Chapter Text
I cannot fix on the hour, or on the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.
It starts in a way Rebecca doesn’t immediately recognize.
She’s had enough experience in her love life to know that usually, the feelings are instantaneous. With her first crush, with her school boyfriends, with the guy she had lived with for five years after uni. With Rupert. The feelings of attraction, of a possible future, bubble inside her chest from the moment she sees the men she’s fallen in love with. Not like the lightning Roy describes, but like champagne, easy to swallow and even easier to get drunk on.
With Ted it’s more like tea. Smooth, stabilizing, and always comforting. Easy to miss because it’s more than a habit, it becomes a key part of her before she can think too much about it, slotting into her life as smoothly as her 2 PM cuppa.
It’s how are you holding up and biscuits with the boss and you are wearing the heck out of it and try to breathe and better manners when I'm holding a dart and I’m a fucking bitch and I forgive you and you liven up the place.
We have work to do.
Is he nice to you?
You deserve someone who makes you feel like you’ve been struck by fucking lightning.
And yes, it’s fucking lightning, but the lightning during a storm in the middle of the night, not the monsoon she expects.
She’s always been terrible at subtle cues.
The dating apps were the worst idea.
Part of the blame falls to Sassy and Keeley, who after her breakup with John tell her that she is forbidden from having a serious romantic attachment for at least three months because she needs to, quote, ‘get her brains properly fucked out.’
“I mean think about it,” Sassy says with a hiccup after her fifth glass of cabernet, hanging nearly upside-down on Rebecca’s couch, “The last proper no-strings-attached shag you’ve had, other than that waiter in Liverpool, was fifteen years ago. And we know John was fine, but you deserve more than fine, you deserve mind-blowing orgasms.”
Keeley nods sagely from the armchair, scrolling through Rebecca’s photos on her phone to try to find the ones she deems best for her new profile. “Honestly babes, there is a whole new world out there for you. You’re fucking fit. Any man with a brain would be dying to please you.”
“Oh please,” Rebecca responds with an eyeroll, refilling her wine, “I am a divorced 45 year old. I’m sure I’m old enough to be the mother of half the ones on it, and the other half aren’t interested in used goods. I’m more likely to find the sword in the fucking stone than a fuck buddy.”
She takes a giant swallow, cowering under the stares of her two closest friends. “Rebecca,” Keeley starts, putting the phone down so Rebecca knows she is being serious, “We wouldn’t be saying any of this if we didn’t believe it wholeheartedly. You are an incredible woman who deserves to be made happy. If you say no? Fine, we’ll stop. But you are fucking magical, and there are scores of men who will bend over backwards for even the smallest chance of you returning their feelings. Serious or not.”
Rebecca inhales sharply, tells herself that her reluctance is because of her nerves, her age, fucking Rupert destroying her self-confidence. Because Keeley is right: she’s a catch, and she deserves to play around. Remind herself what she was missing out on during her twelve years of misery.
“Fine, let’s do this,” she says and beams when Sassy and Keeley cheer, "But please make sure you set the lower limit at 30. At the very least, I want to make sure that whoever comes up is age-appropriate and won't end up with The Sun accusing me of being a cradle robber."
“Age appropriate, Stinky?! Oh! I’ll call Marlboro Man and see if he’ll give you a mustache ride as a favor,” Sassy cackles, sliding off the couch with a thunk and an ow, fuck, as Rebecca and Keeley laugh and Rebecca shuts down the feeling that emerges at the thought of…
Impossible. Because sleeping with your gaffer, who has also slept with your oldest best friend, is weird.
In hindsight, maybe she should have taken Sassy up on that offer. Maybe then she would have figured herself out before making a mess of everything.
The turning point, she realizes later on, is her father’s funeral.
She feels guilty about keeping…things from Ted, but he’s keeping things from her too, if her as-of-yet unacknowledged frantic voicemails following his panic attack and his late arrival at said funeral is any indication. Tit for tat; fair is fair, Rebecca thinks. But it doesn’t matter what is going on behind the scenes, what matters is that he is here for her now, lifting her up and carrying her through the song when she can’t do it herself.
She has enough presence of mind to ask if everything is alright. He assures her he will be okay, and it helps a little, watching him straighten his back and look her in the eye with confidence. So Rebecca does all she really can do without her mother asking too many questions, nod and smile and tell herself he’d never lie to her about something like that and watch him walk off with a slight pep in his step towards -
She desperately tamps down the feeling of jealousy that curls in her gut watching Ted and Sassy walk off together.
She’s buried her father and broken up with Sam - sweet, wonderful Sam - within the span of a few short hours. Of course she’s jealous they’re going off for a quick shag.
And if the little voice in the back of her head that tells her no, that’s not really why she’s jealous, well. Rebecca doesn’t want to think about that, not with her mother and Rupert and the whole team watching.
Besides, despite Ted being her age, it doesn’t get rid of the issue that he, like Sam, is her employee.
And the fact that even if he wasn’t he would never - could never -
She’s too cold, and repressed, and they are the very best opposite-sex friends.
He’s also never made her feel the way others have, so there. It can’t be that. It’s only because she’s in a heightened emotional state. That’s all.
Rebecca sighs, and turns her attention back to her mother. A few rounds of Never Gonna Give You Up and tequila may not be the best solution, but at least it’ll help make things alright, at least for a little while.
(It doesn’t.)
It happens on a Tuesday afternoon, three-and-a-half months after the Second Annual Truth Bomb Dropping.
The hunt for new sponsors and keeping investors happy and updated salary caps and potential new signings and dealing with the fallout from Nate’s defection and Keeley starting her new company means Rebecca’s stress levels are running dangerously high. And to make matters worse, Ted pulls back. Yes, on the surface it looks like they’re still close, but while he stays perfectly friendly and affable he’s distracted during biscuits with the boss and their other meetings are strictly professional and end disappointingly on time, no folksy anecdotes or questions like if you could be a flower, which would you be?
Rebecca tells herself that Ted pulling back doesn’t bother her as much as it does; that it’s either a recommendation from his new therapist, or nerves from his promise to win the whole fucking thing. Encourages him, with a smile, to go back to Kansas and spend time with Henry to help him get his head on straight. If they’re going to win the whole fucking thing, they need him to be at his best, and he’s always at his best after being around his son.
And if she seethes with jealousy when Roy and Beard and others tell her about the texts he’s sent them from Kansas, whereas she’s only gotten one picture (him and Henry on the porch at Ted’s mother’s house that she instantly saves as Ted’s contact picture in her phone) and a few cursory, business-related conversations?
It’s because she misses her friend, obviously.
So on said Tuesday afternoon, when Higgins offhandedly shows her the text he had sent to a groupchat titled “Diamond Dogs Minus Nate Plus Keeley,” (what in the hell was a Diamond Dog anyways?), she can’t hide the sheer hurt and jealousy that rolls over her face before she can tamp it down.
Higgins has enough presence of mind to notice and scuttle out of her office quickly, and she’s grateful for that, so that she doesn’t bite the poor man’s head off over something that isn’t his fault.
Rebecca desperately wishes she had one of Ted’s biscuits to calm her down, because about the only other thing she wants to do is fire off an angry text that says I know you were lying when you said you were fine when I told you about Sam but I don’t think that deserves the silent treatment, and that would only make things worse.
Because this new Ted isn’t her Ted. Her Ted brings her freshly made biscuits because he wants to spend time with her and her Ted makes her feel seen when she’s dealing with Rupert and her Ted is forgiving when she doesn’t deserve it and her Ted makes her feel safe and secure and suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck are standing up and goose pimples form on her arms and her gut roils and struck by fucking lightning and -
And oh.
Oh God.
Oh fuck.
She’s in love. Has been, for a long time.
With Ted.
Rebecca groans and sinks back into her chair. Of course she would realize this now, when she doesn’t know if their relationship will ever be the same once he comes back and knowing there’s a chance his next season is his last with Richmond. She swallows thickly, and decides to push it all down and deal with it later.
After all, they have a Premier League to win.