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“D’ya hear that?” Ted’s moustache twitches as he fights a teasing- and rather tired- grin. He waits for Trent’s eyes to fall on him, an already fondly exasperated look on the ex-journalist's face. “It’s oh so quiet.” He sings with a smile, swaying his hips in a way that's more conductive of a 'dad dance' than it is alluring, although it certainly has the desired effect on his partner all the same.
“You best not go falling in love then, Coach Lasso.” Trent replies. There's a playful glint in his eyes and a faint blush painting his cheeks as he watches Ted sashay his way towards him.
“Ah heck, it’s a little too late for that now ain’t it, Trent Crimm, not so independent ?” He chuckles quietly at his own joke, letting the invisible string between them pull him closer to the ex-journalist.
“I'm inclined to believe it is.” Trent admits, his smile softening as he pushes himself off the doorframe, closing the distance between them and letting his hands fall low on Ted’s waist.
“Much as I’d love to continue this, and I’m definitely gonna be needing a raincheck, Mr Crimm, I think we best skedaddle our butts over to the kitchen.” He's reluctant to dislodge Trent's fingers from where they've inched underneath his Wichita State t-shirt. But he slips their hands together regardless, slotting his fingers under Trent's own as he pulls the pouting man with him towards his kitchen.
And with such a look on the team biographer’s face, what’s a man to do but have a minor brain lapse that has Ted faltering for a second; torn between the need to push the other man up against the wall and take that bottom lip between his teeth, and the knowledge that both of their children are sleeping soundly mere feet away and could, realistically, wake at any moment.
“If we must, love.” Trent relents, unaware of Ted's inner crisis. He takes the lead, guiding the American gaffer into the kitchen with a gentle squeeze to his hand.
With the two children tucked safely into bed, and the flat finally quiet, Ted and Trent find themselves surrounded by the remnants of a day well-enjoyed. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, crumbs and flour scattered across the countertops where Ted had led a biscuit making masterclass earlier that evening. A masterclass that led to more mess than it did edible biscuits after little miss Crimm accidentally mixed up the sugar and salt, much to her disappointment. It was only when Ted told her that nothing would stop Rebecca from enjoying them that her frown turned upside down. And when he promised to make an extra special batch ready for the next time they were all together, well no one could blame Trent for the subtle pressure he felt burning the back of his eyes.
With a quick glance towards the living room, they see legos and crayons as far as the eye can see. Scribble covered papers sit precariously on the edge of the coffee table, the TV glowing with the loading menu for Turning Red. All in all, the room displays a testament to the joy and chaos of their day.
It takes only a wordless look for them both to turn their attention to the kitchen, the rest of the flat would be a task left to handle in the morning, a problem for their future selves to deal with after copious cups of tea and coffee.
Side by side, they tackle the day’s mess, their movements synchronised as they effortlessly navigate the dance of freshly discovered domesticity. Trent washes the dishes while Ted wipes down the work surfaces, their conversation never once being lost to a lull as they mentally wind down from a long day of keeping two young children entertained and alive; two very important life-skills for a parent to learn.
It’s not often they have them both at the same time, being co-parents means working around multiple schedules and rarely does that schedule suit everyone perfectly. Certainly it’s made easier by Michelle and Henry now living only one town over in Twickenham. One weekend a month it falls so both Trent’s daughter and Ted’s son overlap in their visits, and while they all enjoy this new family dynamic, both men are still learning the joys- and exhaustion - of multiple children running circles around them.
As they work together, their hands occasionally brush against one another. A soft placed palm on Trent’s lower back as Ted drifts by him. A teasing flick of water from Trent while Ted reaches around him for a clean dish cloth. Small shows of affection that leave them both with a warmth emanating through their chests. And amidst the clinking of clean plates and the humming of an American gaffer, they both revel in the joined life they're creating together–a life that's messy, imperfect, and so completely beautiful they wouldn't want to change a single thing about it.
With the kitchen finally restored to its original state, Ted can't resist the urge to have Trent in his arms once more, pulling him into a warm embrace by his belt loops, hands loosely falling around his middle, resting softly on his hips.
He presses a gentle kiss to the juncture where Trent's jaw meets his neck, a barely there touch that sends a shiver through the shorter man. It’s a spot that Ted had found early on, Trent’s very own achilles heel that has his knees weakening and his body slumping heavily into Ted’s more solid frame.
As they stand there, in the heart of Ted's kitchen, surrounded by the echoes of their family's laughter, Trent rests his head in the crook of his partner’s neck. He sighs contentedly, letting his eyes drift closed as he enjoys the simple pleasure of being held by someone so very dear to him.
And in that moment, Ted smiles. A quiet, soft smile, at the promise of a future filled with love, laughter and shared kitchen clean-ups.