine.”

She laughs, a loud happy sound and she can hardly believe it’s coming from her. Ted bites his bottom lip, grinning.

She slides off the table and into Ted’s arms. “Your boss might have a word or two to say about your truancy.”

“Nah,” he waves it off. “She only keeps me around for my baked goods anyway.”

“Speaking of which,” she rounds him in search of her many discarded garments. “I’m absolutely famished.”

“Hey!” he grins, picking up his underwear and putting them on. “Just so happens I baked!”

She watches him head into the kitchen to retrieve the biscuits. “I’ll just go and clean up,” she looks around. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Just through there and to the left,” he waves without turning around.

She puts on her panties but doesn’t bother with the bra, snatches up her top and goes hunting for a bathroom. There’s a heaviness between her legs and god, she just feels so thoroughly fucked. Who knew making love could be so fucking good. She looks at herself in the mirror. Making love. She can hardly recognise herself.

(She looks happy.)

Once she’s washed up, she heads out only to notice a white shirt hanging up on the back of his bathroom door. Biting into her bottom lip, she thinks why not, slips it on. It smells of Ted.

Ted is in the kitchen, waiting. He smiles when he sees her. “Looks good on you.”

“A bit scratchy over the --” she indicates her nipple area.

“Yeah, but you like that,” he raises his eyebrows, offers her the plate. She rolls her eyes but she secretly loves that he knows that about her. By the way he’s looking at her, she thinks maybe not so secretly.

She takes the offered biscuit, leans against his kitchen counter and they just stand there, chewing and smiling at each other in silence and it feels so -- effortless. There’s no awkwardness, no rushing to get out the door, no walk of shame impending.

He looks down at the shirt. “That mean you’re stayin’?”

“Unless you’d like me to go,” she raises her eyebrows, bites the inside of her cheek.

“I don’t ever want that,” he says, his voice serious, his eyes leaving no room for doubt. “My home is your home.”

“I think the saying goes mi casa -”

“I know how it goes,” he interrupts her. “And I know you live just ways over there. I just meant, if you want to and when you want it, this is home, too.”

Oh.

She thinks she’d like that.

She chews the rest of her biscuit, then closes the step between them and kisses him. Arm around her waist, he kisses her back.

 

.

It’s 3 am and she’s in his bed, her legs spread open, his head between her knees as he kisses his way up her inner thigh. Her breath is laboured as she looks down and meets his eyes; he has the audacity to grin.

Pushing her legs down, spreading her wider, he licks along her slit, never quite touching her clit. Her hips buck and she reaches down until she’s grabbing a fistful of his hair and guiding him to where she wants him to be.

He doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second, as he captures her clit between his lips and sucks.

Rupert didn’t do this much, and when he did, it was about power, about control. Not with Ted.

This is about her.

“Fuck, Jesus fucking Christ,” she swears, her grip never waving, holding him right there. He runs his tongue flat up, up, lapping at her until every single nerve ending is on fucking fire and holy fucking shit he is so good at this.

“Thank you, I try,” he comments against the apex of her thigh. She tries to slap his shoulder and misses. It’s a half-hearted effort anyway.

He flicks the tip of his tongue over her swollen clit repeatedly until she’s losing her fucking mind. Her fingers go to her tit but she hesitates, just for a beat. It’s long enough for Ted to notice. “No,” he tells her. “Do it, Rebecca.”

She brings a hand to her nipple, pinching. Ted’s tongue is back on her but his eyes aren’t looking away and it’s the most erotic thing she’s ever done. She’s been naked with plenty of men in her life and, like she told him, she has no issues with sex. But he’s the first one that makes her feel completely exposed and against all odds, she finds she actually likes it.

Her hands and his mouth bring her over the edge and her eyes close shut and she’s bucking against him blindly but she would bet everything she has that his eyes never leave her.

.

She bloody knew he was a cuddler.

She’s lying on her side, heavy and spent. The bed dips and his knee wedges between her own as he shifts closer, pulls the duvet over them with care.

He kisses the spot behind her ear, rumbles a goodnight as he throws an arm over her, buries his nose in the back of her neck. He takes a long breath, as if to breathe her in, before he settles against her, his front to her back, his hand holding her to him.

It must be a decade since she’s been the little spoon. Possibly longer. She had gotten used to it, told herself she enjoyed the space. Being held all night? While trying to get some rest? A dreadful concept!

Judging by the sound of his evening breathing, Ted must be falling asleep. She feels his fingers curl into her, an instinctive motion, and she can’t believe how foolish she had allowed herself to be - to convince herself this wasn’t something she wanted.

Covering his hand with her own, she falls asleep smiling.

.

When she wakes up, Ted’s not there.

She cracks an eye open, tries to guess the time by the stream of light getting through his window. It’s not her usual early but it’s still early.

She hears the door open, hears him tiptoe over.

“It’s fine, I’m awake.”

“It’s early, we don’t have to be up yet.” His voice is docile, like he thinks she might flee.

Little does he know, she’s quite happy to stay right where she is. “I have no intention of getting up,” she turns to him, stretching and oh, that feels nice.

He snakes an arm around her waist and kisses her, slow and thorough; she moans softly, her palm cupping his cheek.

“God, you’re a great kisser,” she murmurs against his lips.

“Boy, I’ll tell ya, I sure am relieved to hear that.”

She scrunches her nose. “Why?”

“Oh just this ol’ thing,” he points at his moustache.

She rolls her eyes, “You’re never letting this go, are you.”

“Nope.”

"For what it’s worth, it was completely unfounded.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“Did you really mean what you said?”

“About shavin’ it off?” She nods. “If it meant I keep kissing you? Heck yeah.”

He’s absurd.

She runs her fingers over the hairs in question, her thumb brushing over his top lip. He opens his mouth and kisses it. Leaning in, her lips land on the spot next to his mustache. “I love this,” she gives him a gentle poke. “This dimple right there.”

“It’s a crowd pleaser, that one.”

She would never tell him but she hates Michelle a little for ever making him feel inadequate. “I don’t want you to change a thing, Ted. Not a single thing.”

“Not even the beard?”

She squints. “I suppose some seasonal changes might be acceptable.”

“My face does get cold in the winter.”

She laughs and he props himself up on his elbow, a content sound rumbling from his chest.

“What?”

He hums noncommittally. “Just enjoying the view.” Running his fingers over her smile, he adds, “Yeah, heck of a view.”

She must really have it bad for this man because she doesn’t even roll her eyes. Instead she closes them, leans into the touch, not caring how obvious she’s being.

In fact, Rebecca thinks as he kisses her again, she quite likes that he knows exactly how she feels about him.

 

.

 

Ted insists they watch You’ve Got Mail when she tells him she’s never seen it.

“You’ve never seen You’ve Got Mail?” His eyes are comically wide.

“Not start to finish, no,” she admits, a little defensively. They’re not talking Casablanca here. It’s a silly romcom for fuck’s sake. “Is it actually any good?”

“Well, I mean, it’s Tom Hank and Meg Ryan,” he says, as if that explains everything. “And while it’s probably not their best movie - you’ll always be famous, Sleepless in Seattle,” he points his finger at the ceiling. “It's my personal favorite. I mean, enemies to friends to lovers?” he cocks his head at her significantly. “That’s the best trope, right there.”

She huffs at his words but in truth, she’s inclined to agree.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she eyes him as he sets the movie up. “The game is tomorrow and I’m pretty sure you’re still on the payroll.”

“Meh, it’s only Brentford. A home game, we’ve got this one in the bag,” Ted flicks his wrist. “Beard and Roy are taking the lead this morning. I’ll be in first thing tomorrow to inspire the boys to greatness.”

“What did you tell them?” she asks, chewing her cuticle, because she knows he’s had to tell them something.

“Told Beard ol’ JJ Roussau was right.”

Rebecca hasn’t the first clue what the hell that means but judging by the self-satisfied smirk on Ted’s face, it’s some sort of code between the two. Possibly for her. Beard is discreet and she finds she doesn’t actually mind, either way.

“I did promise Higgins I’d come over for lunch. Dinner. I’m still confused about your terminology, by the way. It’s at 4. Neither here nor there, really.”

She laughs at that.

Ted sits with his feet on the coffee table, his arm stretched out over the end of the sofa. “Come on now, the movie’s about to start,” he waves her over.

Biting her lip, she curls into his side.

Pressing play, he hums happily. “Double date with Meg and Tom, huh. Now that’s what I call a perfect Saturday.”

They’re about a third way through the movie and she’s nice and relaxed and starting to warm up to Kathleen Kelly when Ted suddenly asks, “Hey, what was all that about the voicemail?”

“I think that was sex, Ted,” she replies absent-mindedly.

“Smart alec,” his fingers play with the hair on top of her head. She imagines she must look a state. “The other voicemail. You told me last night I should ignore that one just like I did the other one. What was that about?”

“Oh. Yes,” she grimaces. “That was nothing.”

“We tried that,” he dismisses. “I didn’t believe you the first time.”

“I thought this was your favourite movie. Don’t you want to watch it?”

“My favorite Meg Ryan movie,” he corrects her like it matters. “Wait, no, actually that’s When Harry Met Sally. Talk about a cultural reset, huh. But this one is my favorite Mom Ranks movie.” He pauses and she can just imagine the face he’s making. “Teg Hyan? Wow. These two do not lend themselves to a portmanteau, let me tell ya,” he says with some disapproval and Rebecca hopes he might have forgotten about the voicemail amidst all that rambling. “Well anyway.” Of course not. It’s Ted. “I was gonna ask you last night but then you distracted me with all the kissing.”

“Any chance that’ll work now?”

“Mmmm, probably,” he chuckles, his chest rumbling under her cheek. He mutes the telly. “C’mon now. Fess.”

Rebecca sucks in a breath. “The Tottenham match,” she says on an exhale. She really doesn’t want to talk about it. “The panic attack. I left you a voicemail. You never replied.”

“Rebecca.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

They sit in silence for long enough that she thinks he might have let it go when he starts speaking. “Hey, Ted, it’s me. I was a bit worried about you today, I hope you're okay. If you need me just please, do give me a call.”

Rebecca closes her eyes.

“Just that I’m on my way home to have a very difficult conversation with my mother and I could really do with one of your pep talks.”

He stops then. “I’m real sorry I wasn’t there to give you one,” he murmurs into her hairline.

“As it turned out, there was no need,” she comments simply, but he knows her better than that.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that, too,” he tells her sincerely and she nods into his chest. “And then you say, anyway. Take care.”

She feels like such a dick.

He drags his chin gently over the top of her head. “I know it by heart, Rebecca.” he muses softly. “If it was one of them audiotapes, I’d have worn it away, the amount I listened to it,” he huffs his voice full of fondness. “One time I almost accidentally deleted it and damn near had a heart attack.”

She can just imagine it, actually. “I wish you’d have given me a call, Ted,” she cranes her neck enough to meet his eyes. “I was worried sick about you.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to burden you, I guess.”

“You could never burden --” she rises up on her elbow to give him an incredulous look. “I want to know. Don’t you get that? I said if you need me to give me a call and you just -- didn’t,” she flings her hand in the air. “Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”

Ted’s brow is pinched, his eyes scanning her face. “Well I’ll be darned,” he says, thumbs the side of her neck softly. “You’re right. All the times I listened to that tape - and I wasn’t lyin’, Rebecca, I listened to it more times than I can count. Every time I needed to remind myself there were people who cared.” He swallows. “Who noticed. Who needed me.” Drawing in a long breath, he adds, “Every time I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“And all those times, it never occurred to you that I needed you to need me back?”

“I guess it didn’t, no.”

It breaks her heart. For him. For how alone that must have felt. He brushes a strand of hair away from her cheek, tucks it behind her ear. “I do, you know. Need you. As it so happens, I need you a heck of a lot.”

There’s something about the way he says it, like it’s difficult to admit, like he’s never allowed himself to need anyone else before, that takes her breath away. Cupping his face, she kisses him softly, nuzzles her nose in his cheek.

Settling back into him, she rests her face over his heart. She loves that heart.

His fingers are back in her hair. “That night, after the voicemail, I went to see Dr Fieldstone. Checked myself right in,” he chuckles.

“I didn’t know,” she says quietly.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t tell ya.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch about it. That jab was completely uncalled for.”

“Maybe not completely.”

“Yes, well, regardless. I was still a bitch.”

“Hey, now,” he lifts a stern finger. “Watch your language.”

She shakes her head. Just like Ted to defend her honour from herself.

“I guess I,” he muses. “I wanted to fix myself before I went and tried to build something here.”

She frowns at his words. ”I wish you would stop that. You don’t need fixing, Ted.”

“Some light tweaking, then,” he lifts a shoulder in the aw shucks way he has; it’s nothing but a front.

“I’ve never known anyone this good who’s this hard on himself. You exceed every single expectation I ever had, you know that right?”

“Mhmm, starting to get the idea.”

She wasn’t expecting him to give in that easily, had herself all geared up for a speech. “Well,” she purses her lips. “Good.”

“Oh, oh, this is the good bit,” Ted reaches for the remote to unmute just as Joe and Kathleen agree to meet.

Joe and Kathleen get their happily ever after, of course, in a predictable sort of way that she will say is cheesy but will secretly like. It’s comforting; the idea of things simply working out.

Kathleen tells Joe she was hoping it was going to be him and Rebecca wonders if she should tell him. She doesn’t want to bring it up again, but then she thinks he’d appreciate it.

“I was certain it was you,” she starts, turning her head to sneak a peek at him. “When I was texting Sam. I thought it was you.”

She was right. His smile is absurd. “Well how about that,” he muses. “Just like in the movies.”

 

.

 

Somehow they’ve shifted so that Ted is lying on his back on the sofa, one leg dangling down, and a very relaxed Rebecca sprawled half on top of him.

“Want me to fix us somethin’ to eat?” he asks, his fingers idly playing with her hair.

“Mhmmm,” she hums but makes no effort to move.

He chuckles. “Well alright then.”

Turning his eyes to the ceiling, he thinks about their conversation earlier. What he said. What he left out. He’s been meaning to talk to her about it for a little while now, never quite knowing how to broach the subject. Ted never talks about it with anyone, even the few who are aware of what happened. But with her, it feels like keeping secrets.

Ain’t love funny.

He keeps his voice even when he says, “My dad killed himself. I was in the house when it happened.” He feels her stop breathing. “How about that for pillow talk,” he adds to break the tension because it’s a lot to dump on someone out of the blue.

Rebecca lifts herself up to look at him. “Ted,” she whispers and he can see her eyes are filling with tears.

“Hey, hey,” he reaches up, brushes her cheek with his thumb. “None of that.”

“That’s why you…”

He’s not sure if she means had a panic attack or gone to therapy, but he guesses both are true. “Yeah.”

“Oh God, Ted, I am so sorry. So sorry.”

His chest is heavy but it’s not with anger and it’s not with fear. It sure makes a welcome change.

“Yeah, me too,” he admits. “He was a good guy. Before he -- Before.” He swallows, resists the urge to look away. “I wish he’d have met you. He would have loved you. That whole baggin’ yourself a football club in the divorce? Whew! Huge props. And your voice? Are you kidding me?”

No anger. Just grief. It feels freeing.

Rebecca reaches for his hand where it rests on the side of her neck, weaves their fingers together. Squeezing, she presses a soft kiss to his knuckles, to his cheek. “Ted,” she murmurs softly, brushing away a stray tear. He didn’t even realize he was crying. “Thank you for telling me.”

He exhales with relief. He’s glad she knows.

“So you see, it wasn’t all about you,” he raises his eyebrows as he swipes a quick hand under his eye, shoots her a sideways look, corner of his lips tugging up fondly.

She knows he’s trying to lighten up the mood and she’s having none of it. “I should have been there for you.”

“Don’t think I would have known how to let you,” he shrugs. “I needed something a bit stronger than true love.”

“I’m glad you went. I’m glad it helped.”

“Me, too. I hated every minute of it, don’t get me wrong, t’was like pullin’ teeth,” he chuckles. “But it had to be done. So I can be a better manager and a better friend. So I can be a better dad.” His lips tug with a small smile. “And yeah, so when you call me schnookered at midnight and tell me you might wanna kiss me, I’m not so scared of messing it up and making you unhappy that I never say anything.”

“You couldn’t. You could never make me -”

“Hey, hey,” he shakes his head, dismisses her concern. “I know, I know. It’s good. I’m good. Really.”

Rebecca cocks her head, not entirely convinced.

“Okay. Gettin’ there,” he concedes.

Pressing her forehead to his, she nods, nuzzles her nose against his and he breathes her in, holds her to him, and jesus he could drown in her. Capturing her lips with his own, once, twice, the kiss turning a little desperate.

He fists her hair, groaning. He wasn’t lying when he said he needed her.

They shift and she’s fully on top of him, straddling his hips as they continue to make out. His hands roam down her sides and lower, and god she’s so damn responsive, her body moving against his with every caress.

He thrust up and she bites his lower lip.

“This is not,” he gasps when she wedges a hand between them. “How I thought this conversation would go.”

She halts her movements. “If you need -”

He shuts her up with a kiss. “You,” he sucks on her bottom lip. “That’s about all I need.”

It’s hectic and needy and plenty chaotic. He pushes his pants down just enough that he’s not uncomfortable and she doesn’t bother taking her panties off, simply moves them to the side. Then she’s sinking down on him and he’s reaching for her, pulling her to until they’re flush together and he’s losing himself in her. Frantic at first, the kisses turn slower, matching the rhythm she’s setting as she slides along his cock.

“God, Rebecca,” he pants. “What are you doing to me.”

“You’re the one to talk,” she gasps out, sounding as helpless as he feels.

Gripping her hips, he stills her movements and he takes a moment, looks at her. She’s breathing heavily, her forehead a little damp, her pupils dilated. He’s sure getting used to this view.

He yanks hard, pulling her down at the same time as he thrusts up. She cries out and he sits up, captures it with his mouth.

“Right, quiet,” she murmurs into the kiss.

But the truth is --

“I don’t fuckin’ care,” he groans, kissing her again.

He comes chanting her name, over and over again, just her, the focal point of his entire universe.

 

.

They lie there spent and half dressed and Ted can’t be sure he hasn’t taken a nap. Rebecca is tracing shapes along his ribs with her finger; he’s struggling to lift any of his own.

Eventually, he feels her shift and squirm. She starts to speak then decides against it.

“What’s up?” he asks finally.

“I don’t know if I should,” she trails off. “Forget it.”

“Yorkshire.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Ted tries to look at her but it’s awkward from this angle. “Oklahoma just felt wrong.”

“We don’t need a bloody safe word, Ted.” She says it in a way that tells him she thought that whole thing was stupid.

She probably has a point.

“Okay.”

“I just wanted to tell you. Since we’re sharing,” she sighs. “My father.”

She stops there and Ted waits her out. Dad stories shouldn’t be rushed.

“When I was a teenager, I caught him in bed with another woman.”

Ted closes his eyes. “Crap.”

“Yeah,” she scoffs. “He was a real piece of fucking work.”

Ted takes her hand where it’s still restless on his side. “I’m real sorry about that.”

“Anyway,” she inhales. “Nothing as traumatic as,” she moves quickly on and he makes a mental note to circle back to that. “But last night you said that you’d like to punch Rupert - and as much as I would enjoy that on a very primal level,” she huffs. “I don’t think it started with him. My dad, that whole thing, really shattered the idea of one person forever for me. In a way, I suppose I just,” she plays with the lint on his shirt. “Gave up on the whole fairy-tale romance. Thought I’d simply grown up. And then Rupert came along and he was charming and older and,” her hand covers her face. “What a fucking disaster that was.”

Ted doesn’t say anything as they just lay there, his arm draped over her, their legs entwined.

“And now,” he breaks the silence. “Do you believe in it now?”

She lifts her chin to look at him. “It doesn’t seem quite so far-fetched.”

“No, it sure don’t.” He pats his fist on his chest. "Romcommunism. Never let's you down."

Groaning, she stretches, moves to sit up. “I really need to take a shower.”

“Food first?”

She’s up and buttoning up, a damn shame really, when she suddenly stops all movement. “Oh god, is that what I said. That I want to kiss you?”

It takes his brain a minute to catch up, what with the post orgasm haze it’s currently in.

Right, the voicemail. “Not in so many words,” he laughs.

“Oh.”

“Actually, in plenty more words than that.”

She covers her face with her hand. “What else,” she seems to bite the bullet.

“Oh you know,” he plays aloof. “That you have this huge crush on me.”

She groans. “I think we should burn your phone.”

“I know this one by heart, too,” he grins.

“I bet you do,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m glad you did, by the way. Say something.”

“I’m mighty glad myself,” he sits up. “And between you, me and Mrs Shipley,” he murmurs in her ear. “I have a massive crush on you, too.

That earns him a spectacular eye roll and he gives her nose a quick peck, shoots up. “Right then. Food!”

 

.

 

He makes food and she goes to take a shower - “It’s not a bubble bath but it will do the trick” - and he listens to the water running, thinking about Rebecca in his shower, washing off all the sex, smiling like an idiot.

The water turns off and he goes to dish up. She joins him eventually, hair wet, feet bare, goes for the kettle.

“I can make -“

“That’s fine. No offense, but your tea is terrible.”

“That’s what I’ve been sayin’!”

“No, your tea is terrible. Americans should not be in charge of tea. I’ll make my own, thank you very much.”

“Suit yourself,” he lifts his palms in surrender. He likes it though. Her using his kitchen like it’s her own.

“I should probably go home and get some spare clothes,” she muses as she waits for the boil.

“There’s plenty of shirts where that one came from.”

“Don’t you need to get ready for your dinner with Higgins?”

He’s eyeing her as he reaches for a cup. “Don’t s’pose you wanna come with?”

“Like a date?” she asks cautiously.

“Can be, yeah.” He’s letting her decide.

Taking the cup, adding milk, she mulls that over. “It's gonna spread like wildfire.”

“Yup,” he agrees readily.

“Everyone will know by Monday morning. Sunday night even,” she bites the inside of her lip as she pours the water. Shoots him a quick look, “Higgins is a terrible gossip.”

Ted chuckles, rocking on his feet. “True that.” He pauses. “You okay with that?”

Taking the cup with both hands, she takes a small sip, eyes him over the rim of the cup. “Let the fuckers talk.”

Grinning, Ted thinks this is the happiest he’s been in years. “Boy, I love you.” It’s as simple as that.

She almost chokes on her tea. His smile widens.

“You don’t have to say it back, you know,” he reassures her, not because he doubts her feelings for him - and ain’t that a nice change. But Rebecca can do things at her own time, on her own terms. He just really wants to say it. A lot.

She clears her throat, lets out a sharp laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Her eyes are glassy, her features soft. “I walked across the green in the middle of the night because you told me love would be worth it. I’m prepared to spend the afternoon dodging surreptitious glances from Higgins. I might as well be shouting it from the rooftops.”

“Actions speak louder than words, I hear ya,” he nods. “I’m a big believer that relationships should --”

She’s right next to him all of a sudden, her palm cupping the side of his neck. “I love you too, Ted,” she plants a kiss on his cheek as she goes to sit down for food.

Tucking his chin in, he shakes his head. “Well there ya have it.” Glancing over, he thinks she looks mighty pleased with herself with that maneuver.

He doesn't mind one bit.

Grabbing the food, he brings it over.

He watches her sitting there across from him - in his kitchen, in his shirt, in his life - making small sounds of pleasure as she eats her eggs and drinks that god awful excuse for a beverage, and yep.

Things always work out exactly as they're supposed to.