Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They sit there for a second, eyes locked and full of mirth, her self-satisfied smirk as she takes another sip, drops of tea rolling down his rounded cheeks, and then it’s over, they’re both cackling, her deep belly laugh that she rarely lets out mixing with his pleased giggle. She feels giddy, silly in a way that used to feel familiar but hasn’t as of late, free. She manages another sip of tea, actually swallowing this time, but not before Ted can jerk his arms up in surrender, eliciting a fresh burst of laughter from both of them.

“Yep, yep, yep,” he says, once breaths have been caught. “I deserved that. How long you been gearin’ up for that payback?” he asks, gratefully reaching for the tea towel she’s pulled from somewhere and dabbing at his face. He’s not mad, not even in the slightest, because he treasures every moment he gets to see this side of Rebecca, this uninhibited, silly, mysterious side that she keeps so fiercely guarded. 

“A while,” she answers with an evasive grin. “But I was waiting until it felt right. And now,” she says, with a more serious deep breath, taking a minute to put the right words to the overriding feeling of the past twenty-four hours, “Now that I feel… free of Rupert and the maelstrom of shit he brings wherever he goes, it felt like a good time to release it into the universe. And you know, your face,” she gestures with a faint blush.

“Well, release it you did,” says Ted wryly, gesturing to the small wet spots on his jumper. “But hey, I’m really… I’m really glad you feel free. You deserve that,” and more , he thinks, but doesn’t quite find the nerve to say. A spot of color hits higher on her cheeks as she plucks the sincerity from his words and the fondness in his eyes, a funny sort of almost ache in her belly, and she stands up quickly to shake off the unnerving (yet not wholly unfamiliar) feeling. 

Ted takes his cue from her, and, with a small smile, heads towards the door. And then pauses for a moment, thinks of what she’s just offered - a vulnerability of sorts, he supposes, letting him see a fuller picture of her, offering these little snippets of herself that he knows she’s self conscious of, knows she clutches onto tightly. 

It’s Sharon’s voice in his head, as it often is, that prompts him to reflect for a  moment, stood halfway in the doorframe to her office. Sharon’s been asking a lot of leading questions lately about relationships, about giving and taking in equal measure, about Rebecca specifically, which he tries not to dwell too long on, a practiced nonchalant look in Sharon’s eyes as she mentions Rebecca.

But he is trying, he truly is, and he does feel like it’s helping, a bit, these hours that leave him feeling beat up inside but also slightly hopeful, and it’s with that feeling in mind that he takes a deep breath and turns. She catches the movement and glances up, quirking an eyebrow.

“Hey uh, actually Boss? I was actually hopin’ I could ask you for a small favor. Well, a favor,” he pauses, blows out a bit of air. “Actually kind of a big favor, now that I’m actually askin’ for it, so you know what, you go ahead and just ignore me, I’m gonna head on downstairs and see what’s cooking in the coaches office, Beard’s been experimenting-” as he’s been rambling, Rebecca has moved closer, past the couch and to him, and he startles slightly when she places a hand on her arm. 

“Ted,” she says softly. “Breathe.” She raises her eyebrows with the command, waiting until he raises his eyes up to meet hers. She gives him an encouraging nod, and he does as instructed, taking several deep breaths while focusing on the warmth her hand provides, the reassurance in her eyes. “You’re all right?” she asks, a question and a statement all in one, and he takes one last deep breath and nods. 

“I talk to Sharon. Every Wednesday? After practice,” he states, running a hand through his hair.

“Training,” Rebecca inserts automatically, and for half a beat she wants to cringe, because the semantics are not really the point , Rebecca, Ted is clearly trying to tell you something, but he twitches a grin in her direction and she relaxes.

“After training,” he amends. “Sharon and I have a weekly phone call, after training on Wednesdays,” he re-states, more sure of himself, bolstered by the lack of judgment in Rebecca’s face, just slight confusion and something softer lurking behind it. She doesn’t say anything, just gives him space to continue, and he trudges along. 

“It’s uh… it’s not always super fun? Actually, scratch that, it’s usually gosh darn terrible. That doc sure knows how to press where it hurts,” he adds with a weak laugh, and there’s her quiet, 

“Ted-” and her hand is reaching towards him instinctively, and when he grasps it in his own, she gives a little squeeze.

“No, no, it’s alright. I mean, it’s not, but it’s necessary. Even though it’s bad, it’s good. You know what I mean?” he asks, and she finds herself nodding, because of course she knows what he means, she always knows what he means when it matters, and he nods too like he knew she’d know. 

“Sometimes - most of the time - I feel pretty, well, empty, after. And the doc, she’s pretty smart, she suggested having something planned for after, to uh, fill me back up, so to speak,” and this is where Ted swallows because what he’s about to ask is a pretty big ask, and he’s never been good at asking for help, in fact he’s excelled for a long time at precisely the opposite, and it’s Rebecca and for reasons he doesn’t let himself stay on for long, he’s absolutely certain that a rejection from her would be crippling, far worse than if Higgins, or Roy, or even Beard, turned him down. 

But then he looks back at her, and she’s just looking at him, just, waiting for him to be ready to say whatever it is he has to say, and she gives him what she hopes is an encouraging smile, and he licks his lips before continuing. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to meet me for dinner on Wednesdays after my sessions. At mine? I’m usually a little too drained to want to go out, but I can cook so you don’t gotta do any extra work or anything, and you know, I’m not gonna hold you to it if somethin’ better comes up, but I just,” he trails off. “I just thought I’d ask. I’m trying,” he breaks off again, “I’m trying to be better at asking for help.”

When he meets her eyes this time, he sees warmth and pride, and that same soft something he can’t name, and he can’t help but feel reassured, that worry in his gut ebbing away slowly, replaced with this lovely sort of fullness he’s come to associate with being with her.

Rebecca’s heart feels like it’s breaking a bit for a dozen reasons; that Ted has been struggling with this, that he’s going through things she hasn’t been privy to, how hard it seems to be for him to ask, that he’d ask her , the hope marred by resignation in his eyes. 

“Dinners after your sessions,” she says slowly, clarifying. “That would…help you? Fill you up, metaphorically speaking?” Her voice is quiet, and he responds in kind.

“Dinners with you? Yeah, I think - yeah, they would,” he says with such sincerity it almost steals Rebecca’s breath. She’s vaguely aware that they’re still holding hands, and she gives his one last little squeeze before tugging hers back, feeling a slight sense of bereft as the loss of his warmth registers.

“Consider it done, Ted,” she smiles tremulously. And then, in what has somehow turned into a game of emotional badminton, volleys something back at him. “But, would you mind… could I cook? For us?”  

“Oh, well, I don’t wanna put more work on you, Boss, I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble for me,” he says, and there’s that heartbreak again, that he thinks it’s so far fetched that someone would want to make a meal to share with him, and she bites her lip momentarily.

“Actually, cooking is one of my hobbies, and I’d rather like to share it with you,” she says, and she watches as his eyebrows shoot up.

“You cook?” he can’t keep the surprise out of his voice, and Rebecca scoffs.

“Should I be offended at how shocked you are?” she asks pointedly, and Ted smiles at her with chagrin.

“Sorry, Boss. I just didn’t know. I kinda like it, though, learning new things about you,” he adds softly, and her heart stutters a bit in her chest.

“We had a housekeeper, growing up. Her name was Susannah and she was so kind to me, the only person in the house who made a point to ask me questions, to care if I was upset. She was a fantastic cook, and I spent many evenings that would’ve been quite lonely otherwise at her elbow,” she shares, and Ted’s heart breaks just a little bit for the little girl Rebecca was.

“Anyway, I have always loved to cook, I even wanted to go to culinary school, but my parents wouldn’t allow it, so I mostly stopped, and then Rupert,” she rolls her eyes, and Ted’s blood pressure spikes the way it does with any mention of that name, “ obviously trophy wives aren’t meant to do that kind of manual labor ,” she rolls her eyes again, and Ted can’t help but interject -

 “Good golly he is the absolute worst,”

 - “but anyway, I’ve recently got back into it, and I’d forgotten how fun it is to just… create something, and enjoy it. And to just say fuck it to counting calories and watching macros and all that other horseshit Rupert used to go on about -” another interjection - 

“the absolute worst -”

“Anyway, I’d love to get the chance to cook for someone other than myself, so really you’d almost be doing me a favor, too,” she says, knowing he’d never refuse those terms, and he does in fact concede. 

“Well alright then,” he says with a small smile.  “Okay, I should probably get goin’, last time I let Roy start practice he tied everyone’s danglers together-”

“He did what?” Rebecca shudders a laugh, her voice rising on the last word like he knows it does when she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “Actually you know what, no, I don’t even want to know,” she shakes her head, and Ted grins. He turns to leave, but stops just short of his customary high five to her coat tree.

“Thanks, Rebecca. Just, for - well, thanks,” he says, words coming out slightly rushed.. “I appreciate you.” The sincerity she finds in his eyes courses through Rebecca, aches almost, and she hopes he can feel hers in return as she answers him.

“I appreciate you, Ted. Always,” she says, and if she’s not mistaken his shoulders lower infinitesimally more. “And,” she says, dropping her eyes, emboldened by his own vulnerability but not quite ready to let him see all of hers, “I’m proud of you, for asking for something you need. God knows I’m bloody terrible at it, so good for you.” He flushes at her words, dips his head in acknowledgement, and lingers for just a second longer before nodding again and heading out the door. 

The next Wednesday, Rebecca texts Ted during her 3pm finance call. She can hear him running training outside her window and normally would just throw it open and yell down to him, but their planned evening together feels a bit more personal - not secret really, she told Keeley about it during lunch yesterday, but just...their own, and so, as James somebody from some department of this football team she owns recites numbers on end, she pulls up their text thread and types.

What time should I come over?

Are you allergic to anything?

              7 work for you? And mushrooms.

You’re not allergic to mushrooms, Ted, you just don’t like them.

             If you don’t like them hard enough, pretty sure that’s an allergy.

🙄 See you at 7. 

She’s spent all week thinking about what to make Ted - what meal will say, “I’m here for you, I want you to trust me with your thoughts and demons, I’m sorry you just got the metaphorical shit kicked out of you by a woman I personally find very disarming” - and she’s finally settled on homemade chicken pot pies and a parmesan kale caesar salad; she knows he’ll eat any salad with enough cheese on top, and she wants him to feel warm, homey, comforted.

[It took her the better part of her lunch hour with Keeley to decide between pot pies and Shepherd’s pie, talking herself in circles, listing the pros and cons of each option (pot pies, more American, Shepherd’s pie, more leftovers) as Keeley listened with growing amusement, until she’d taken pity on Rebecca and stopped her with a gentle,

“Babe, I’m pretty sure you could serve Ted a pile of horseshit with a side of vinegar and he’d tell you he loved it, but go with the pot pies, yeah?”]

She thinks about Keeley's words as she's rolling out the pie dough later that evening, about how that's really rather the whole point isn't it, that of course Ted would eat anything anyone offered and surely offer a plethora of compliments beside, but she wants to get it exactly right, she wants to hit it bang on so that Ted doesn't have to pretend with her. Somehow, he'd managed to get it bang on with the shortbread, and she feels so pleasantly exposed that he could see exactly what it is she needed, she wants to give that right back to him. So she measures everything extra diligently, and if she presses her fingers to her lips and then to the tops of the unbaked pies, imbuing them with love in some sort of fit of superstition she'd never admit to, well, then that's just for her to know.

When she manages to balance the box of food she’s brought and ring the buzzer, it’s hardly thirty seconds before Ted is opening the door in front of her, grabbing the box, and leading her up the stairs. He looks okay, he thinks, tired but not exhausted, smile small but sincere.

“Thanks again, for this,” he says, setting the box on the counter and turning to face her. “You didn’t have to -“

“Ted,” Rebecca says with fond exasperation. “Do you often see me do things I don’t want to do?”

“Well, I mean, I’ve seen you on finance calls, I’ve seen you talk to sexist shareholders. I’ve seen ya face to face with Rupert and not punch him,” he ticks off, and she rolls her eyes.

“Outside of work,” she amends, quirking an eyebrow at him. “I’m happy to be here. Don’t thank me again or I’m taking the pot pies home,” she warns, and his face lights up. 

“Pot pies?! You made pot pies, from scratch? For me?”

“For us,” she corrects fondly. “And yes. Now, either pour me a glass of wine or sit down,” she directs, beginning to unpack the food.

“Yes ma’am,” he responds, moving behind her to grab the corkscrew. It feels natural, moving around each other in his little kitchen, him pointing to the correct drawer when she turns around, without even having asked out loud where the silverware lives. He hands her a glass of wine as she’s tossing the salad, chatting idly about his day, mentioning how happy Roy’s seemed this week-

“I mean, I know it’s a relative term with our fine furry friend, but he’s definitely got that juh-nu-say-kwa about him,” he says, and Rebecca’s immediate, perfect, 

“Je ne sais quoi,” follows. He spots a knowing glance on her face and he raises his eyebrows at her.

“Wait, what do you know, Welton?” He plucks a piece of cheese from atop the salad as she moves it over to the table, and she shrugs.

“Thought you didn’t like gossip, Ted,” she points out with amusement.

“Well who’s callin’ it gossip? I think I’ve been pretty clear about my stance on scuttlebutt, so maybe it’s a matter of semantics, here.” He grins at her and bats his eyelashes exaggeratedly, drawing a laugh from Rebecca as they sit.

“Well, I believe it’s Roy’s butt that’s scuttled into gear,” she drops, leaning forward, Ted mirroring. “He and Keeley are figuring things out. Taking it slow, but Keeley is cautiously optimistic.”

“You know, I always hoped those two crazy kids would find their way back to each other. Kind of felt like the universe was outta whack when they broke up, didn’t it?”

“It did,” Rebecca agrees. “Seven of my blouses are forever ruined.”

It’s a peaceful, settled quiet that surrounds them as they begin to eat. Ted’s a forkful in when it hits him how absolutely delicious his pot pie is, the flavors solid and comforting and rich.

“Holy heck, Rebecca, this is amazing,” he tells her, and she grins shyly. “Like, really really good. Like Michelin star good,” he adds, and Rebecca laughs.

“Alright, now, let’s not take it that far. But thank you, Ted.”

“Thank you , I can’t believe you made this! Jesus Rebecca, how many more special talents you got up those fancy sleeves of yours?” He asks, mostly rhetorically, because he’s fairly certain there’s not a lot Rebecca wouldn’t be fantastic at - and he’s debating if there’s anything at all when her voice, a bit lower than normal, breaks through with a sly,

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” and yes , he really really would, and though he knows she didn’t mean it to sound as suggestive as it did, he can’t unhear it, and he blushes hotly, shoveling another bite into his mouth. For her part, Rebecca does seem to recognize how her words came out, and her blush mirrors his own. 

“Anyway,” she clears her throat a bit. “Do you - did you - I mean, I don’t know if part of the whole, post-therapy dinner thing is talking about it, or avoiding it completely, or if there’s even such a thing as a good therapy session?” She’s rambling, the way she does when she’s nervous, when she’s unsure of her footing but is trying so hard and earnestly to express her concern or interest, and Ted feels a familiar fondness settle over him with every half thought that comes out of her mouth.

“I appreciate you askin’,” he starts, and then stops, gauging his own words. “It was… it was okay, yeah,” he says slowly, trying to figure out how much to share, how much he wants to share, how much she wants to hear.

[ “What if, instead of assuming that the people who care about you feel burdened when you share your actual feelings with them, you think about how they might feel shut out when you don’t?” was a question Sharon had posed to him today, and it hit him square in the chest, as no doubt she had intended, forcing him to stop and reckon with that potential truth.]

“Ted, you don’t have to-” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“I know, I know you ain’t gonna make me spill my guts,” he says, and she nods. “But the doc keeps insinuating that maybe I’m not actually doin’ y’all a favor keeping you in the dark, re: my feelings,” His brow is furrowed and she wants nothing more than to reach over, use her thumb to soothe and smooth the wrinkles away, she actually itches with it, the desire to physically comfort him, but she resists, instead remaining quiet, waiting for him to continue. 

Ted’s trying to order his thoughts, and he wants to want to be honest and open with her, but it’s scary, and hard, and something he’s used to avoiding so steadfastly that it’s a hard habit to break. But she’s not pushing him forward, and she’s not running for the door, so he takes his time, measures his words.

“We’ve been talking a lot about my dad,” he says finally. “And about how I’ve been letting his death impact my life,” his voice breaks a little, and he takes a deep inhale, feeling a wave of anxiety that threatens to come ashore but pushing forward regardless. “It’s hard. It’s hard every day. It’s hard talkin’ about it, and it’s hard livin it, and I’m tired of lettin’ it be that hard.”

She’s moving on instinct, out of her seat and in front of him in a flat second before she throws her arms around him, knees hitting the floor awkwardly. Her hand clings to the back of his head, and though he’s startled for a moment, he sinks into the embrace, letting the strength and solidness of her settle him, the mixture of smells that coalesce into a distinctly Rebecca scent acting as a balm to his soul.

He takes the several moments she gives, breathing her in, relishing in her closeness, and then he pulls back slightly, and she loosens her grasp on him. 

“Your knees must be killin’ ya,” he murmurs, and she shakes her head.

“A little, but it’s worth it. Sorry, I know I’m not the best at this sort of thing, Keeley’s so much better, or do you want me to call Beard? I can-” as her ramble returns, Ted’s heart does the clenching with fondness thing it does, and he cuts her off as he stands, pulling her with him.

“You’re doin’ just fine. Better than fine, actually, A plus work,” he says kindly, and her nervous energy deflates.

“Oh - good, good. That’s good. Great,” she flusters, and he can’t help but just grin at her for a second before she continues. “God, it’s getting late. Sorry for keeping you so long. I should be heading home,” she says, catching sight of the numbers on his microwave. But she doesn’t make a move to do anything of the sort, and it’s been so lovely and homey having her here, filling his space with her kindness and wittiness and mystery, and he’s talking before he even thinks about it.

“Or you could stay? We could watch one of those depressing British murder mysteries you like? Where it’s always raining and the screen’s so dark you can’t even see what’s happening?” He tries to sound nonchalant, like either option of her leaving or staying is completely fine with him, but he’s relieved nonetheless when a shy grin breaks out on her face.

“Do you have any popcorn?”

Chapter Text

 The next Wednesday, as they are finishing up their shrimp scampi with lemon butter asparagus - 

 [“Did you know that up to fifty percent of people’s pee smells after asparagus? Beard’s doesn’t, but mine does. Does yours?” Ted had asked, then immediately, having realized what he had said, looked mortified. With a,

“I typically don’t make a habit of discussing urine over the dinner table,” Rebecca had smirked, sipped her wine, then taken pity on him and dropped the pretense. “In fact, mine does. As does Keeley’s. Couldn’t tell you about Roy’s, or Higgins’, I don’t care to find out.”

“Fair, that’s fair,” Ted had laughed, relieved he hadn’t ruined the mood, elated that Rebecca was allowing herself to be so casual.]

-Ted’s phone begins to chime with the sounds of an incoming FaceTime call. 

“Ah, shoot, sorry, I forgot - that’s Henry. We had to bump our call up since he’s got a school thing tonight,” he explains. “Some sort of spring festival, the second graders are doin’ some sort of performance.”

“Ted, you never have to apologize for talking to your son,” she reminds him, and he nods in appreciation.

“Right, thanks. Okay, well I can just -,” he motions to the other room, makes to stand, and Rebecca frowns.

“You’re more than welcome to stay in here, Ted, it’s your own kitchen. I don’t mind at all. Unless you do? I can go,” She says, her voice uncertain. She’s said hello to Henry on the phone many times over the past few months, he always gives her a bright smile, one so reminiscent of his father’s that it’s instinctive to return one just as bright. But Ted usually drifts away, finds a private, quiet space to talk to his son. Perhaps Ted doesn’t want an intruder on his time with Henry, and she’s suddenly floundering, embarrassed.

But Ted frowns, waves her worries away. “No, no, stay. Hang on,” he says, pressing his phone and scooching his chair closer to hers and soon Henry’s grinning face is filling the screen.

“Hi dad!” The seven year old greets happily, and Ted can feel his own smile grow larger, if possible.

“Hey bud! Hey, I’ve got a special guest here. You got three guesses, ready, go!” He keeps the phone tilted so Henry can’t see Rebecca, and he smiles at her conspiratorially. Rebecca softens even further at the sight of this Ted, dad Ted, one of her favorite versions of this man she’s grown to adore.

“It’s Rebecca!” Henry says without a hint of hesitation, and Ted laughs, impressed, as Rebecca’s eyebrows shoot up, righting herself as she’s pulled into frame.

“Dang, got it in one! How’d ya know?”

“Dad, it’s always Rebecca,” Henry states matter of factly, and he’s much too young and oblivious to see the slight blush rise on both their faces. Because he’s right, after all. As of late, it is always Rebecca. She’s there many a  Sunday afternoon, when Ted calls Henry from his walk around the green. She’s at the pub on Thursdays after the Great British Bake Off, more often than not, Ted’s at her place after every home match, celebrating with some variety of Beard, Roy, Keeley and the Higgins’.

Rebecca herself hadn’t even pieced together just how much time they’d been spending in each other’s presence, because it felt natural, having him by her side. It felt right, when he’d slide into the bench on the green where she’d been reading all afternoon, and she’d wordlessly hand him a pastry from the bag at her feet while he said goodbye to his son. It felt right when she’d sidle into the coach’s office after a game, and hop onto his desk to plan the rest of the evening’s course. It felt right that he knew his way around her kitchen, had found the extra dish soap the other week faster than even she had (she’s not sure why Mina had it next to the sink rather than under it, anyway.) Having Ted in her orbit felt so completely commonplace in the best possible way that it was the time they weren’t together of which she was acutely aware, those minutes and hours and days passing by almost achingly slowly, lonely.

“Hello, Henry,” Rebecca says warmly, taking in the sweet sight of Henry’s freckles and messy hair, the one piece in front always reminding her of Ted’s unruly bit. “How did your baseball game go this week?” She asks, eyes focused on his little face filling the screen, missing the way Ted’s own soften as she engages with his son.

“It was okay. We lost but I hit a double! That’s when you get all the way to second base,” he explains. “Do you guys know about baseball over there?” He asks with a slight frown, ready to explain further.

“We do, a bit,” Rebecca nods. “But I appreciate the clarification,” she says with a smile. “Well done, then, Henry!”

“Thanks! Dad, Declan’s dad is taking him to a Royals game tomorrow. Can we go to one when you’re here?” Henry’s attention switches back to his father, and Rebecca feels a slight sense of loss, though it’s tempered immediately by the rapt attention and love she can feel emanating from Ted toward his son.

“Sure, bud, let’s look at the calendar and we’ll pick a good one to go to, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan!” Henry agrees easily, and then launches into a complicated story about his class’s pet turtle, baseball cards, and some kerfuffle at lunchtime that Rebecca can’t seem to make any sense of, but Ted’s nodding along as if in complete understanding, so Rebecca tunes out a bit and just watches. She sees how Ted keeps his eyes focused, bright and loving, asking questions intermittently, making sure his son knows that he’s paying attention. She sees the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth when Henry reaches some part in the story that has him giggling, and she aches to run her finger along his cheek, dip into his dimple, his laugh lines.

She doesn’t realize how lost in her thoughts she is until she registers Ted’s face has turned towards her, and he’s looking at her expectantly, Henry on the phone turned towards her as well, wearing an expression matching his father’s.

“Boss?” Ted says at the same time “Becca?” comes through the screen and Rebecca startles.

“Oh! Sorry? Sorry, just went on a bit of a walkabout then. What did I miss?” she asks, and Ted chuckles.

“Henry wants to know if you’ll grace us with your presence when we head to Abbey Road this summer,” Ted says, and Henry beams.

“Will you? We need more than just me and dad to do the picture, so please will you?” Henry says, and Rebecca can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, so I’m just a place filler,” she says, lightly teasing, but Henry’s brow furrows immediately.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I want you to come for reals, and for the picture. Because you’re fun and funny and because we need more people,” Henry clarifies, and Rebecca’s heart swells. She finds it unlikely that anyone would find her any combination of fun and funny, but the earnestness not only on Henry’s face, but on Ted’s as well almost makes her believe they could.

“It’s alright, Henry, I’m only teasing. You know, maybe Paul would come by if I asked,” she trails off, talking mostly to herself, and Ted raises his eyebrows and shoots her a look, then checks Henry to make sure the seven year old hadn’t caught that, because lord knows the commotion that would cause. 

“Alright, alright, well, we’ll let Rebecca know when we’re headed there and if she’s free, she can join us, okay bud?” Henry agrees enthusiastically, and it’s not long before he’s waving goodbye, and Ted’s wishing him good luck, and it’s back to just the two of them, chairs pushed together, legs almost touching, leaning into each other’s space at the table.

“You know, sometimes I forget how fancy you are and then you just casually namedrop who I assume is Paul McCartney like you’re old pals-”

“We are old pals-”

“And golly, Rebecca, sometimes I just don’t know what to do with ya,” he states, and somehow manages to make it sound enough like a compliment (it is) that Rebecca blushes.

“Well, I truly am happy to see if he’d like to stop by. Henry would like that, don’t you think?”

“He would,” Ted confirms. “But Rebecca, he don’t need all that. Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but Henry’s gonna be as happy as a clam if it’s just you and me goin’, okay?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Rebecca plucks a bit of imaginary lint off her immaculate sweater, and Ted waits until she raises her eyes. He’s looking at her with such warmth it feels like it’s seeping into the darkest parts of her soul, lighting her up from the inside.

“Rebecca,” he begins softly, and then pauses for a moment. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it. A beat later, he shrugs softly. “You heard the kid. You’re fun and funny. Who wouldn’t have a great time with you?”

“Oi!” Roy’s voice precedes him into the coach’s office the next Tuesday morning. “Keeley’s got a event thing for KBPR tomorrow at some trendy fucking club close by, and all of you dicks better show. 9pm,” he says, eyes landing on Trent, Nate, Beard, and then Ted. “”Cept gaffer, you’re excused. But the rest of you fucking lot better be there, on time,” he adds, before nodding once then sitting down at his desk, and shoving airpods in.

“Wait, why’s Ted excused?” Nate muses, and Ted shrugs. He’s not quite sure, but it is convenient, because tomorrow night is therapy, and while he probably could rally after his Session with the Psych (the silent P really helps, there), the thought of missing dinner with Rebecca puts an unpleasant pit into his stomach.

When they’re heading out to the pitch to begin training, he catches up to Roy. 

“Hey, not that I’m complainin’ - this guy’s on the wrong side of 40 to be goin’ to anything that starts past dinner, but how’d I win a get outta jail free card for tomorrow night?”

Roy turns to look at him briefly, eyes narrowed.

“It’s your fucking self care night, innit?” The look of surprise and slight confusion must show on Ted’s face because Roy sighs.

“Look, I don’t know fuck all about it other than Rebecca said she couldn’t go because you and her did some shit together on Wednesday nights that was” - Roy’s fingers go up in air quotes - “‘important for our mental wellbeing.’ And apparently it’s not sex.”

Ted chokes on his own saliva at that one, coughing for a full minute until he gathers his breath.

“No, yeah, no, it is not sex,” he confirms, ears pink. “But yeah, actually-” Ted begins, ready to explain just a bit about therapy and the dinners. He trusts Roy, and more importantly he knows that Rebecca also trusts Roy, which makes him trust Roy even more, but before he can continue Roy himself holds up a hand.

“I don’t fucking care. Long as whatever it is helps you both,” he says before grabbing the clipboard from Ted’s hands and walking to the sideline. Ted can’t help but grin.

“Roy Kent, ya big softy,” he calls to Roy’s retreating back, and is delighted to receive a spirited gesture in return.

Hey, if you wanna go to Keeley’s event thingy tomorrow, you can always cancel on me, Boss. I totally get it!

Rebecca reads the text through, glances out the window as if spotting him from up there would give her a better glimpse into what he’s thinking. She assumes he’s heard about Keeley’s happy hour from Roy, but she was clear with Roy that Wednesdays were off limits for them both. She’d called Keeley, too, to apologize, but Keeley had dismissed her immediately.

“Babe, I already told Roy you were busy. Don’t worry about it! I think it’s really good that you and Ted are helping each other, like unpack your traumas and heal your hearts and whatever else it is you two do,” Keeley had said easily, as Rebecca blanched slightly. 

As usual, Keeley had seemingly blithely cut to the heart of the matter, and Rebecca was left thinking about it for hours after Keeley’s cheery goodbye.

Because that’s kind of what was happening, wasn’t it? Sure, Ted was the one who reached out to her, who asked her for help. And she certainly was doing her best to provide it - and she hoped, thought, she was being at least marginally successful. But wasn’t it equally true that she left his flat every Wednesday feeling more tethered, lighter, more…to borrow Ted’s word, full , that she had when she entered? 

So it’s easy to respond honestly to him.

                                That’s quite all right, Ted. I’d much rather a quiet evening in with you than have to make small talk with Keeley’s clients and run from Barbara all night long.

Yeah, she’s kind of intense, huh?

                                She followed me into the loo stall last time we were out together.

Yikes. Okay, well if you’re sure, I’ll see ya tomorrow night!

(and probably a lot of times before then, too!)

                                Seems, likely, Ted. 💜

When he answers the door the next night, his energy is off. Sure, he greets her and grabs the box of food from her, but his eyes are a little wild and he’s talking a bit too fast for her liking. She’s not sure if anyone else would even notice, but she’s so well attuned to him at this point these little signs may as well be in flashing neon. She lets him lead her upstairs, into his flat, and pour her a glass of wine, all the while chattering on about the upcoming match, before she stops him.

“Ted. Ted,” she says, and he quiets immediately, running a hand over his face. “Are you alright?” She wants to reach for his hand but can’t work up the courage, so she settles for grabbing a glass from his cupboard and filling it with water, handing it to him as he moves to deflect.

“Course, yeah, I’m great. Sorry, guess my afternoon coffee must be hittin’ a little later than normal,” he says, flashing her an insincere grin, and Rebecca stiffens. She takes him in for a moment, really looks him over.

She can’t help but feel like she sees guilt in his eyes. She knows she sees tension in his posture, and she can practically feel the anxiety coming off him in waves. 

“Okay,” she says calmly. “Let’s try this again. Ted, you’re not alright. Don’t argue, I know you. You’re not alright, and if you don’t want to tell me why, I can’t make you, but don’t lie to me. Okay?” 

He slumps almost immediately, and the guilt she thought she saw earlier flares in his eyes. 

“Yeah, okay. That obvious, huh?” He chuckles a bit self-deprecatingly, and she shakes her head.

“Just to me, I think.” Her voice is soft, and he huffs in agreement, words from Sharon earlier landing in his brain, striking something there.

“I wanna -,” he brings his hands out of his pockets, flexes them a few times. She tracks the movements closely - his breathing is still fairly steady, considering, and his fingers are wiggling, but she can see that he’s wrestling with something, something big, and the unknown of what it could be terrifies her. 

“Ted?” she prompts, her voice almost a whisper.

“Actually,” he says, voice low. “Can I - can I hug you? I just need - “ but before he can finish the sentence, she’s striding over to him, wrapping her arms around him so tightly he lets out a small oomph before he’s able to move.

He loves the way she hugs, always clinging tightly to him, crooking her chin over his shoulder. One of her hands is curled around his neck, the other on his lower back, and he feels anchored, secure. His own hands rest at her mid-back, and he can’t help but dig his fingers into the lush material of her sweater. As he breathes deeply, inhaling her scent, he can feel the tension that’s wound its way around his muscles since his meeting with Sharon earlier start to melt away, and he knows suddenly what he’s meant to do.

[“Have you considered,” Sharon had broached halfway through the session, “Telling Rebecca about your father’s death?” Ted had flinched, and shaken his head forcefully at Sharon’s image on the screen before him.

“No, I don’t wanna - she doesn’t wanna know about all that,” he dismisses immediately, and Sharon just looks at him for a long moment.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because no one wants to hear about all that. It’s not a pleasant story, Doc, you know.” He can’t quite keep the annoyance out of his voice, but Sharon presses on, undeterred.

“No, it’s not a pleasant story. But it is part of your story, Ted. And, please do correct me if I’m wrong, but it feels as though Rebecca has never been one to accept the sugarcoated version of your story, has she?”

He thinks of that night outside the karaoke club in Liverpool. The afternoon a couple days after Nate left that she, without saying a word about Nate or the torn Believe sign her eyes lingered on, suggested an adventure and took him to an axe-throwing place. When she reminded him that Michelle moving on had nothing to do with his relationship with Henry. He thinks about all the ways she’d seen past his chipper facade, all the messiness she’d taken no qualms with, all the support and strength she’d provided him without question, without being asked. 

“She has not,” he sighs, and Sharon nods.

“You’ve done a wonderful job of opening up to me, Ted, and I’m proud of you and the work we’re doing together. But you pay me,” she reminds him, and Ted smiles wryly at that. “I want you to consider that sharing the story of your father’s death isn’t something one needs to be paid for. I want you to consider sharing that story with Rebecca, because I want you to understand that, for someone who cares about you as Rebecca does, carrying that information with you is not a burden, but a blessing.”

“How the hell can it be a blessing?” He spits out, and then raises a hand in apology. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s alright, Ted,” Sharon remains as unfazed as ever. But she eyes him for a moment before continuing.

“When Rebecca shares a piece of her own personal history, which must have it’s own fair of trauma, knowing that twat Mannion, do you feel burdened by that information?”

“No, ‘course not,” Ted had reacted immediately, and Sharon nodded.

“How does it make you feel?”

He’d sighed again, knowing where she was headed, but had taken a deep breath, and indulged her.

“It makes me feel like… like she trusts me. And I know she don’t trust easy, so it feels important? Heavy? Weighty. Like she’s given me a lil piece of the Rebecca puzzle.”

“And do you like that?”

He had tilted his head at that one, rolled his eyes. 

“You know the answer to that one, Doc. That’s cheatin.”

“Then why is it incomprehensible that, as eagerly as you collect her puzzle pieces, she wouldn’t want to collect yours?” Her question hits him in the chest, pierces right through to the most insecure, ravaged parts of his heart.

“I don’t know,” he whispers past the lump in his throat, and Sharon points to the left of her screen,  gesturing virtually to the box of tissues he’d made a big show of grabbing and placing next to him at the start of their session, the inside joke never failing to make them both smile. 

“I know you trust Rebecca,” she says, and Ted nods in agreement. “So I’d like you to take your own advice, Ted, and believe . Believe that sharing pieces of yourself with her might mean as much to her as it does to you. Believe that carrying that load with someone doesn’t make it go away, but might make it lighter. Can you try to do that?”

He’d nodded again, slower this time.

“I can try.” His voice was thick with unshed tears, and Sharon had coached him through a breathing exercise before ending the video call with a gentle, reassuring smile.]

In the present, Sharon’s words are still swirling in Ted’s mind, and as the warmth of Rebecca’s body presses against his, as her fingers brush absent-mindedly through the hairs at the nape of his neck, as the little puffs of her breath hit his ear in a steady rhythm, he takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Can I tell you about my dad?”

Chapter Text

Rebecca can’t sleep. She’s been tossing and turning in her bed for hours, replaying her evening with Ted over and over,  and her mind won’t, can’t, shut off. She had gotten home from his flat a bit later than usual, and had stumbled through her nightly routine while her mind raced a mile a minute, and now it was edging on towards two in the morning and she still couldn’t stop thinking about Ted, about his dad, about her dad. About this… seemingly fated connection the two of them shared; this ordinary turned cataclysmic day that shaped them both into the people they’ve become, for better or worse.

After Ted had asked her if he could tell her about his father, and she’d told him of course, he’d led them both over to the couch. She could see his hands trembling as he rested them on his knees, and without even a second thought, reached for them with her own.

He couldn’t make himself look at her while he told the story of his father’s death, so his eyes stayed trained on the coffee table while he slowly, achingly, relayed the worst day of his entire life to her. She seemed to sense that he needed to get it out all in one go, so she remained as still and quiet as was possible - flinching here and there, biting her lip to keep from gasping at some of the more horrid details, heart splintering into pieces as she thought of Ted, her unfailingly sweet, kind Ted, hearing his father kill himself. Having to be the one to tell his mother. Having to grow up, become a man in the span of one single second he’d never seen coming. She wanted to find that 16 year old Ted, somewhere in the space-time continuum, and grab him, protect him, hold him, take him far, far away from the scene present-day Ted was setting for her. 

When he finished, he was squeezing her hands tightly, all the lines of his body held taut as if all the pressure mounting in him the past thirty years was trying to flee his corporeal form. He released slightly as he realized he was probably hurting her with the strength of his grip, but she squeezed back, a reassurance, and he finally raised his head to meet her eyes.

Silent tears were running down her face, spiderwebs of mascara under her eyes. He knew he had matching tear tracks on his own face, confirmed when she gently released one of her hands from his and swiped a thumb along the apple of his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry-”

“Don’t,” she had said, her voice cracking. “Don’t you apologize for this, Ted. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry Ted, that this terrible thing happened to you,” she whispered, catching more of his tears with her thumb. They sat silently for a moment, Ted working through one of his preferred breathing exercises, Rebecca grounding him with one hand on his chest and the other still in his. 

“I won’t apologize again,” Ted said eventually, breaking the silence. “But I will say thank you. Thank you for letting me tell you,” he smiled ruefully. “Thank you for being a person I can tell.”

“It feels a little wrong to say it’s my pleasure, when we’re talking about dead dads,” Rebecca tried for a bit of levity, and in fact Ted huffed a laugh. “But I will say, it’s my honor, Ted, for you to trust me with it.” Ted rolled his eyes at that with a bemused smile, and Rebecca had quirked an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothin’, it’s just, somewhere Sharon’s sittin’ up and yelling “I told ya so, you big dummy” into the universe,” he said with a self deprecating but sincere little smirk.

“God, she scares the shit out of me,” Rebecca murmured, and that caused Ted to actually laugh.

“What? Why? You afraid she’s gonna read your mind or something? That’s fair, I kinda think she can,” Ted added, and Rebecca had snorted.

“God, don’t get me started on mind readers and bloody psychics,” she says with a shake of her head. “No, I don’t know. I don’t like people knowing I’m fucked up, I suppose. And something about her makes me feel like I’m five second from spilling all my fucked up guts,” she explained, not particularly delicately, and Ted had nodded sagely.

“Right, right,” he’d said. “But at least she’s not a manicurist, hey?” He said with a teasing lilt in his voice. 

“Oh, shut up,” Rebecca said, blushing. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Ted conceded. “But hey, the Doc’s good people. She just has some fences you gotta hop over. Lucky for her, by the time she came around I had had some good practice with a certain boss of mine,” he’d pointed at her, and Rebecca had rolled her eyes good naturedly. 

“Hey, speaking of dead dads as we were- you doin’ okay? It’s been a whole year since you Rickrolled a funeral.” Rebecca startled for a moment; she hadn’t realized the anniversary of her dad’s death had already passed.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Fucking Rick Astley. Yes. I mean, I’m doing alright with it. God, I didn’t even realize it’s been a year. Shit, I should’ve called my mum or something, right?” Ted shrugged.

“Sounds like you and your dad had kinda a complicated relationship, I’m sure your mom understands,” he said, and Rebecca smiled ruefully.

“I think the hard part about my dad dying, in retrospect,” she began, emboldened by the air of vulnerability cast onto the night by Ted’s own brave confessional, “is that, in some ways, I already thought of him as dead. You see, he cheated on my mum. And I caught him. Literally caught him in the act. And the only thing he ever said to me about it was, please don’t tell your mother. And I didn’t. I hated him for it, but I didn’t say anything.”

“Rebecca,” Ted said, voice full of sympathy, his thumb dancing across her knuckles in a soothing pattern. “I’m so sorry.”

“But then he died, truly died, and that’s when I realized that I had already been mourning him, or, I suppose, my relationship with him, for years. But there was always a tiny part of me that hoped perhaps he’d… I don’t know, atone. Apologize. That maybe we could get time back. And then that was gone, too.”

“Wow,” Ted let out. “That’s… you sure you don’t talk to Sharon?”

“Despite how much of a fucking wanker she generally is, Florence is actually competent at her job,” Rebecca admitted. “And, due to being a general fucking wanker, she often psychoanalyzes her friends to their faces. It’s always completely unasked for, but not always entirely unhelpful.”

“Ah,” Ted nodded in understanding. “That sounds about right on the money.” 

“I can’t believe I forgot the day he died,” she mused. “I’ve never forgotten the day I caught him. Not one single year of the past thirty-one have I forgotten. September 13, 1991. Worst bloody day of the year.”

Ted feels the air whoosh out of his body, and he swallows hard as he visibly stiffens. He pulls himself backward abruptly, severing all points of contact with Rebecca. 

“Ted?” Rebecca looked at him, concern etched in her face. “What’s wrong? What is it?” Her eyes dart from his face to his hands, where his fingers are wiggling, itching to ball into tight fists like they’re wont to do with any mention of that date.

“September 13, 1991. That’s- “ he paused, swallowing a lump. “That’s the day you caught your dad?”

“Yes,” Rebecca said slowly. “Why? Why does it matter?” 

“That’s the day my dad killed himself,” Ted stated, and Rebecca had gasped, hand moving up to her mouth automatically. “I’ve never forgotten that day, either.”

“Jesus fuck,” Rebecca muttered, voice strangled. “That’s an insane coincidence.”

“Yeah,” Ted agreed softly, moving back toward her, taking a deep breath as the information washed over him, the initial shock shifting into something different, something calmer. 

“Like, really bloody insane, Ted. That the same day changed both of us forever. And then, all these years later…”

“You see me dancin’ like a dummy on the internet and hire me to thwart your truly evil ex husband?” Whereas she seems stunned by this revelation, this unknown tie binding them together, he’s become more awed by it. For some reason, while it’s completely blindsiding, it’s not exactly surprising . He’s always felt like a part of him recognized Rebecca from the first second he laid eyes on her. 

He didn’t quite understand it at the time, not when he was so overwhelmed, being in a new country, a new sport, a new and unknown marital status. But then, his instinct to make her shortbread, to check in with her, her ability to see his artfully hidden struggles, their shared ability to communicate with just a look, it all felt like he knew her, and she knew him, in a way that called forth a deeper, richer shared history than what was. Like they’d been walking together for ages, and at some point he had taken a sharp turn off the path, and then suddenly he’d rounded a corner, bumped into her, and she’d said, “Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for you,” with her soft smile, and he’d smiled back because he’d been found, someone had been looking for him all along, he was never truly lost. 

“I can’t bloody believe it,” she muttered again. “Of all the days and all the people, Ted.”

“It’s definitely crazy,” Ted noted.“But it’s kinda nice, now that I think about it. That day is always awfully miserable for me. Now we can at least be miserable together.”

“Sounds positively depressing, count me in,” Rebecca joked absentmindedly, brain still whirling, and Ted couldn’t help but laugh, a true laugh, his first of the evening, and though many other emotions were swirling inside of her, most of them purposefully unnamed, the pride she felt at that, his genuine laughter, warmed her from the inside, and buoyed her all the way home.

But it’s been hours now, and shesimply can’t sleep. She’s never been a big believer in destiny, or fate, or the “universe” that Keeley goes on and on about, but this, this connection she and Ted share, it feels… significant. It feels like Something, with a capital s. Because on the one hand, it it well and truly insane that not only was the same day the catalyst for their grown up lives, but, she’s realized, after some mental mathematics, that there’s a non zero chance that the moment she touched the doorknob of her parent’s bedroom and pushed through is also the same moment a gunshot rattled Ted’s ears. 

But on the other hand, and this is the piece that has her spiraling; as monumental as this feels, it also feels, in a way, anticlimactic. Because of course it’s Ted. Of course it’s Ted that she shares this with. It’s always Ted, isn’t it? Always Ted finding her at her most vulnerable, her most wounded. Always Ted standing next to her, sometimes literally, sometimes metaphorically, when it feels like no one could, or would. It was always going to be Ted. 

And she can’t quite parse out all the feelings that knowledge brings with it, can’t quite commit to digging that deeply into the aches and longings and brightnesses she feels when she thinks of him. That’s a very dangerous game to play, she tells herself, before finally succumbing to sleep as the clock nears four.

When her alarm blares a mere two hours later, Rebecca blinks blearily as she slaps her hand down on the duvet to find her phone, abandoned somewhere in her bed when the fourth guided meditation she’d tried had not lulled her to sleep as promised. 

When she finds her phone, she sees a text from Keeley, sent eight minutes ago. Rebecca doesn’t even read the message, just pokes at the little phone icon and throws her head back onto her pillows.

“Hiya!” Keeley answers, sounding remarkably alert for the early morning hour, and Rebecca just groans.

“How the fuck are you so bloody chipper right now?” 

“Roy’s going down on me,” Keeley deadpans, and Rebecca groans again.

“I am not,” she hears from the background,” Roy sounding as awake as she feels, which is to say, not at all.

“Anyway, what can I do for you, babe? You’re okay, yeah? Wait, you’re not canceling on me for Saturday are you? I really wanna try that place but it’s fucking prix fixe place so you’ve gotta buy,” Keeley whines, and Rebecca pinches her nose.

“What? No, no, I’m not canceling on… whatever extortion scheme you’re running on me.”

“Oh thank God,” Keeley says with exaggerated relief. 

“Can we push our meeting this morning to 10? I didn’t sleep well and I need to collect myself a bit this morning.”

“Course, babe,” Keeley answers easily. “I was gonna come in with Roy but I’ll just hang until you make it in!” Rebecca smiles, knowing she’ll find Keeley sat at her desk, a variety of pink and sparkly objects surrounding her when she enters her office later, and probably several half drunk cups of the expensive teas and coffees Rebecca keeps around, because Keeley can never decide which one she wants to try.

“Wait, last night was a Ted night, yeah?” Keeley asks, and Rebecca hums in affirmation.

“Did something happen last night?” Keeley asks, and by the way her voice has raised Rebecca can imagine her, bolting upright in bed. “Rebecca, did something happen with you and Ted last night? Is that why you didn’t sleep well!?”

Rebecca herself sits up a little straighter. “I mean, I suppose so, yes… wait, why would you guess that?”

“Only because we’ve all been fucking waiting for this to happen, Rebecca!” Keeley squeals, and the throb at the base of Rebecca’s skull grows.

“You’ve been - wait, what the hell are you on about?”

“What are you on about? Give me the details! I know Ted wouldn’t put out on the first date, but it’s not exactly the first date, is it you little minx? But still, he’d want to go slow, I think. So what, just a snog? Heavy petting? Did you get to see his penis?”

“Keeley!” Rebecca interrupts, feeling slightly hysterical. “What the absolute fuck are you talking about? It’s quiet for a moment, except Rebecca is certain she hears a gruff, “fuck’s sake” from Keeley’s end, courtesy of Roy no doubt.

“You and Ted,” Keeley says slowly. 

“What about me and Ted? You think we - you think we kissed ?”

“I mean, frankly I was hoping for a lot more than that, but yeah, babe,” Keeley responds, and Rebecca is now certain she’s hallucinating from lack of sleep.

“Keeley, why on earth would you, what would make you, where would you even get the idea-” Rebecca sputters out. It is far too early in the morning for this, and now her head is just about pounding.

“Oh,” Keeley says somewhat carefully. “Sorry, I guess I just… I don’t know, don’t mind me! Was having one of my Sex and the City binges last night, must’ve gotten all into my brain. You know how it goes!”

Rebecca does not, but she’s willing to let it go for the sake of moving past this conversation that has her feeling completely out of sorts in the way she absolutely hates.

“Do you want me to bring you something delicious from the shop round the corner for our meeting?” Keeley asks sweetly, deftly and mercifully changing the subject.

“That would be lovely,” Rebecca sighs in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll see you at ten.”

When Keeley hangs up, she turns to Roy with a bewildered expression on her face.

“How the fuck,” she emphasizes, “Is she still in this much denial? Like, it’s gotta be some sort of mental problem at this point, I swear!” 

Roy just shrugs from beside her. “Dunno.”

“Do you think Ted knows? Or is he also pretending he has no idea that they’re totally, one hundred percent, absolutely in love with each other?”

“Dunno.”

“Roy!” Keeley smacks his chest, and Roy grunts. “First of all, don’t pretend you don’t care about those two. Second of all, don’t pretend you don’t love gossip. Third of all, even if you don’t care and don’t love gossip, you love me so you have to talk to me about this,” she explains, and Roy begrudgingly lifts himself up onto an elbow.

“Fine,” he says. “For the third reason, exclusively,” he says, leaning over to give her a quick peck.

“Look, people are fucking idiots. Especially when they’re in love. Especially when they’re in love and don’t think they deserve shit.” He gestures to himself, and Keeley softens, knowing he’s speaking from experience.

“Yeah, but look at you, we’re all sorted now, yeah?” she says quietly, reaching up to stroke his cheek, and Roy lets a true smile grace his face, the one he reserves for Keeley and Phoebe only, no exceptions. 

“Yeah. And they’ll get their shit together too, eventually. Fucking morons,” he says with affection, and Keeley grins, pulling him in for a kiss.

After Rebecca leaves his flat, Ted sleeps like he hasn’t slept in ages. Deeply, unmoving, with ease. It could just be pure exhaustion from the emotional night, from the ebbs and flows of adrenaline. But, more likely, it’s because he feels like a giant anchor has untethered from his body, like exposing his dark underbelly to Rebecca had allowed said darkness to float free, leaving him lighter. Of course, that’s exactly what Doctor Sharon told him would happen, and he notes again that she’s really pretty gosh darn good at her job. He should tell her that, more.

So once Rebecca leaves, he slides, wrung out but overall content, into his bed. Her face, slightly puffy from crying, and still slightly shellshocked from the evening’s events, but still beautiful as ever, is the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes and drifts into slumber. 

“Do you believe in fate? Cosmic connections, all that stuff?” Is the first thing Ted says to Beard as the other man hands him his coffee, stepping out onto the cobblestone street. Beard quirks an eyebrow at him, but answers.

“I'm gonna stick with my man Aristotle on this one,” he says, and Ted waits for an explanation before realizing that Beard thinks that was one.

“Care to explain that to those of us who haven’t done our homework?”

“Choice, not chance, determines your destiny.” He quotes. When Ted continues to stare at him, Beard sighs the put upon sigh of every philosophy scholar the world over. “Essentially, while there is an overarching idea of fate, or destiny, we as humans have free will and autonomy that can intercept and interrupt, even completely change, what that fate was meant to be.”

“Huh,” Ted responds. “So, measured fate?”

“Sure,” Beard says easily. “As for cosmic connections, I think that we’re all connected in many ways, but it’s up to us to follow the pick which connections to be pulled by.”

“Morning Phil, Nancy,” Ted waves to a few of the shopkeepers they pass, and thinks over Beard’s words.

“You know, I gotta say, I know it seems right up my alley, the whole ‘Believe’ thing and so on, but I’ve never really given it all a ton of thought,” he admits and Beard shrugs. 

“What’s got you thinking about it now?”

“Well,” Ted hesitates. It’s Rebecca’s story, too, and Ted doesn’t want to share anything that would make her uncomfortable. But it’s Beard, and Ted knows that not only will Beard never tell a soul, he feels pretty confident that Rebecca would understand. He omits the specifics of Rebecca’s history but provides enough context so that Beard can follow as they walk their usual route through the heart of Richmond.

When he finishes relaying the night before to his best friend, dropping his voice when they pass neighbors and familiar faces, pausing to give quick waves or greetings to some, continuing their journey to work, Beard’s quiet for what seems like a long moment, and Ted reaches out to whack his chest.

“So? Whatta ya think?” He asks, and Beard shrugs again.

“I think if it feels like more than a coincidence to you, if it feels like fate, or destiny, or some sort of otherworldly connection to you, then you should think about why. And how your decisions, and Rebecca’s, could’ve been equally as responsible insofar as leading you to this point. And, further, what you want to do with the information. Whether or not you want to let fate run its course as intended, or if you want to co-opt said course with your human autonomy. Think about it.”

Ted pauses, considering, face screwing up as he tries to make sense of Beard’s words.

“What the heck does that mean, man?” he asks, and Beard just taps the side of his head.

“Think about it,” he repeats, and Ted lets out an exasperated sigh. Classic Beard, after all. 

They’ve reached Nelson Road, and as they reach the portion of their commute where Beard continues straight but Ted turns to head up to Rebecca’s office for Biscuits with the Box, Beard stops him.

“You know, I do believe in soulmates,” he says easily. “Didn’t used to, but then we came here, and now I’d be crazy not to.”

“Ah,” saus Ted, nodding. “Because of Jane.”

“No,” Beard lets out an incredulous exhale. “Not because of Jane.” Ted feels like he’s missing something. Beard’s looking at him like he’s a little dumb (and he is, sometimes, he’s big enough to admit that, but usually Beard has the manners to tell him directly to his face rather than just imply it), but softens when he sees Ted’s confusion.

“No,” he says again, with a little laugh, as if they idea of he and Jane being soulmates is preposterous (Ted's actually glad about that.) But then Beard turns serious again, and his eyes are focused when he looks directly at Ted. “Because of you and Rebecca.” And before Ted can even process that, can even think about responding, Beard’s saluting and continuing on, whistling a merry tune as he goes. 

Chapter Text

For the past 48 hours, Ted has thought of next to nothing else other than Beard’s clear, concise statement that he and Rebecca were soulmates. Beard has been infuriatingly mum on the matter since detonating the bomb, just fixing Ted with a knowing look and a “think about it” whenever Ted tries to re-broach the subject. He loves the man, he does, but Ted is about ready to throw Beard into the Thames.

Because, good lord , he has been thinking about it. It's all he has been thinking about, all he could think about, all he could focus on. The only reprieve came during his nightly chats with Henry, when he made sure to put his sole attention on the boy, and truthfully it wasn’t hard because he loved his son very much, and he would’ve felt  like real dog poo had he not been able to focus on him the way he deserved. And even when Henry would ask about Rebecca, Ted could answer and move on to more pressing matters, like Lego Masters and Royals baseball. 

But then Henry would wave, the Zoom window would close, and Ted would be right back to where he was before, thinking about Rebecca. The thing was though, this wasn’t exactly new. In fact, now that Ted was acutely aware of thinking about Rebecca, he was also acutely aware of how much he always had been thinking about Rebecca. His little guessing game with himself every morning about which color she’d be wearing that day. The way he’d see a dessert on Bake-Off and wonder if it was one she’d like. The way he instinctively looked up at her office before heading home, and would detour upstairs if the light was still on. Texting her murder documentary recommendations passed along from Michelle. Picking the mushrooms out of his dish at Roy’s shawarma place and depositing them on her plate without so much as a word. Hearing her greet Henry if she happened to be around while they were on together, and sending along her hellos if she wasn’t. She was utterly peppered throughout his day, from dawn til dusk, and he wasn’t quite sure when it all had happened, couldn’t pinpoint a single moment in time, it just was, and now that he was noticing, it was lovely.

So the thinking-about-Rebecca thing isn’t quite new. What’s new is the undercurrent thrumming through every interaction, every thought, every conversation, a pulsing soulmate soulmate soulmate hymn that has him going crazy. Because that would be crazy, right? For this fierce, witty, kind-hearted, gorgeous woman to be cosmically fated to walk through life with him, congenial midwestern dad Ted Lasso? Almost a cruel joke by the universe, to dangle this idea in front of him when it couldn’t possibly be. 

But then again, it’s not like Ted came up with the idea on his own. Beard had brought it up. And Beard, though rash in many ways (women, generally, and also recreational substances) was a thoughtful, philosophical kind of guy. And he was a man of few words, he chose them carefully and after review. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t believe it. 

So why did he believe it? What was Beard seeing so clearly that he could be so cavalier, so nonchalant about it? This is what Ted's pondering now, mid afternoon after training on Friday, chin resting on his palm, elbow on his desk as Beard and Nate (mostly Nate) chatter quietly about this weekend’s match. 

“Oi! Ted!” Keeley bursts into the office, a tiny firecracker of hot pink. Roy mentioned Keeley was coming by later to say hi, but come to think of it, Roy disappeared sometime between the end of training and now, and Ted wasn’t sure where he’d gone.  “Get your stuff, you’re coming with me,” Keeley’s slightly out of breath, and Ted frowns at her questioningly.

“You okay? What’s goin’ on? Is Roy okay? I actually haven’t seen him…” he trails off, and Keeley sighs, bending down to grab Ted’s backpack and handing it to him.

“Roy’s fine,” Keeley says, motioning for him to hurry up. “Rebecca’s not. I mean she totally is, she’s alive and like probably definitely still fucking fit with blood dripping down her arm, but she’s at the A & E. Roy took her,” she explains, and Ted snaps to attention as a bolt of anxiety ranrods into him.

“Blood? What the heck is goin’ on, Keeley?” he says, voice raising and panicked. “Why is Rebecca bleedin’? The A & E? That’s y’alls ER! What’s happening?” He feels the panic start to swell, his hands start to clench and his chest begins to tighten, and Keeley must see it on his face because her own softens as she takes him in. 

“Hey, Ted, she’s alright, yeah?  Promise. I talked to her and everything. Here, let’s grab your keys and phone,” she says soothingly, picking up the aforementioned objects. “I guess she slipped or tripped or something and the tea cup she was holding broke, and she got a pretty nasty cut on her arm,” she explains. “Roy was up in her office because they’re planning my surprise birthday party - please don’t tell them I know, they’d be devastated - and he said it was “not big but deep as fuck” and she’ll probably need stitches.” As Keeley speaks, Ted relaxes slightly. He still doesn’t like this information, not in the slightest, but Keeley is fairly calm as far as Keeley goes, which he knows is a good sign. If Keeley's not in hysterics, as much as she loves Rebecca, it must not be too terrible.

He takes a few deep steadying breaths. She’s okay. She’s bleeding, bloody, probably in pain, but she’s with Roy, who Ted trusts, and she’s at the A&E, which is where she should be, and she’ll be okay. He repeats this to himself a few times as Keeley flutters about.

“She didn’t want to go, obviously, that beautiful stubborn lion, but Roy threatened to throw her over his shoulder, and then I think she threatened to Tonya Harding him, which he called a fucking cheap shot, but somehow he got her to go get it checked out. They’re at West Middlesex, so hurry up!” 

Ted’s unfortunately still frozen though, trying to process the information, will his panic to abate, and follow Keeley’s instructions, but is finding himself unable to multitask. All he can think about, of course, is Rebecca. Rebecca okay, overall. Rebecca bleeding. Rebecca hurting. Rebecca protesting going to the hospital of course, the bravest and most willful person he knows.

Keeley must realize that he’s incapable of movement because she sighs again and taps something out quickly on her phone. She’s still gathering Ted’s things, helping him into his jacket like he’s a preschooler, Ted absently wonders if she knows about the flip trick he’d taught Henry years ago, and when her phone chimes she shoves it in Ted’s face.

“See, yeah? Alive and grumpy, the lot of them,” Keeley must’ve asked Roy for photographic evidence because he’s sent a selfie of the two of them from the A&E waiting room, it looks like. Roy and Rebecca are both glaring into the camera’s lens, and Rebecca’s hand is holding a large pad of some sort on her right arm, but Keeley’s right, she’s alive and objectively fine, if not slightly worse for the wear. The sight of her does truly help dispel Ted’s panic, and some of his executive functioning kicks back in as he releases a deep breath.

“Okay, okay. Yeah, y’all, I’m out of here with Keels. Have fun at training,” he calls to Beard and Nate as he follows the clomp of Keeley’s cheetah print platforms out of the coach’s office. 

“You got it, Coach,” Beard replies. “Give Rebecca our best.”

“What was that for?” Rebecca grumbles as Roy stashes his phone back in his coat pocket. 

“Keeley said Ted needed proof of life,”  Roy explains. “Gaffer’s probably halfway to a fucking heart attack, luckily they’re headed this way so he can get his shit sorted.”

“Oh God,” Rebecca breathes out. “Ted. Is he okay? He hates blood, Roy, he doesn’t even like to hear about - wait, how does Ted know about this?” she squints at him accusingly.

“I had to tell Keeley, didn’t I? She’d have my fucking head if she found out later. And I’m sure she figured someone should clue Ted in before he found out some other way and lost his fucking mind, which he absolutely would, and then both of you morons would be stuck in here.”

“And now they’re both on their way here?” Rebecca asks tiredly, moving to massage her temples but grimacing when she remembers the reality of her situation. She thinks of Ted fretfully. When he told her about his father’s suicide, he’d mentioned that ever since, the sight of blood was enough to send him spiraling, said that over time he learned to deal with Henry’s scraped knees but always had to tap out for anything worse.

Well, this was a lot worse than a skinned knee, Rebecca thought drily as she winced again and looked down at her arm. It was stinging, painful, and definitely still bleeding, blood seeping slowly but somewhat steadily through the gauze. She knew she needed stitches, had known it even as she had tried to refuse Roy’s insistence on the hospital. She hated being fussed over, she hated being the center of attention. She was Rebecca Welton, she was fine .

But she wasn’t, she was bleeding, so she begrudgingly let Roy lead her to his car (“Oi, try not to fucking bleed all over the seat,”) and to West Middlesex University Hospital, where she was now sat in a very uncomfortable chair as all the people with more severe injuries and illnesses were taken into rooms before her, which she logically understood but in her pathetic state, felt astronomically unfair.

“Yeah right, like anything could keep those two idiots away,” Roy states, an undercurrent of affection thrown in with the insult, then turns his attention to the clipboard he’d been handed. 

“Alright, I’m gonna fill this shit out - don’t argue, you can’t fucking write with your left hand, Rebecca, and I’m not going to ask for another if you bleed all over this one,” he says, taking charge of the intake forms. Rebecca peers over at the paperwork as he scribbles, noting with interest that he’s remembered her birthdate and address.

“Your handwriting is atrocious,” she tells him, because it really truly is, Keeley hadn’t been exaggerating. It’s barely legible, she hopes the charge nurse can even read it. 

“Fuck you,” Roy says without glancing up. “Okay, which of the two idiots do you want for your emergency contact?” he asks, having made it halfway down the form. 

“What?” Rebecca's voice pitches high, and Roy must hear it because he looks up, brow furrowed.

“Your emergency contact? Keeley or Ted?” Rebecca continues to stare at him blankly, those words on the form at the fertility clinic, the blank space after them seared into her mind along with the ache of loneliness and small sting of shame. “I assume you don’t want your fucking mum? Higgins would be shit in an emergency, Sassy’s too far away. What, you want me to put me? Obviously I’d be better than any of those other knobheads, but pass. Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

He’s still looking at her, growing more confused by the second. Rebecca realizes he’s waiting for an answer, and she clears her throat and answers, going on instinct.

“Ted, put Ted,” she says, and Roy nods easily, like he’d been expecting that answer, scribbling in Ted’s name and information. 

“I won’t tell Keeley,” he promises, and Rebecca huffs out a little laugh, more at the implausibility yet current truth of there actually being more than one person who would even want to be her emergency contact. But Roy’s right, she thinks. All six of the people he named would show up for her, she’s starting to believe that. Roy had rattled them off easily, like of course they'd all be options for her, all six of them. But the one she wants? Ted. 

The drive to the hospital had been silent, it was Roy after all, but Rebecca found herself longing for the distraction of Ted’s gentle cadence as he told a story. Here in the waiting room, she knew he’d be cracking jokes to keep her spirits up as patient after patient was called and she remained seated.

I wish Ted were here , she thinks, and then she brightens when she remembers that he’s on his way, that Keeley is with him, and that sweet Keeley is emotionally astute enough to make sure Ted’s not in a right state on the way. Roy finishes filling out the forms and hands them back to the front desk, and Rebecca tries not to watch the clock as she waits for Keeley and Ted to arrive.

It’s hardly five minutes later when they push through the doors Rebecca has her eyes trained on, and just the sight of them, her people, she exhales in relief, almost welling up as a feeling of comfort and security washes over her. She immediately gives Ted a once-over, and he definitely looks worried, brow pinched tight and posture tense, but he gives her a relieved smile as soon as he catches sight of her, and then Keeley is pulling her into a gentle, one-sided hug.

“Hi babe, you alright?” Keeley asks, gingerly inspecting her.

“I’m fine,” Rebecca responds drily. “Everyone is being very dramatic. It’s just a little cut, I just need a few stitches and then I’m sure I’ll be good as new.”

“Due respect, Boss, but those arms are a national treasure, so I think the dramatics are warranted,” Ted jokes, feeling about a thousand times better for having Rebecca in his sights. Keeley nods fervently, and Rebecca can’t help but let out a grateful snort of a laugh.

“Rebecca Welton?” A bored looking nurse calls her name from the exam room door, and Rebecca moves to stand. Ted immediately reaches one hand for her waist and one to gently cradle the elbow of her bad arm, steadying her as she winces from the movement.

“Is the whole lot coming in with you, dearie?” The nurse asks, taking in the crew assembled in front of her. 

“Oh,” Rebecca stutters, looking around at her friends. “No, no I suppose not. Really, you three, I appreciate it, but I’m completely fine. I’ll text Walter to pick me up and then I’ll text you to let you know when I’m home,” she tries, and is met with three unimpressed looks. Roy and Keeley then turn and level their eyes on Ted, who takes the hint.

“Well no, that’s just not gonna do it for me, personally, Boss. How bout this? Keeley, Roy, y’all head home and I’ll stick around here, charm the docs, score ya the good pain meds - I’m just kiddin’, Amy,” he adds hastily, reading the nurse’s name tag. 

“Ted, you really don’t have to,” Rebecca protests half heartedly, because even though she truthfully would really love for Ted to stay, and even though she knows that refusing all offers and help and support is actually not the emotionally healthy or sane thing to do, years of conditioning that any weakness is failure have still left their mark. 

“Rebecca, you know I’d just be sittin’ around worryin’ about ya if I wasn’t here,” he says softly, and she can see the easy sincerity in his face. 

“Okay,” she nods, giving him a small tremulous smile. “But yes, you two get out of here. I don’t need three guardians for a few stitches. Ted will more than suffice,” she says to Roy and Keeley, not missing the pleased, slightly proud grin on Ted’s face at her words. 

“I have no doubt,” Keeley says, eyes twinkling a bit too brightly. “Alright. Ted, take care of our girl, yeah? And you, missy, I’m coming over tomorrow and we’re going to watch girly movies all day long and order the fancy cookies from that French bakery,” Keeley says, pointing at Rebecca. “You’re not gonna lift that beautifully sculpted and sadly wounded arm for one second.” Rebecca rolls her eyes affectionately.

“I love you. And Roy - thank you,” she adds, and Roy just gives her a salute, Keeley blowing her a kiss, turning to leave.

“Right this way,” the nurse says, and Rebecca realizes that Ted is still touching her, still cradling her elbow with one hand as his other moves to the small of her back to propel her forward, following nurse Amy. 

Rebecca’s right, the gash is small, but Roy was right, it is deep, and she’s set to get seven stitches. Ted’s been by her side the whole time the doctor has been examining the wound, but has kept his eyes away from her arm, taking stock of the A&E room equipment, asking nurse Amy - who, actually, has been charmed by Ted at this point - about the uses of each funny looking thing. 

When the doctor starts preparing for the sutures, Rebecca sees Ted swallow.

“You alright?” Rebecca asks him, reaching out a foot to tap his shin.

“Yeah, sorry, just the blood, you know,” Ted admits. He knows Rebecca knows that he’s not trying to be a wimp about it, but it’s still slightly embarrassing, that he can’t even make it through a simple stitch up for a person he cares about without feeling the claw of anxiety reaching for him.

“I know. Ted, if you want to step out for this part, I understand,” Rebecca tries to give him an out, but he shakes his head. She’s being honest, he knows, she wouldn’t hold it against him, but he wants to do this for her. He can do this for her. He takes another deep breath, pushes the anxiety down, and finds her eyes.

“No, no, I’m not leavin’ ya in here alone, Becca. Here, actually, hey Doc? Can I scoot my boot up onto the bed with her?”

The doctor looks up from Rebecca’s arm. “Pardon?”

“Here, Ted, just,” Rebecca tugs on his arm until he’s sitting on the bed perpendicular to her, so he can see her face but her body is blocking the view of her right arm. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

“Thanks. Sorry I’m not better at this,” he says, giving her left hand a quick squeeze.

"You're perfect," she says quietly, before tensing as the doctor starts to sew - she’d been prepped with a local anesthetic but she can still feel a bit of a sting and pull - and Ted notices immediately.

“Hey, wanna hear about Henry’s idea for a Nelson Road Lego set?”

When they reach her home an hour later, Walter having come to collect the pair of them, Rebecca’s almost about to turn around to thank Ted for the escort and for the moral support, and to insist that she’s taken up enough of his time, but he simply grabs the keys from the pocket of her bag he’s carrying, shepherds her inside, bustling her to the cozy couch in her den, asking her questions about which restaurant she’d rather he order from, if she wants to keep going with Killing Eve (they’ve been watching an episode or two on Wednesdays, thanks Michelle) or if she’d rather watch something lighter, if she’d like tea? 

She’s stunned and exhausted enough to just answer, Thai sounds lovely, Killing Eve is fine but if she falls asleep they might have to re-watch, and no tea but perhaps a glass of wine? The last is said hopefully, but Ted shoots her down immediately.

“You heard what the Doc said, no mixin’ alcohol with those pain meds you’re on,” he says, and bites back a smile when she grumbles, as predicted.

“God, you’re such a goody goody,” she says with a groan. “These aren’t even the really good meds, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, call me what ya want but my goal is to keep ya as safe as possible, Rebecca, so best I can do is grape juice. Oooh, or hot chocolate. You got any marshmallows?”

“Do I look like a person who has marshmallows?”

“Well, you don’t look like a person who can kick my ass at Mario Kart, and yet here we are, so I dunno Miss Full of Surprises, you tell me. Now, you gonna let me order dinner and get you all cozy over there, or do you wanna crab at me some more?” He teases, and Rebecca has the good grace to flush slightly.

“Sorry,” she mutters, but Ted just waves her off with a grin, hands her his phone with the Thai menu pulled up, and heads into the kitchen, presumably on a marshmallow mission. He gently tucks a fuzzy blanket around her and places the remote in her left hand before he goes, and he has to fight back the urge to place a kiss on her forehead.

She can hear him bustling around in the kitchen, cozy and content in her little blanket cocoon, pad see ew and papaya salad on their way, Ted’s solid, comforting presence filling up the whole of the house. It’s then she realizes that maybe she does like being fussed over, if it’s Ted who’s doing the fussing. Because she doesn’t feel weak or pathetic or like a burden. She feels cared for, safe, loved . And it feels… really quite wonderful, if she’s being honest. 

And, she’s also proud of herself. She’s proud of Ted almost always, especially these days. She aches with it, this second hand pride, as she watches him encourage and lead every person he encounters to be their best self, as he takes ownership of his trauma and reaches out for help and asks for what he needs. But today, she’s also proud of herself, which is a feeling to which she is not accustomed. But it’s progress, she thinks (and look, if she’s been reading a lot of Brene Brown, don’t tell her mum) that she’s allowing Ted to see her vulnerability, to dote on her, to see her without her metaphorical armor.

Ted stays the rest of the evening, and does succeed in unearthing some ancient marshmallows that don’t do half bad in the delicious hot chocolate he makes. They share their Thai, FaceTime with Henry (Rebecca very pointedly asks Ted to grab her some socks when Henry starts to ask very specific questions about the “gushiness” of the blood and Ted smiles gratefully as he heads off before Rebecca turns back to Henry and gives a fairly gruesome and fully exaggerated tale of her injury to the delighted seven year old) and watch two episodes of Killing Eve before her head starts to droop onto Ted's shoulder.

When she goes to sleep that night, Ted in the guest room down the hall, because he insisted, in case she needed anything in the night, she feels, for the first time in a long time, full . The loneliness and longing that have been her constant companions for so long have been ebbing, fading these past few years, but tonight is the first night where she can’t feel them at all, where she feels completely out of their reach. Ted , she thinks as she drifts off. Because of Ted. My Ted .

Chapter Text

When Rebecca wakes up the next morning, it takes her a minute to come to full consciousness. When she does, she realizes that something is different. Her arm, of course, propped up on the pillow that Ted tucked under it last night, but it’s not that. It’s something… ethereal, almost, less tangible. It’s a sense, a feeling, a shift in the atmosphere. She blinks her eyes open blearily a few times, takes a few steadying breaths. Her arm does ache slightly, but as she sits up she sees a few of the extra strength paracetamols the doctor had sent her home with on her nightstand, along with a fresh glass of water. Ted , she thinks fondly, and the soft smile is still on her face when she hears a light tapping at her door.

“Ted?” she calls, and after a second the door pops open and his head pokes through. 

“Hey, Rebecca,” he says, voice quiet. “Sorry, didn’t wake ya did I?” 

“No, no, I just woke up actually. What time is it?” she says, reaching for her phone.

“Just past nine. I know ya don’t usually like sleepin’ that late, but you had a big day yesterday so I figured you probably needed it,” he explains. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Not at all,” she answers easily, sitting up and settling against the headboard, and Ted enters the room. He’s carrying a little tray in his hands, God knows where he found that. She spies a mug of tea, a familiar pink box, a little bowl of strawberries, and a jar with a few daisies in it, presumably from the little patch outside. He gives her a shy smile as he places it down on the bed in front of her, and oh , that’s what it is, she loves him, she loves Ted.

It hits her so immediately and so clearly that it almost knocks her breath away, this truth that she knows has been in her for a while. It’s almost a relief now that she’s allowed it to bubble forth and be set free; it’s no longer pressing against the cage of her battered heart, but instead it’s flowing through her like a current, like something alive.

Of course she loves him, how could she not? This sweet, absurd, human embodiment of all that is good, a man who sees her for who she is and stays with her anyway. Who has seen her at her worst but has never held it against her. Who she can’t imagine being her best without. 

“You okay, Boss?” Ted asks, and she realizes that she’s been staring, probably looking fairly shell shocked into space, for God knows how long as she’s had her little (big) epiphany.

“Yes, sorry, I’m fine, this is really lovely Ted, you-,” she begins.

“If you’re about to say, didn’t have to, I’d like ya to stop right there,” he says sternly, and she obeys. “Alright, so I’m thinkin’ you enjoy this lil pre-breakfast while I call Henry, and then you can come down and walk me through makin’ a real breakfast, how does that sound? You’re the chef but I’m the hands today, okay?” He’s so earnest and eager, and god she loves him. 

But she’s not quite ready, yet, or maybe ever, to speak that into the universe, and especially not to Ted. Because it’s Ted, and while he’s imperfect as all people are, he’s perfect in his imperfections. And she’s… well, she’s let her imperfections define her for so long that she’s not sure she knows how to be anything other than an amalgamation of them.

So she just nods, gives him a small grin, and he gives her a wave as he heads back downstairs. She picks up the tea, it’s shade exactly as it should be, and takes a small sip. 

“Jesus fuck, of course it’s perfect,” she whispers, throwing her head back against the headboard. 

Ted stays through early afternoon, making a truly delicious frittata with her gentle guidance from behind the counter, and then they end up finishing the third season of Killing Eve, and Ted flits about getting her medicine and tea and anything he can think of she might wants, and she frets about him wasting his one free weekend day on her - the match luckily is tomorrow - and he waves off her concern every time. He eventually leaves her in Keeley’s care - under strict guidance, the both of them, to call him if either of them needs anything - and while Rebecca is happy to have a movie marathon and cuddle session with Keeley, she does immediately feel the loss of Ted within the confines of her space. 

Because I love him , she thinks, and it’s funny, she refuses to say these words out loud, but she absolutely cannot stop thinking them. Because it’s a simple statement but it explains everything . It means everything . She turns the words over and over in her head, expecting them to be accompanied by a feeling of panic, or fear, or even maybe elation, but it’s just this overriding sense of certainty, and with it, serenity, as if this is the only possible outcome. And maybe it is.

Keeley stays the night and keeps her company until they head to the match together, and offers approximately fourteen times to help Rebecca shower, but having had broken her arm as a teen, Rebecca knows how to wrap it to keep it safe from the water. 

“I really would be happy to help,” Keeley protests, holding one end of the plastic wrap.

“I’m sure you would,” Rebecca responds drily. “But no groping for you this time, sadly.”

“Alright, fine, your loss anyway,” Keeley pouts, before her eyes turn mischievous. “Or maybe you just want Ted to come shower with you instead.” Rebecca fixes her with a death glare because she actually hadn’t been thinking of Ted like that (though surely it was only a matter of time) but now she knew it was going to be a topic revisited once she was alone that evening. Luckily she must look scary enough that Keeley just rolls her eyes before putting her hands up in surrender and thankfully dropping the matter.

Monday is a blur of appointments and calls; her rescheduled Friday duties having been crammed in amongst the usual. Biscuits with the Boss is cut short by a call with a potential investor, and Rebecca feels the brevity more acutely than normal. Than Before, she thinks. Before she loved Ted. Well, Before she allowed herself to admit she loved Ted, in any event. 

And then Tuesday, she and Keeley have a breakfast meeting with the Bantr folks, so she texts Ted to make sure he knows she isn’t skipping out on him, and he tells her to just come on down to the coach’s office when she gets in, he’ll have her biscuits waiting along with that scouting report she had asked for last week.

“Hello gentlemen,” she greets warmly as she turns through the doorway of the coach’s office at half ten, and is met with five pairs of eyeballs swiveling towards her, and Roy’s annoyed face. 

“Am I interrupting?” she asks, amusedly, glancing at Ted, and he snaps out of it and shakes his head.

“No, nah, of course not. Never,” he reassures her, then glances about the room. “Alright, y’all, Diamond Dogs dismount, yeah?” and Rebecca has to press a hand to her mouth to keep from giggling as a variety of barks and howls come from Ted, Beard, Higgins, Nate, and Trent - Roy’s contribution a single, spoken, “bark.” Trent heads back to his desk, Higgins presumably to his office, Roy and Nate head out to set up training, and Beard pulls out a copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover which maybe shouldn’t surprise her by now, but does. 

She moves to rest a hip on the edge of Ted’s desk, not quite hopping up onto it, and Ted reaches into his backpack and pulls out not one, but two pink boxes.

“Do I even want to know what that was about?” she asks with a chuckle, and Ted grins.

“Nah, just some good old fashioned girl talk with a side of girl listen,” he says, and she grins back.

“Okay, normal biscuit delivery, and a special surprise biscuit delivery for ya, today, in honor of me spottin’ the molasses on sale at Tesco,” he says, peeling back one of the boxes with relish.

“Molasses cookies, my grandma’s recipe. Ya know, I don’t miss much about Kansas - pretty much just Henry and knowin’ what the hell is going on in a football game, but the food, the barbecue and the desserts? Mmm, I’m getting hungry just thinkin’ about it. These cookies, and lemon pie. The two best desserts in the world,” he says, ending with a chef’s kiss.

“Well that’s categorically false,” Rebecca states, “You’ve forgotten about Eton Mess,” and then takes a bite of the cookie.

“Fuck me,” she lets out unintentionally, and Ted’s ears pink. He never gets tired of that reaction. “Jesus Christ, Ted. Do you just put crack cocaine in everything you bake? Why is it all so bloody delicious?” She’s half accusatory in her praise, and Ted just shrugs.

“I dunno, Boss, must be the secret ingredient,” he tells her, earning him one of those fondly exasperated eyerolls he loves so much, the ones only he seems to be able to pull from her.

“You’re about to tell me the secret ingredient is love or belief or something unbelievably saccharine, aren’t you?” She asks, and Ted shrugs again.

“Hey, a magician never reveals his-” he’s cut off by the sound of the FaceTime alert on his phone going off. He looks down at his phone and the desk and does a double take. “Oh, uh, it’s my mom,” he says, not making any move to pick up his phone, just staring down at the contact photo that’s popped up, and Rebecca frowns.

“Aren’t you going to take that?” she asks, and her voice jolts Ted into action. 

“Yeah, uh, excuse me, Boss, I’m gonna just take this one to the boot room, I think,” he murmurs as he grabs his phone and brushes past her. “I’ll catch ya later, alright?” She nods, taking in his pinched brow and the insincere smile he tries to pass off as reassuring.

“What’s that about?” She asks once Ted’s gone, turning to Beard. He appears to be deeply engrossed in his novel, but Rebecca knows almost nothing gets past the man.

“What’s what about?” He asks innocently, bookmarking his page and looking up at Rebecca. She levels him with an incredulous look, and he sighs.

“You know how Ted has been working through his dad stuff with Doctor Sharon?” Beard asks, lowering his voice and cutting right to the chase.

Rebecca nods slowly. She’s not surprised Beard knows about Ted’s therapy, and his father’s suicide, not at all, but she’s a little surprised that Beard knows, or assumes, that she knows about it all. “Yes, I know,” she confirms, and Beard sighs.

“Yeah, so that’s all well and great except it hasn’t left much room for him to work through all his mom stuff. And I’m worried that this-” he gestures in the general direction of the boot room, “Is gonna mess up some of the work he’s doing.”

“Wait, what?” Rebecca asks, confused. “I’m sorry, are you telling me that Ted’s mum is some sort of arsehole? It’s Ted , he’s the best person I know, I assume he came from just the loveliest woman in the entire world. Or, you know, a lab designed for breeding human golden retrievers.”

“Do you hear him mention her often?” Beard posits, and Rebecca pauses. Now that she thinks back, he actually doesn’t mention his mother much at all. Just in brief asides in tales from his youth, or mentioning “Grandma” when talking with Henry, really. He knows a lot about Deborah (probably too much, honest, given her penchant for oversharing. Jesus Christ, at their last lunch she had talked about how her friend Lavinia’s labia were hanging out of her new bathing suit; Ted had choked on air and coughed for so long and so hard that Rebecca thought about starting the Heimlich) but Rebecca can’t think of much about Ted’s mum except her name, the fact she once left Ted at a clock tower, and that she always makes Henry take his hat off inside, which Henry thinks is dumb.

“No,” she says finally. “I don’t suppose he does.” 

“Look, Dottie isn’t a terrible person. She doesn’t mean to be hurtful. But they struggle, her and Ted. And it’s Ted, so he pretends they don’t, which, as you know,”

“Makes it worse,” Rebecca interjects, and Beard nods. “Well that’s shit. Ted should have a nice mum. A nice everything,” she says, half to herself, but Beard just fixes her with an shrewdly calm look.

“You don’t think you deserve Ted,” he says plainly, and Rebecca balks. Jesus fuck , who is this bloody mind reader of an assistant coach? Because how could he have reached so deeply inside her, where she buries that little truth, that big heartache, that very simple sentence that stops her every time she thinks of the possibility of Ted?

But Beard’s not looking at her with pity, or judgment, just honesty, and steels herself and prepares to meet him there.

“Ted deserves someone nice,” she essentially repeats, finally, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. “I’m not nice.”

“No,” Beard agrees, and Rebecca’s eyes shoot up at the ease with which he does, startled, hurt, resigned. “Ted deserves someone kind,” he corrects. “Nice and kind are different. Nice is simple, surface level. Sometimes sincere, sometimes not. Dottie Lasso is nice, generally, for example. But kind, that’s what matters. Kind is bone deep and constant. That’s what Ted needs, what he deserves. You’re not really very nice, Rebecca, but you’re exceptionally kind. Especially to him,” he says, giving her a small uptick of his lips, and she has to swallow a new lump in her throat before she can speak.

“I- thank you, Terry,” she says, wiping a knuckle under her eye, turning his words over in her mind. It feels true, she thinks, in spite of the niggling, traitorous part of her brain that says she isn’t either. She’s always hated being seen as cold, as scary, but it was easier to play that part in protection of herself than it was to leave herself open to the pain and heartbreak of being seen as she truly was, because what if people didn’t like what they saw? She lost her way a bit there, but she wants to be kind, she aches with the desire.

“Ted is nice and kind,” is what she says eventually.

“A rarity.”

“Keeley, too.”

“Despite the semantics, another rarity.”

“Roy’s kind. You’re kind,” she says, as if the act of sorting helps imprint the truthfulness of his statement into her brain. “Higgins is like… a split? 75/25, kind?” Beard hums in agreement.

It’s quiet for another moment, and then Ted walks back through the door, running a hand through his hair, and not for the first time judging by the look of it. He looks tired, withdrawn.

“All right?” Rebecca asks breezily, hoping not to sound too concerned, and Ted almost startles to see her still there, at his desk.

“Yeah, yeah, just, ya know, classic Midwestern mom stuff like bringin’ up embarrassing stories and guilting the crap outta you, but it’s all good, baby baby,” he says, harried, and Rebecca raises an eyebrow. “Alright, well I’m gonna go get changed for training, and Beard-o, wanna take the lead with the boys today?,” he says, grabbing his duffel bag. “Boss, enjoy those cookies - biscuits - whatever, and I’ll catch up with ya later.” Beard and Rebecca watch him leave, and then turn to look at each other.

“Oh, so she proper fucked him up, eh?” She asks, jerking her head toward the hall.

“Oh, undoubtedly,” Beard says with a sigh.

“Right,” Rebecca nods decisively. “Excellent.”

His mothers words aren’t so much playing on a loop in his head as they are battering against his skull in big, angry bounces. “Your son needs you.” “You need to come home, Teddy.”

His first response - guilt - is followed quickly by anger. Because how dare she? How dare she imply that he’s not there for Henry? How dare she imply that he, like his father before him, has abandoned his son? And further, how dare she assume that she knows where he belongs? But where the audacity really lies, is that somehow she’s picked up on the deepest insecurities he holds, the scariest possibilities he could face, and has dropped them directly into his lap so he has no choice but to confront them. He’s quiet, furious, anxious all throughout the rest of the day, and Rebecca’s cryptic text in the evening does nothing to improve his mood.

I won’t be in tomorrow (nothing wrong, please don’t worry) - can we raincheck BwtB?

And, would you mind terribly coming to mine tomorrow after your session instead of me coming to you?

She says not to worry, but of course he’s going to, because he’s pretty familiar with her weekly schedule and he can’t think of anything on it that would take up the whole day, and she hadn’t mentioned anything earlier. But before he can spin himself into even more of a tizzy, his phone pings again.

Truly, nothing to worry about. 

In spite of himself, he huffs out a laugh.

                    How’d ya know I was?

Because I know you, Ted. 

                    Alright, alright. Well, you promise you’d tell me if something was up?

Of course. Do you trust me?

Well, that’s just cheating.

                    You know I do.

Then trust me, everything is fine. I am taking a much needed day off tomorrow to sort some things, and dinner tomorrow is going to be a little tricky to transport 💜

Well, he can’t argue with that. Of course, he’s preemptively bummed about missing his morning Rebecca time, because it truly does set the tone for his entire day. But, especially these past few months, he does trust her to tell him if anything is amiss. He’s itching to talk to her, about his mom and Henry and home, to just be near her; the way her mere presence calms him is unlike any other balm. But he can make it until tomorrow evening, even if he doesn’t particularly like it.

A series of gifs of unlikely animal friends start flooding their text conversations, and he can’t help but laugh.

                    Thanks, Boss. I needed that. Hey, you find any of a lion and a panda?

You’ll be the first to know if I do.

He hearts the message, and works through a breathing exercise. He’s surprised to realize that he’s actually looking forward to talking things through with Sharon the next day, already starting to sort his thoughts in the ways she’s taught him [“which emotion is hiding under your anger?” “do you want to vent or do you want me to help you think through solutions?” “is there a problem that needs fixing or is there a feeling that needs to be felt?” These questions used to drive him insane, but he's gotta admit, they come in pretty handy.]

When Ted wakes on Wednesday morning, he groans when he remembers it’a a Rebecca-less day at the office. But he doesn’t have much of a chance to dwell on that because when he checks his phone, he has four texts from Rebecca, clearly photoshopped (and fairly decently, it takes him a minute before he settles on Nora as the likely accomplice) of lions and pandas in various snuggly positions.

He laughs out loud, shaking his head a bit. She always manages to surprise him, always manages to brighten his day, always knows when his day needs brightening. She is, simply, the best.

                    See? The greatest of pals!

I guess so. Who knew?

                    Who’d ya get to help you with those?

What makes you think I’m not capable of using Photoshop, Ted?

                    Nora?

Yes, obviously.

He makes it through the day alright, Beard and Roy must sense he’s a bit off kilter (well, Beard can read him like a book so this isn’t super surprising, but what is surprising, and touching if he’s being honest, is that Roy’s being a little gentler than usual) so they help keep his mind off things with silly would you rathers (Beard) and movie questions. Apparently Roy is a secret cinephile, Ted is delighted to find out. 

He makes it back to his flat for his session with Sharon, and if he thought about it he’d laugh at how his initial reticence for therapy has grown into almost an eagerness - it’s a place to sift through his thoughts and feelings, get his mind sorted, and even though it’s hard work, and often draining, more often than not these days he’s left feeling somewhat peaceful afterwards, as well. 

When his hour’s up - and Sharon even stays on an extra five minutes and gives him two bonus questions because she’s proud of him (he preens) to make sure he’s all good, Ted signs off, still upset with his mom, still hearing her words in his mind, and still a bit jumbled inside, but on the whole, feeling more settled and more ready to do a little soul searching. The thought of seeing Rebecca soon doesn’t hurt his mood at all, either.

He’s pretty curious what she could be making this week that wouldn’t travel well - she’d managed to lug a truly delicious potato leek soup over here one week, along with homemade crusty bread - and he’s running through possibilities in his mind all the way up to her doorstep.

One possibility he did not consider, because frankly it seems like way more of an impossibility, is that Rebecca has recreated a Kansas City barbecue in her kitchen. Pulled pork, burnt ends, coleslaw, baked beans and potato salad are all arranged on her kitchen island, with an impressive looking lemon pie sitting off to the side.

She glances at him nervously once she’s led him into the kitchen, where he stands, mouth agape, taking in the scene before him.

“You said this was what you missed the most, other than Henry, and I actually did call Michelle but he has a baseball tournament this weekend, as you know, so… I just, I thought this might - I thought you might like this,” she finishes lamely, hoping beyond hope that she hasn’t entirely embarrassed herself. “Ted?” she says quietly when he remains silent.

His name from her mouth does seem to reach him, because he turns to look at her, completely bewildered.

“You… you made all this? Today? For me?” he asks, that familiar good pressure in his chest swelling when he looks at her.

“Yes. Well, I started last night, but yes. I told you I had some things to take care of,” she says, and he nods.

“You did. I just didn’t think it was this,” he says, still in disbelief. “Rebecca, this is - this is amazing. You’re amazing,” he says, pulling her in for a hug, missing the way she flushes at the compliment.

“I just wanted to make you feel better,” she murmurs against his shoulder, and oh that hits him square in the heart.

“You always do,” he whispers back, inhaling deeply, squeezing her just that little bit tighter. 

“I hope it tastes okay,” she admits. “It was my first time making most of this stuff, but they sent the recipes over yesterday so it should all be the same.” 

“Who’s they?” Ted asks, pulling back to look at her. “You have a sous chef hiding somewhere?”

“Arthur Bryant’s,” she says, like it’s obvious. “I know that’s your favorite. It is, right?”

“Wait - I’m sorry, you called Arthur Bryant’s Barbecue in Kansas City, Missouri, and somehow convinced them to send you their recipes?”

“Well, yes,” Rebecca admits. “Although it was less convincing and more paying, but yes.” He lets out an incredulous laugh, and she smiles a bit bashfully. 

“And then, what, you somehow found all these ingredients on this side of the pond and just whipped this whole feast right up? You sure are something else, Rebecca, I tell ya,” he says, breaking into a wide smile. Her cheeks pink again, and then she hands him a plate, and as he’s dishing himself up, talking Rebecca through the proper way to build a spectacular plate of barbecue, he remembers one of the questions Sharon had left him to think over. 

“Where do you feel at home, Ted? And I don’t mean which city, or which country. I mean, which moments do you feel utterly at home?”

Here , he thinks. With her. This is home.

Chapter Text

“Do you want to talk about your mom’s call?” Rebecca asks after they’ve migrated to her couch, each with another of the imported beer the lovely woman from Arthur Bryant’s had recommended be paired with the food. (She’d been slightly incredulous, the nice sounding Laura, at the sum Rebecca had offered up, unprompted, for the recipes in question, and had answered all of Rebecca’s other inquiries easily.)

Ted had eaten with unmitigated glee, delighted by how expertly she had recreated his favorite food, at the lengths to which she’d gone to cheer him up.

“Good golly, Rebecca, you could open up your own shop this side of the pond, call it Sir Arthur Bryant’s or somethin’, and I don’t think anyone would ever know you weren’t Arthur himself,” he tells her once his plate has been cleared for the second time, and Rebecca grins at him.

“Yes, but then who would make sure my football team wasn’t patrolling the sewers like the goddamn Ninja Turtles?” she asks teasingly, and Ted rolls his eyes.

“That was one time, Rebecca, and it was all about the metaphor!” he protests with laughter, and the way her nose scrunches when she giggles lands in his heart. She moves to grab their plates, but he shoos her out of the way, asks after her arm, and even though she assures him it’s fine, he places the dishes in the sink, grabs a couple of beers and nods towards her den.

Rebecca follows automatically and grabs one of the fuzzy blankets she keeps stored in a basket next to the couch, as Ted gently toes off his shoes. He hands her a bottle wordlessly, and the silence feels expectant, somehow, so her question doesn’t quite come as a surprise.

“No, not particularly,” he answers with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Made me feel like real dog doo, gettin’ that call from her,” he admits, and Rebecca frowns.

“Did you talk to Sharon about it?” she asks, and Ted nods.

“Yeah, yeah. But I… I wanna talk to you about it too? If that’s okay?” he looks at her with slight trepidation, and Rebecca’s heart drops, for one because she never wants him to be afraid to talk to her about anything , and for two because what could he have to say to her that has him looking that anxious?

She reaches for his hand, more for her sake than his if she’s being honest,  in need of a lifeline to him, and she arranges herself so that she’s fully turned toward him, long legs crossed in front of her.

“Ted, you can talk to me about anything,” she says quietly. “I hope by now you know that,” she adds, and he must hear the bit of hurt in her voice because his eyes widen.

“Course I do, Becca, it’s just… it’s all just still kind of a jumbled mess and I don’t really know where to start,” he sighs, and she relaxes a bit in relief.

“Well, as our good friend Maria would say, let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start ,” she sings the words and for a second all anxiety is wiped off Ted’s face as he beams at her.

“A Sound of Music reference? Oh, Rebecca, you get me,” he says sweetly, and she can’t help the fond smile that overtakes her face. “But yeah, okay, you’re right as usual.” He takes a steadying breath and feels Rebecca’s thumb ghost over his knuckles, relishing in the gentle touch.

“My mom said that Henry needs me. And that I need to come home. But she meant it… she meant it to be like, I’m not bein’ a good dad to Henry if I’m over here. Like, he needs me there , or else I’m no better than my old man,” he tells her, voice low and sad. “And I dunno, maybe it’s selfish, and maybe I’m selfish, but I want to be happy, too, Rebecca. But I can’t do that to my son,” his voice breaks, and Rebecca’s heart goes along with it. Well, to be fair, the crack in her heart had started when he mentioned home, meaning Kansas, and though they were his mother’s words and not his, the sting of that pinched at her.

Because she had always known it was a possibility that Ted would leave, leave Richmond, leave the UK, leave her. He signed a three year contract that, at the time of signing, she had no intention of having him see out, but it’s nearing the end of the third year and the thought of him saying goodbye puts a pit in her stomach that feels more like a crater. And of course, she would never fault him, not in a million years, if he felt he needed to leave her to be with his son. And even though it would rip her in two, she would understand, at least logically, because one of the things she loves most about Ted is what a good father he is. And if he wants to move back to Kansas to be the dad he never got to have himself, then she wouldn’t blame him.

She wouldn’t blame him, but she would mourn for him. Because she has a sneaking suspicion that he doesn’t want to move back to Kansas. He’s never mentioned the possibility, it’s been over a year since he’s talked about “going home” versus “heading to Kansas”, and he’s been talking about this pub trivia league he’s trying to get Mae to join. He’s happy here, she thinks, overall. He’s wanted here, she knows this deep in her bones. Not just by her, but by Keeley, and Roy, and Higgins, and all the boys he’s coached, and all the supporters he’s won over. By Shannon, the girl who Ted wants to hire to manage the summer youth program. By Rocco, the guy at their favorite fish and chips joint, who pulls out pictures of his grandkids that Ted purses with enthusiasm. He’s building a life here, Rebecca thinks, whether he realizes it or not.

And of course, she would mourn for herself, too. Because while she intends to keep her feelings for Ted to herself, at least for the foreseeable future, the thought of someday, maybe , is what keeps her going. The thought of never feels untenable, insurmountable. It feels like something from which she would never recover.

“Ted, you’re not your father,” she reminds him, voice firm but soft. 

“I know, I know,” Ted responds, voice still thick. “But ain’t I? I got this kid, this wonderful, kind, funny, smart kiddo, who I love more than life itself, and here I am, four thousand miles away from him for most of the year. What the hell is that, Rebecca?” he’s so pained, so haunted, the tears forming in his eyes, his hands clenched around hers. He sounds utterly defeated, and Rebecca hates it.

“What’s Henry’s science teacher’s name?” she asks, and Ted raises his eyes to look at her in confusion. He doesn’t answer, and she squeezes his hand to prompt a response.

“Mrs. Mitchell, why?”

“And what color shirt did Henry wear yesterday?”

“Green. Rebecca-”

“And how did Henry feel about being moved from outfield to shortstop?”

“He’s pleased as punch about it, but he’s worried he’s gonna mess up some of those line drives, so he’s hopin’ to practice a little bit before the weekend,” Ted answers, starting to see where Rebecca is taking her line of questioning. 

“Look, I don’t think it’s simple or clearcut, but I just want you to know, Ted, that even if you are not physically present with your son as often as you want to be, or think you should be, you’re still a good dad. From what I can tell, an excellent one, although truth be told my bar is fairly low,” she says wryly, coaxing a small smile out of him.

“I mean, I just… what kind of guy puts his own happiness over his kid’s? That’s not the kind of guy I wanna be, Rebecca,” he says, because if he’s being honest, he is happy here, in Richmond, in a way he never felt in Kansas. 

[“Ted, did you like living in Kansas?” Sharon asks, irrefutably calm as ever. 

“Sure, I mean, it’s nice to know the people you see around town, ya know, and it’s nice to be close to family - well, I guess it’s Michelle’s family really that we saw the most, but still. And the weather’s not too terrible, although in the summer it’s pretty muggy, but it’s fun takin’ Henry to Royals games, and to the children’s museums and all,” he explains affably, and Sharon just looks at him.

“I’d like you to think about what you just said, Ted. I asked you if you liked living in Kansas, and nothing you just said indicated that the answer is yes.” He frowns. That can’t be true. He thinks back over his words, and realizes she has a point.

“Well,” he starts again. “Henry’s in Kansas,” he states, as if that’s an answer, but Sharon just continues to look at him with her irritatingly passive face, and Ted stumbles to continue. “Obviously I like livin’ in the same place as my son, Doc,” he says, with a hint of condescension he doesn’t actually feel.

“Yes, Ted, I believe that’s true,” Sharon agrees. “But if Henry were in say, Siberia, would you like living there?” 

“I mean, I bet you could make some pretty cool snowpeople,” he jokes, deflecting, and then concedes in the face of Sharon’s unimpressed look. “No, I would not,” he says softly.

“So I’m going to ask you again, Ted. Forget about Henry for just a moment - I know, he’s your child, I’m not asking you to throw him out the door. Stick with me here,” she says, correctly anticipating his protests. “Henry aside, did you like living in Kansas? Were you happy there? I’m going to set a timer for 60 seconds and you have to wait for it to ding before you answer,” she warns him, having found this tactic extremely helpful during their sessions (Ted would agree, albeit extremely begrudgingly.)

He follows the instructions, and thinks back over his life in Kansas. He didn’t think it was all that bad, honestly, he didn’t. He liked being married, liked being someone’s person. He loved - loves - being a dad, just like he loves being a coach. He thought it was normal to just… stay friends with the guys you went to high school with, meet up with them every other Sunday to watch whatever game was on, crack open a few beers. 

He thought it was just what you were supposed to do, going to dinners at your in-laws a couple times a month, studiously avoiding politics with your father-in-law, visiting your own mom, difficult as she may be, as often as your mental state could allow. 

So yeah, he didn’t hate his life in Kansas. It was comfortable, normal , in a way that he had craved since that fateful night when he was sixteen. 

The timer dings, and Sharon nods at him.

“I thought I did,” he begins, “And I don’t think I was necessarily… unhappy . Or at least, I wasn’t actively unhappy, maybe? But I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me that’s not exactly the same thing as being happy,” he guesses, and Sharon drops a small grin.

“Bullseye,” she states, and Ted rolls his eyes.

“Okay, we’re going to do this same exercise again, and this time I want you to examine your life here, in Richmond. Do you like living here? Are you happy here? Timer starting now,” she says, but Ted doesn’t need the sixty seconds, not at all. Still, he’s nothing if not a good student, so he diligently closes his eyes and thinks about Richmond.

He loves coaching, he loves that anywhere, but coaching here, at this level, with the passion of the supporters and rich history of it all, it is objectively every coach’s dream. He sees himself on the green with Rebecca, exploring random little historical gems around London that Beard seems to just magically know about, watching Bake Off with the guys and Mae. His mind flashes to karaoke nights where Beard entertains and Rebecca stuns and the boys look confused at any song written before 2015. He sees dinners with Julie and Leslie, Henry and Dana having become fast friends on Henry’s last trip over. Afternoons at Keeley’s where Roy mans the grill to avoid talking to anyone and Keeley and Rebecca try desperately to get Beard to admit that Jane sucks (they’re getting closer, and last time he got invited to girl talk, Phoebe’s teacher Ms Bowen had come up quite a bit as a suitable option.) After game celebrations where Jamie hugs him tightly and Sam thanks him and Bumbercatch pulls up pictures of his latest knit creation to show off with pride.

But above all else, he sees Rebecca. Rebecca, in his flat on Wednesday nights with her delicious food and soft sweaters. Rebecca in the owner’s box, beaming down at him after another hard fought win. Rebecca in her battle armor, her fancy outfits, standing behind her desk and ready to take on whatever chauvinist bullshit gets thrown her way. Rebecca, flourishing, reclaiming pieces of herself she’d been deprived of for years. 

When the timer does ding, he simply opens his eyes and gives a rueful smile. “Yes, I’m happy here. Really happy. But Henry’s happiness comes first. It has to,” he says, exasperatedly, because what about that doesn’t make sense to her?

“Happiness isn’t a zero sum game, Ted,” Sharon reminds him. “It’s not either you’re happy or Henry is happy, and the other one of you is miserable. There’s a wide range of options in between those two extremes. I’d like you to keep that in mind, see if there are any within that range you’d like to explore.”]

In the present, Rebecca’s response to his similar statement echoes Sharon’s almost completely.

“But why does it have to be that only one of you is happy? Ted, you know I care about Henry very much and of course I only want what’s best for him. But what about you? You deserve to be happy, too. More than almost anyone I know, you deserve that,” she says, her voice wavering slightly. “I just… I hate that you’re thinking of it like that, like you have to sacrifice yourself. There has to be a way to fix this, Ted, to get you and Henry both what you need. I’m very rich and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Ted. Please let me help you figure this out,” she pleads. “Please.”

When he meets her eyes, he sees the pain there, the heartbreak that he thinks is probably for the both of them, and has no choice but to accept, no choice but to nod, because he doesn’t trust his voice, no choice but to do whatever it takes to wipe that devastation off of her face. He doesn’t think she realizes how tightly she’s clutching onto his hands, but he can feel the desperation in the act, and he forces himself to swallow and breathe. Because he also feels an overwhelming sense of relief that Rebecca’s immediate reaction is to help him figure out how to make it work, that she doesn’t think he’s a shit father, that she wants him to be happy, too.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.” Her grip on his hand relaxes immediately, but then her body flies into his, wrapping around him in a tight hug. He allows himself to fully melt into her embrace and he doesn’t think there’s a place in this world he’d rather be, now or ever, than in the comfort of her arms. 

“Michelle and I are due to revisit the custody arrangement this summer, anyway. I wanna talk to her, and to Henry - Sharon thinks I’m going around assumin’ things and expectin’ the worse and that maybe I should hold my horses and get some facts first,” he says eventually, when he’s able to speak easily. 

“Now that doesn’t sound like you,” Rebecca teases, pulling back, and Ted gives her a wry grin. 

“I just wanna be a good dad, Rebecca. I want Henry to know that he is, above all else, my number one. I never ever want him to feel the way I did when my dad died,” he admits softly, and Rebecca can’t help but reach up to run her fingers along her cheek.

“I get it, I truly do. But I think Sharon is a very sensible person, and she’s right. Start with the facts, and we’ll go from there. We will figure this out Ted, I swear it. Whatever we need to do, we’ll make it work, okay?” she says, and his heart swells at the use of “we.” 

“Yeah, alright,” he nods. He regards her for a moment, then asks a question that’s been on his mind for a while now, especially having seen her interact more and more frequently with Henry lately.

“Did you ever think about having kids?” he asks, and Rebecca’s entire body stiffens in an unmissable way. 

“Only every day for the past fifteen or so years,” she says, her voice empty, detached, and Ted freezes at the sound. “But Rupert made sure to tell me, in no uncertain terms, how poorly I’d do as a mum, and of course, I listened to him,” she says with a mirthless chuckle. “And by the time I got away from that utter piece of shit, it was too late. Went to a fertility clinic and everything, this year. Unfortunately my ovaries have “stopped producing a meaningful quantity of viable eggs’,” she quotes sadly, and Ted feels his heart ripping anew for her. 

“Oh, Rebecca,” he breathes as she tears up. “Oh honey.” The endearment slips out as he pulls her into him, this time laying back slightly so she can rest her head on his chest, his hand stroking mindlessly through her hair. She clutches onto his sweater as she cries, and Ted himself feels utterly bereft, unable to do anything to fix this for her, but unable to stop running through every possible solution.

“Have you ever… I don’t wanna be insensitive, or assume anything, but have you ever looked into adoption?” he asks quietly, and when he looks down at her, her green eyes are so sad it’s overwhelming, crushing his insides. 

“Who would pick me?” she whispers, setting her worst fear free into the atmosphere. “Who would give me a baby?” she asks, almost rhetorically, and oh , Ted doesn’t think he can bear this, there is no universe in which his heart can take this amount of torment coming from this woman who he is realizing, in real time, that he absolutely loves in a way he didn’t think existed before, in a way that feels like no one could ever possibly experience, a way that consumes every fiber of his being.

“Rebecca,” he says firmly, grabbing her shoulders and turning her gently to face him. “You are the bravest, strongest, smartest person I know. You have the biggest, deepest heart, and I know it’s taken some hits, but the amount of love in there, that you have for the people you care about? It’s limitless,” he tells her, and she sobs again, because he’s right, he is, she has so much love to give and for so long, no one to give it to, but it’s there, it’s bubbling beneath the surface, ready to flow free.

She cries now in relief that someone else has seen it in her, too, that it’s Ted who sees it, the person she wants to practically bury in it. He lets her cry against him, whispering gentle comforts and repeating how brave she is, how kind, how amazing. She soaks up every word, every second of it, letting it patch pieces of her heart and soul that have needed mending for so long now. 

Once she’s calmed herself, once the tears have dried and she’s apologized for how wet his jumper is, Rebecca sits up, and admits one more thing to him.

“Keeley sent me a list of the best agencies,” she says quietly. “Adoption agencies. Right after I went to the clinic. I haven’t looked into them yet. I don’t know if I can.”

“That’s okay,” Ted tells her. “You don’t hafta do anything with it. But it’s good to know it’s there, if you decide you wanna look into that.”

“Yeah,” she breathes. 

“Keeley’s a good friend,” he states, glad that Rebecca had someone else as staunchly on her side as he was, and Rebecca smiles.

“The best,” she confirms, and Ted drops his jaw in fake outrage.

“Hey now, what am I, chopped liver?” he asks, and his favorite Rebecca expression, the fond, warm look that she tries to tinge with exasperation, graces her face.

“No, Ted, you can’t be my best friend,” she tells him seriously. “It’s - you’re just… you’re my Ted,” she says, as if that explains everything, and Ted softens because, honestly, it almost does.

“Well,” he says warmly. “I get that. I’ll be your Ted any day of the week, and you be my Rebecca, okay?” He asks sweetly, and Rebecca’s cheeks pink as she hums in agreement.

“Now, this has been a real doozy of a forty eight hours for me personally, and to be honest, I think we both look like rock stars after a Vegas bender at the moment, but I believe I saw a lemon pie on the counter earlier, and I think it would be a real shame for that to go to waste,” he says seriously, and Rebecca marvels at the ease with which the two of them can move through these deep, turbulently emotional waters, and still land safely on the other side. 

“Alright, come on you,” she says, standing and pulling him with her, hand still soft in his. “Dessert makes everything better.”

“A freakin’ men, sister,” he replies heartily, following her soft eye roll. I’d follow her anywhere , he thinks. My Rebecca.

Chapter Text

“Heya, Boss!” Ted greets her brightly, bursting into her office on Friday morning. “You joinin’ us on the bus to Manchester?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Rebecca answers with a grin. It’s their second-to-last match of the season, and if they win, they’re in prime position to actually win the whole fucking thing. Energy around the club is high and a little manic, and if you told Rebecca three years ago that she’d be just as excited as anyone, let alone voluntarily riding on the team bus, she’d have had you committed. “Bus leaves at noon?”

“Sure does,” Ted confirms, handing her a box of biscuits. She thanks him and then studies him for a moment before heading to the espresso machine she’s recently purchased. 

She considers herself a fairly good reader of Ted’s moods - both the ones he claims to be in, and the ones he’s actually in - and he seems calm, light, only the slightest bit of nervous energy that she thinks probably mirrors her own about the upcoming match.

“You seem quite happy this morning,” she notes, pulling out coffee grounds, and Ted beams at her, like he was just waiting for her to notice.

“Well, you see, a coupla smart ladies I know talked some sense into me this week. I called Michelle yesterday and had just a little chat - none of the big stuff - but just feelin’ her out on working on a more equitable custody arrangement, and she was really supportive of it. Said we could definitely figure somethin’ out,” he says, and Rebecca can see how much relief that must have brought him. 

[She doesn’t know the half of it. The second Michelle had answered, “of course, Ted, I think we should definitely talk about that. Henry loves being over there with you. He loves you,” Ted had nearly slumped over in joy. 

“Amazing, thanks Michelle,” he had said, almost choking up, and Michelle had spent a long moment looking at him, biting her lip.

“I owe you an apology, Ted. I don’t think I’ve done a very good job at coparenting with you these past years,” she admits quietly, and Ted’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“I didn’t mean to,” she continues. “But I certainly didn’t make it easy for you to feel like you could ask for things from me. Things you deserve, things Henry deserves. More time together, either here or there. And for that, I’m sorry.” She looks truly contrite and Ted swallows.

“Wow. Well, I uh, I appreciate that, Michelle. And hey, we’re just doin the best we can for Henry, the both of us. But yeah, I’d love to get a meeting on the books when I’m back, end of the month. I wanna get Henry’s thoughts, too, since ya know, it’s his life.”

“Sounds great, Ted,” Michelle says gratefully. “Is Rebecca coming with you?” she asks offhandedly, and Ted’s brow furrows.

“Rebecca? Rebecca Welton?” he clarifies, and it’s Michelle’s turn to frown.

“Yeah? You have another Rebecca over there?” she jokes.

“No, no, why’d the boss be coming with me to Kansas?” He asked, puzzled, and then Michelle looks at him, seemingly equally as puzzled.

“Oh, I just thought…,” she studies him for a minute, then shakes her head. “Never mind. You know she called me the other day? Wanted to see if she could fly Henry out there for the weekend.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Sorry, I think she was tryin’ to cheer me up, knows Henry’s the best way to do that.” 

“I thought it was really nice of her, actually. She offered to come get him herself and accompany him,” Michelle clarifies. Huh. Ted did not know that part, but it tugs at his heart a little bit, the lengths at which Rebecca was willing to go to to put a smile on his face.  “She said something about your mom giving you a hard time.”

“Yeah, well, you know my mom,” Ted laments, and Michelle chuckles.

“I do. And Ted - I feel like it’s my right and duty as her former daughter-in-law to tell you, that whatever guilt she’s trying to lay on you is bullshit,” she lowers her voice on the last word, presumably so Henry doesn’t hear, and Ted lets out a surprised huff. 

“Shoot, I always thought you liked my mom,” Ted laughs, and Michelle rolls her eyes. They catch up a bit more - including Michelle dropping the fact that she broke up with Dr. Jacob at the end of the call, and when Ted hangs up he feels like a giant weight has been lifted from his shoulders.]

“That’s lovely, Ted. That’s great,” Rebecca tells him, and she means it, she truly does, and he knows she does, but he must hear something in her voice because he frowns.

“She’s not a bad person, ya know. Michelle,” he clarifies, and Rebecca looks caught out.

“I didn’t say anything,” she protests, and Ted raises his eyebrows at her.

“Your face and your voice sure did,” he explains, and Rebecca sighs. Perhaps he’s as adept at reading her as she is him. 

“I just…,” to be honest, Rebecca has a hard time with Michelle for no other reason that she has caused Ted pain, whether intentional or not, and regardless of whether or not said pain led him to a better place (she certainly hopes he’d consider where he is now, emotionally and physically, to be an upgrade) her instinct is to always, always protect Ted. But, saying all that seems like it would really be saying a lot more than that, so she stumbles a bit before seizing onto some low hanging fruit. “She’s banging your bloody couples’ therapist, for Christ sake! The only reason I didn’t call and report him was because you asked me not to, but Ted, I’m sorry, that is well and truly fucked up,” she argues heatedly. 

They’d argued about this before, the Dr. Jacob situation, after he and Michelle had come back from Paris. Ted had told Rebecca that no proposal had taken place, and anyway, she was right, it didn’t matter. And then he’d let it slip how exactly Michelle and Dr. Jacob had met, and Rebecca had practically been apoplectic. Ted was a little chuffed, he had to admit, at how irate Rebecca was on his behalf. It felt good to know that he wasn’t wrong or out of order to be a little suspect of the ethics around dating your former client, especially one who you’d seen as part of a married pair. 

Rebecca had threatened to call the “Board of Whoever the Fuck in Kansas or Missouri, Whichever Fucking One,” but Ted had talked her down from the idea. What he thought of Dr. Jacob was one thing, but this was Michelle, the mother of his child, and a woman who, though he was no longer in love with, was someone he would always hold love for. Rebecca had extremely reluctantly deferred to Ted’s ask, but she was known, whenever Dr. Jacob’s name came up, to make a variety of underhanded comments. Ted admired the dedication.

“As much as I appreciate you defendin’ my honor, and don’t get me wrong, Rebecca, I appreciate it wholeheartedly, Dr. Jacob is actually no longer in the picture,” Ted lets out, and Rebecca swivels her head.

“Why didn’t you lead with that? Good god Ted, you are truly awful at girl talk,” she tells him, dumping a load of syrup into a steaming mug, and Ted nods.

“Yeah, yeah, so I’ve heard. Mostly I was focusin’ on the part where Michelle agrees that Henry should spend more time with me,” he says, fixing her with a look, and Rebecca has the good grace to look chagrined.

“God yes, of course, that is much more important. That really is great, Ted,” she says warmly. “I’m proud of you for bringing that up with her. And I’m glad she was receptive. Let me know however I can help, okay? Time off or use of the jet - don’t tell Nora - if you need a good solicitor, anything.”

“I will. I’m sure there’ll be somethin’ I’ll need help with after we have a longer conversation, and I know you’re the gal to go to,” he promises. “But right now let’s focus on kickin’ Man City’s butt, yeah?” She nods in agreement, handing him the coffee she’s been making. “Hey, thanks! This is new, what’s the occasion?”

“I figure Coffee with the Coach could be a new addition to Biscuits with the Boss,” she says casually, whereas in fact she had spent an inordinate amount of time learning how to make coffee that didn’t taste like coffee, and researching the best machine for the job. Frankly, it’s just an excuse to keep Ted in her office slightly longer each morning, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“Love it. Thanks! Okay, I gotta run and make sure everything’s gettin’ packed up okay for Manchester, but I’ll see ya down there in a bit,” he says, taking a sip. “Oh, man, Rebecca, that’s delicious! You a secret barista as well as chef, now?”

“Just for you, Ted,” she smiles. “Save me a seat on the bus?” He grins, glad that they’re on the same page with that one, but can’t help a bit of teasing.

“You just wanna press me for information about the Michelle and Jacob break up, don’t you?”

“Obviously. But I also cannot get into another argument with Beard about the Bronte sisters, so really it’s a kill two birds situation,” she volleys back, and Ted laughs before high-fiving her coat tree and waving goodbye.

She hears him pass Keeley on the stairs, clearly stopping for a moment to chat, and when Keeley eventually makes her way into Rebecca’s office she plops down on the couch with a dramatic flourish.

“Oof, Ted’s sure in a good mood. You think he got laid last night?” She asks, eyes wide, and Rebecca winces.

“No,” she says shortly. “It’s Henry related.”

“Ah,” Keeley says. “Makes sense. Hey, I know what Sassy said, but do you think he really does talk the whole time?” Keeley tries to sound completely innocent, but her intentions are anything but. This Rebecca and Ted situation is getting out of control, and someone needs to do something. The heart eyes the two of them shoot at each other have gotten so out of hand Jamie has noticed, but Keeley knows that, as much as she loves the two, they're both absolutely gunshy about anything concerning the other. So, something has to happen, and needs must, Keeley’s here for the job.

“What?” Rebecca asks, and Keeley gestures out the door.

“Ted. Do you think he really does talk the whole time he’s having sex?”

“Good god, Keeley,” Rebecca startles, nearly spilling tea down her dress. She spends a lot of time trying and failing to not think about Ted in that way, and she certainly tries to keep the topic out of mind while at the office. Because it would be so, so easy to imagine just how good Ted would be, how thoughtful and full of praise, how well he listens to her… but no, that’s a dangerous path, one she generally has to muster considerable strength to avoid. But since Keeley mentioned it, she lets her mind drift. 

She thinks about the Ted she knows, the Ted she sees and hears. He’s different, somehow, for her. He’s genuine always, that’s clear, but somehow Rebecca knows that her Ted is more true, more sure, than the Ted everyone else knows. And it’s easy, then, and so dangerous, to know exactly how Ted would be.

“No,” she says, almost unthinkingly. “Ted talks when he’s nervous or anxious or uncertain of himself. I’m sure he was all three with Sassy,” she snorts. “I rather think if he was with - with the right person, he’d be much quieter. No jokes. Well, probably a couple, but not, not to take himself or m- whoever out of the moment. He wouldn’t be rambling but he’d be purposeful; his words are how he lets his love out. I think I- whoever - would be able to hear a hundred things in the few words he would say,” she finishes, staring into space, her eyes unfocused, completely oblivious and unashamed of what she’d just revealed.

It’s silent for a second and when Rebecca finally startles back into herself, Keeley is positively gaping at her (because yes, this was exactly the opening she’d been hoping for, plus a whole lot more) and Rebecca feels her stomach lurch.

“Rebecca. What the FUCK,” Keeley exclaims, eyes still wide as saucers, and a dark and immediate blush rushes up Rebecca’s body. She scrambles to think of something, anything to say that could undercut the emotional word vomit she’s just spewed about the amazing sex she imagines she and Ted would have, but Keeley doesn’t give her a chance.

“First of all, are you a secret romance novelist? Have you got a pen name I’m unaware of? Because that was like an absolutely gorgeous and bloody insane soliloquy, you soft minx, you!

Second of all, I know we don’t usually talk about Ted, and your very obvious - now extremely obvious feelings for Ted, and I do try to respect that because you spook like a beautiful and traumatized horse when the subject of your love life comes up, but Jesus Christ Rebecca, you’ve clearly spent a lot of time, a LOT of time thinking about the mind blowing soulmate sex you two will one hundred percent be having, so I am breaking my own rule to say again, what the FUCK, Rebecca?!”

Rebecca’s mind plows through a variety of excuses or silly asides, but she knows none of them will convince Keeley - and frankly, she’s sick of pretending she’s not bloody well fully in love with Ted. So she heaves a beleaguered sigh, closes her eyes, and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Any chance we can just skip through to the part where I admit that I do in fact have feelings for Ted?”

“Fuuuuuuuck,” comes from the doorway and Rebecca’s eyes snap open in horror. 

“Roy-,” she starts, but stops when he holds up a hand.

“No. Not interested,” he says, throwing Keeeley’s phone onto the couch next to her and immediately turning on his heel to leave.

“He actually is interested, he just has to keep up his Roy Kent facade, and then he’ll press me for all the info later,” Keeley says in a loud fake whisper, laughing when a muffled,

“Fuck off, babe,” comes from the stairs. Keeley rolls her eyes affectionately then turns back to Rebecca, who is bright red and wishing desperately the floor would swallow her whole.

“Right okay, so first of all,” Keeley starts calmly, before letting out a truly ear piercing shriek, hands flailing, and Rebecca hisses her name, running over to slam the door shut.

“Sorry, babe, I just had to get that out of my system. Okay, I am now ready for a point by point list of, exactly when and how you found yourself in love with one Ted Lasso?” she looks like a kid in a candy shop, Keeley does, and Rebecca slumps next to her on the couch, shoving her head into a pillow.

“I don’t know,” her voice is muffled, and Keeley pulls the pillow away from her face. 

“I really don’t know,” she says again, resigned to her fate of being interrogated by her tiny best friend.. “It just… it just happened. There wasn’t one thing, it’s just… he’s so bloody kind all the time, and funny and charming even when he’s the biggest fucking doofus in the world. And he listens to me, really listens, and pays attention, and he doesn’t need me to be Put Together Rebecca or Proper Rebecca or Rich Rebecca - don’t look at me like that, I’m happy to be Rich Rebecca for you, darling - he lets me be Real Rebecca. And I think he actually likes Real Rebecca,” she unloads, and Keeley blinks at her for several seconds before squealing again.

“Okay, I LOVE this for you!” she states, practically buzzing. “I mean, we’ve been waiting on you two for months , hoping one of you idiots would figure out that you’re like meant to be, and now you finally have! I’m so proud of you, babe,” Keeley gushes. 

“Who the fuck is we?” Rebecca demands, voice rising, and Keeley grins. 

“Oh, practically everybody. Beard, Trent, Nate, Roy though he won’t admit it, Jamie, Phoebe, Mae, Higgins, Julie, Nora, Sassy, your mum,” Keeley ticks off, and Rebecca’s face moves from red to ashen.

“Wait - you - all of those people think that Ted and I-” she blanches, and Keeley pats her arm sympathetically.

“Well, yeah, Rebecca, it’s hardly subtle, yeah? You two are proper soulmates,” Keeley says softly. “Oh, this is so exciting! Okay, so clearly you haven’t told him yet?”

Rebecca coughs out a laugh. “I have not. And I don’t intend to, at least not in this century,” she says definitively, and Keeley’s mouth drops open.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because,” she starts, knowing Keeley isn’t going to like what she’s going to say. “Because he’s too good for me. He deserves the world, Keeley, and I can’t give that to him. All I can give him is a boatload of luggage and several trauma responses,” she jokes without humor. Keeley’s eyes narrow for a second before she shoves herself into Rebecca, wrapping her little arms around Rebecca’s frame. 

“I love you, and you’re an idiot,” Keeley says into Rebecca’s chest, before pulling back. “You are Rebecca fucking Welton, and you have so much to offer I can’t even make a list or it would be ten thousand feet long and my hand would fall off from prolonged cramping,” she says with authority. “Anybody would be lucky to have your heart, Rebecca,” her voice is firm, and Rebecca feels the sting of tears prick at her eyes as she sees the sincerity in Keeley’s expression. “You’re beautiful inside and out and I never ever want to hear you talk about my best friend like that again. Do you hear me?” Rebecca nods hesitantly, and Keeley shakes her head.

‘Nope, I need to hear it. Do you hear me?” she asks again, slowly, and Rebecca feels a rush of love for this girl, this force of nature she’s lucky enough to have in her corner. 

“I hear you,” she whispers past the lump in her throat. “And I love you, too.”

“You’re allowed to be scared to tell Ted,” Keeley tells her. “That’s reasonable. Love is scary. But I do think you should tell him.” Rebecca sighs. 

“I’ll take that under advisement, but I make no promises,” she says wearily, and Keeley must realize she’s already pressing her luck, because with one last squeeze, she releases Rebecca completely.

“Okay, now, are you ready for the latest installment of Barbara trying to hit on the water delivery guy?” Keeley asks, and Rebecca laughs brightly.

“Yes, yes I am.”

Roy finds Ted down in the office, of course, packing up a few last things before heading to the bus. Luckily, other than Ted, it’s empty, and Roy lets the door swing shut behind him. Despite Keeley's entreaties, he actually had not been planning on approaching Ted re: the situation at hand, because it was none of his fucking business. But he had overheard enough of her conversation with Rebecca, and he had known Rebecca long enough - and related to her well enough - that he felt compelled to act.

“Oi,” he says in greeting, and Ted turns, notebook in hand.

“Hiya, coach,” Ted grins. “You ready for today?” Roy grunts in response, and then lingers uncomfortably in front of Ted’s desk, unsure how to go about starting this conversation. Ted must notice, because he finishes zipping up his backpack then sits on the corner of his desk, patiently.

‘Somethin’ you wanna chat about, buddy?” He asks, and Roy grunts again.

“You and I both know you hate it when I guess,” Ted reminds him with a smile, and Roy lets out a hefty sigh.

“Some people,” he begins haltingly. “Some people think that they’re not fucking worthy of love. It’s a shit feeling, wanting to be loved but thinking you should get fuck all,” he says, and Ted frowns. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“Roy-,” just like he did upstairs, Roy holds up a hand.

“I used to be one of those people. I still am, sometimes. But Keeley, she does love me. And I want to let her. She helps. Doctor Sharon helps. Don’t,” he warns, “ever fucking mention that I go to therapy or I will fucking end you,” Ted holds his hands up in preemptive surrender at the threat. “But I need to be fucking reminded, sometimes, like I’m fucking simple. So just… make sure you keep reminding her, okay?” he finishes, somewhat awkwardly, and Ted pauses, not following.

“Keep reminding who?” he asks, and Roy looks at him like he’s an idiot (he really wishes people would stop doing that.)

“Rebecca,” he says, like it’s obvious, and Ted gawks in confusion.

“Roy, I dunno what you’re talkin’ about, but Rebecca… she, I - we ain’t,” he stumbles, and Roy rolls his eyes.

“You love her, you arsehole,” and it’s the way he states it like it’s a fact, like it’s just a known truth of the universe, that gives Ted pause. Because, well, yeah , he does. He loves Rebecca, but he’s now realizing, suddenly and all at once, that something different is also true, that he’s in love with Rebecca, and he’s never actually said it before, but he’s unknowingly thought it in about a thousand different ways in a thousand different split seconds, and now that it’s been thought, it settles over him like a blanket, this love for her that simultaneously feels old as time and completely fresh and new. 

“Yeah,” is what slips out of his mouth, unbidden, and he lets out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, Roy-o, I sure do. But it’s complicated,” he adds, thinking of all the things he’s still working through, Henry, his mom, his dad, and all the things Rebecca’s still working through, her infertility, her dickwad of an ex-husband, her own parental issues. “It’s really complicated.”

“No it fucking isn’t,” Roy scoffs. “That’s a cop-out. Life is complicated, love is simple. Don’t fuck it up,” he cautions. “She deserves it all.” Ted is still a bit bewildered by this entire interaction, but he can’t help but dip his head in agreement.

“I won’t argue with you there, Coach,” he says, and Roy gives him a nod that clearly signals the end of this unexpected tete-a-tete. “Hey, Roy. Thanks, I think,” Ted offers him a small smile. “I appreciate you lookin’ out for me. And for her,” he adds, and Roy just fixes him with a stare.

“Don’t mention it. No really, don’t fucking mention it. I don’t want word getting out that I care about any of this shit,” Roy tells him. “And I think we should switch Colin and Bumbercatch, catch Man City off guard. See you on the bus,” he grumbles before heading out the door, leaving Ted to grapple with the difference between loving Rebecca and being in love with Rebecca in peace.

The four hour bus ride up to Manchester with her by his side makes several things clearer for Ted. One, there is absolutely no refuting that he is undeniably in love with Rebecca Welton. Two, things are complicated, for them both personally, and potentially for them as a pair, professionally, if in fact they turned into a true pair. Three, he is still haunted by the idea that he himself is too big a burden to place on another person. This last one he logically can rebut, he knows what Sharon, and Beard, and Rebecca herself would have to say about that. But entrenched habits are hard to overcome, and he doesn’t think he’s quite cleared the hurdle on that one yet. And that would be unfair to put on Rebecca, he thinks, failing to recognize the irony therein. 

So he resolves to keep this to himself, for right now. Because right now, sitting on the bus next to Rebecca as she fills in a crossword puzzle, glasses perched at the tip of her nose (and oh boy is that doing things to him) murmuring potential answers and asking Ted when she’s stumped, leaning into his space, her perfume tickling his nose, this can be enough. 

But then the next day Jamie scores a banger in front of his hometown crowd, and they're winning, and when the final whistle blows, Ted automatically looks up to find Rebecca in the stands, and her bright smile directed right at him seems to illuminate the entirety of the sky around them, and it’s then that he knows, without a doubt, that nothing short of everything will ever be enough when it comes to her.

Chapter Text

“Alright, so I assume you guys are wonderin’ why I called y’all in,” Ted says, running a hand over his face, buzzing with the same nervous energy he’s been holding since the Man City match. He looks at the guys stationed around the room and notes their separate but near simultaneous responses.

“I am not,” comes from Beard, and yeah, okay, but it’s Trent’s, “Seems quite obvious,’ and Higgins’ “Rebecca, presumably,” along with Roy’s eye roll that takes Ted by surprise. Luckily, Nate seems completely oblivious and answers with a clear, “yeah, what’s up?” that works to propel Ted to continue.

“Uh, okay, bit of a mixed bag here,” he states nervously, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Okay, well, so, as some of ya seem to have figured out, I wanna… I wanna talk about Rebecca,” he gets out, blushing a furious red. 

“Sorry - just - to be clear, you mean our boss, Rebecca? Rebecca Welton?” Nate stammers, and Ted nods.

“Yeah, Nate-o, that’s the one,” he confirms, then falls silent, looking expectantly around the room.

“Do you want to expound?” Trent asks, slowly. “Or do you want us to speculate?”

“Yeah, no, okay, sorry y’all just kinda caught me off guard there, what with the guessin. I’m tryin’ to figure out where to start?”

“Start with the part where you’re fucking in love with her, you idiot,” Roy contributes, not unhelpfully, and Nate chokes on air as Ted turns a new, deeper shade of red.

“Uh, okay, yeah, Roy, not a bad idea. So, uh, it has recently come to my attention that I have feelings for Rebecca, and not in a … in a boss coach way. In a different sort of way. A romantical sort of way,” he fumbles, and the other men in the room continue to stare at him quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Trent says, glancing around at the other blokes. “ Recently ?”

“Wait, have you two not been together for months now? Since the Super League debacle?” Leslie asks, looking as confused as Ted feels. “Julie was sure…”

“The owner of our club , Rebecca?” Nate is clearly still processing the information, and Beard sighs a long suffering sigh.

“Alright, let me break this down. Our sweet and unknowing Ted has been in love with Rebecca for months - if not years - don’t look surprised Ted, you and Nate are the only people who didn’t know. Well, and Rebecca, which is part of the problem. Despite the fact that they are currently actively dating ,” he looks at Ted purposefully here, and Ted swallows hard, this is not the first time Beard has made this point since he learned about Wednesday nights, “they are not in a relationship, because neither of them has yet been brave enough to do anything about the clear and obvious being in love situation. Does that sound right?” he directs at Ted.

“Yeah, I’d say that about covers it,” Ted replies meekly. “I wouldn’t call the bein in love situation ‘clear and obvious’ though, that seems a little extreme,” he mutters, and is met with several incredulous looks.

“Well wow, then,” Higgins says thoughtfully. “Ted, frankly, I can’t think of two people who are more well suited for each other,” he reveals, and Ted can’t help but bite back a smile at that. “I say go for it.”

“I’m in total agreement,” Trent adds. “Go for it.” He gets a grunt from Roy which he translates as a third to the motion of ‘going for it.’

“And by go for it, you guys mean…” he leads, and Beard slaps the desk in front of him.

“Good god man, tell her how you feel,” he exclaims, and all five men in the room jump at the outburst. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s been a long couple of days with Jane, but I’ll save that for tomorrow’s Dogs meeting,” he sighs.

“For fuck’s sake,” Roy whispers with a groan. “Beard’s right,” he says louder. “Just tell her you fucking love her and want to be with her and all that shit, and then you two morons can live happily ever after.”

“But does Rebecca love Ted?” Nate throws out with a grimace, but Ted is secretly grateful because that’s really the crux of the issue, isn’t it? It’s not the knowing he’s in love with her that’s the problem, it’s the not knowing how she feels about him. Because his mama taught him what happens to you when you assume something, and that’s a lesson Ted’s always taken seriously. 

“Yeah, I mean, I appreciate y’all’s enthusiasm and support here, but I’m… I’m not really interested in settin’ myself up for failure, or makin’ her uncomfortable, ya know?” 

He’s getting real tired of the condescending stares focused on him from every corner of the room. Trent must feel sorry for him because it’s with a note of pity in his voice that he breaks the silence.

“Ted,” he begins gently. “I’m writing a book about Richmond. I could write seven books based on the looks Rebecca gives you, the way she seeks you out, the way you two fit together.”

“It’s true,” Higgins chimes in. “I’ve known Rebecca for a long time. I’ve never seen her trust anyone like she trusts you, Ted. And with Rebecca, I think trust only comes with love,” he theorizes. 

“Look,” Roy says. “You always think you’re too fucking much, but you’re never too much for her. She always thinks she’s not enough, but she’s fucking enough for you. It’s fairytale bullshit, that is.” At the stunned looks from the other men at how succinctly he’s read their dynamic, Roy scoffs. “What? I’m emotionally fucking stunted but I’m not bloody blind.”

“Apparently not,” Trent says, impressed.

“Tell.her.how.you.feel,” Beard repeats again, each word punctuated. He points to the sign above his head (one Henry had made on his last visit, noticing the absence of the original) “ Believe .”

Nate whistles in appreciation and Ted huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, alright. Alright. Usin’ my own words against me, geez,” he mutters. “As long as y’all are sure?” he poses, and is met with nod after nod as he moves about the room, until he reaches Nate.

“The Rebecca upstairs, that Rebecca?”

When he wakes up the next morning, Ted feels the same sort of nervous energy bouncing around in his body that he hasn’t been able to shake since he looked up into the stands, saw Rebecca, and everything slipped into place, but this morning it has a finite point to it. Because it’s Truth Bomb Day, he’s decided. It’s the week between the second to last and last match of the season, precisely when she’s come to him with the previous two, and he’s ready. Whether or not she has a truth bomb - or what it could potentially be - that part he can’t dwell on without tingles of anxiety creeping into his already crowded brain, so he merely focuses on the tradition of it all.

Because this year, boy does he have a truth bomb for her. After his chat with the Diamond Dogs, and a preliminary zoom call with Michelle to map out what was possible in terms of schedule changes, and after Biscuits with the Boss yesterday with her in a terribly pretty green blouse, grinning at him as they exchanged answers to his question of the day  - 

[“Okay, it’s a weird one today, but Henry’s finishin’ up his unit on world geography and I guess his teacher asked them this on their test as a bonus question. Where would you wanna visit if it had to be a place that started with the same letter as your name?

“Mmmm… Rio, I think. I’ve never been and I’m far too old for Carnivale, but still, it seems lively and beachy and I can’t think of anything better than that,” she answers, confidently. 

“Ooh, I bet you really know how to do a beach vacay,” he responds, mind drifting to the way she’d look in a bikini, all sunkissed skin and legs for days, turning to him cheekily asking for help applying sunscreen. Before the fantasy can go on too long (which would never be long enough, frankly) he remembers where he is and looks at her hoping his face isn’t the shade of a tomato, but she just nods. 

“Stick around and you’ll find out,” she teases, and she doesn’t mean for it to sound quite as flirty as it does, but four ears tinge pink in the aftermath. “What about you? Tokyo? Thailand?” she asks, striving for an unaffected tone that she almost reaches.

“Tanzania. Go on a safari, see all those animals up close. I think Henry’d love it, and I think it’d be cool to go someplace so different from home, ya know? Richmond and Tanzania, can’t think of two more different places,” he adds, and Rebecca’s heart swells at the way he refers to Richmond as home. He’s been clear about that the past few weeks, she obviously knows, but it pings on her radar, sets her mind at ease, any time an offhanded comment of his reaffirms his desire to be here.

“Where did Henry pick?” she asks curiously, and Ted grins.

“Hamburg. So he could eat hamburgers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Which I’m pretty sure is not the diet of anyone who actually lives in Hamburg. Seven year olds,” he rolls his eyes affectionately while Rebecca laughs openly] 

-So yeah, he has a truth bomb for her this year. The truth bomb. The “I’m desperately in love with you, and also we might be soulmates, so would you like to have dinner with me tonight and maybe every night forever?” truth bomb. 

He’s as ready as can be for it, he thinks. Because truly, there is no other option. There’s no other choice in this world for him but to love her, and she deserves to be loved loudly, openly, bravely. So he’s going to be brave, and he’s going to believe, and he’s a romantic so he loves the idea of coming full circle with the truth bomb thing, of reframing the tradition to be something positive and worth celebrating, rather than a funny coincidental scheduling of news he doesn’t really want to hear that she doesn’t really want to deliver.

When he gets to work that morning - Beard had texted to say he was “avoiding Jane and needed to arrive to work surreptitiously” (yikes on bikes was Ted’s immediate thought) - he heads into the coach’s office alone, knowing he has a bit of time before the others trail in. He’s hoping to get his mind straight, to run through what he wants to say, to prepare himself for a variety of her potential responses, but he stops with a startle when he spies her in the office already, studying the pyramid of success on the wall. 

“Hey, Boss,” he says, quirking an eyebrow at the unexpected sight of her, hoping his voice doesn’t betray his nerves, and Rebecca jumps, swivels, and instantly beams in his direction.

“Hello, Ted,” she says warmly, but with a buzz of anticipation around her as well that he can’t quite read as well as he’d like to. “Do you know what time it is?”

“9:30? Half nine, as y’all say,” he says, affecting a British accent and her eyes narrow in fond exasperation. He’s been practicing, he told her last Wednesday night after they’d watched Pride and Prejudice, and what he lacked in skill he made up for in enthusiasm. Then she’d dropped a truly fantastic American accent on him and for the hundredth, thousandth, millionth time he wondered if she’d ever stop surprising him. He really hoped not.

“Yes, but no. This is that time of year when I come down here and reveal something to you,” she says, her voice trembling slightly, and no one else would notice it, but Ted does. 

“Hey, okay, yeah, you alright?” he asks, his own worries and thoughts melting away as he focuses on her. “Kinda feel like we know too much about each other now for anything super crazy, but lay it on me, Boss,” he says gamely, and Rebecca breathes out a hefty sigh. She clears her throat once, raises her eyes to meet Ted’s expectant ones, warm as always, inviting, patient. 

She’s about to say out loud words that have been running through her head nonstop for the past twenty four hours, but have a far longer history within her. She wants Ted to be the first to hear them because she wants Ted to be the first person to hear all of the words she has inside of her, all of the sentences and fragments that she’s kept under lock and key, hiding in the soft underbelly she protects with every fiber of her being. 

And, in the corners of her heart, in the places she doesn’t dare venture because the possibilities therein are too bright, too hopeful, she wants him to be the first person to hear them because she wants him to be a part of it, however selfish that may be. She’d never ask it of him, not now, certainly, when he’s just her friend, just the gaffer to her owner. 

Of course, Ted’s not and has never been just anything where Rebecca is concerned. He is her North Star, a constant source of light guiding her home. And, through his steadfast presence and kind words and his belief in her that she often borrows when she feels short on it, he has led her to this tipping point at which she finds herself.

“I put in applications at three different adoption agencies,” she rushes out, fingers twiddling amongst themselves. “I want a baby. I’m going to adopt a baby,” she follows up, stronger, more clear, and she’s unsurprised to feel tears prickle in her eyes as she speaks. 

Ted’s face morphs from one of slight concern to one of unbridled joy, and she can’t help but sag a little in complete relief and giddiness as the words exit her body and reach his ears.

“Rebecca,” he says softly, with so much pride in just that one word. “That’s… man, you really blew it outta the water with this one. That’s amazing, that’s… you’re gonna be a great mom,” he says sincerely, and that’s what does it, that’s what turns Rebecca’s misty eyes into faucets as she launches herself forward into Ted’s arms.

He holds her tightly, one hand splayed low on her back, inhaling her floral scent and relishing in the way her body molds against his, as if they’re two halves of a whole. They’re nearly the same height - off by just an inch or two one way or the other depending on her shoes, but she slots in against him in a way that no one else every has, as if her body is filling all the cracks and hollows left by his own.

“You really think so?” she whispers against his neck, sniffling, and he grips her arms lightly, pulling back just enough to find her eyes, clear jade focused back at him, gleeful apprehension apparent in them.

“Absolutely,” he replies, voice hushed. “Becca, I know sometimes it’s hard to get past all the junk other people have put in your head-”

“Fuck Rupert,” she mutters, and he huffs a laugh.

“Exactly. Fuck Rupert,” he parrots, earning an impressed raised eyebrow from her at the profanity. “But you’re gonna be a great mom, okay? I dunno if you know this, but I’m startin’ to consider myself kinda a Rebecca Welton expert, so I feel pretty equipped to say so,” he says conspiratorially. “And you know I wouldn’t lie to ya, right? Don’t think I even could if I wanted to, which I don’t. So you gotta believe me.”

“I do believe you,” she assures him. “I always believe you. Except when you slander tea and start talking about where Tupac’s been the past twenty years,” she amends, and Ted giggles.

“Fair, that’s fair,” he responds, and he looks so boyishly handsome and her heart aches with how thrilled he is for her, how much he clearly cares about her happiness, and thinks that it might even rival how much she cares for his, and oh maybe that means something, but maybe that’s a bit too much for right now, on the heels of this monumental decision she’s just made, to finally try for something she’s wanted for so, so long. 

[It was the day after the Man City match, when they had arrived back in Richmond, and Ted had asked her, after they’d made it off the bus and back into her office, if she fancied a stroll around the green before the rare English sun departed for the day. She’d agreed, obviously, easily, and it was a quick walk to the green, delighting in his re-telling of the most memorable moments from the match. 

There was some sort of event going on, clearly some sort of children’s carnival or field day, or something of the sort, and the green was absolutely teeming with children and families, little ones running about, shrieking with the glee of a nice spring day, teenagers kicking a ball around, attempting to look more bored than they were, parents snapping pictures and half heartedly wrangling giggling kids. 

I want that , she thought, the words hitting her forcefully, but not unfamiliar. It’s the following thought, the -  I can have that - that jolts her. She can have that. Or at the very least, she can try. She can try and Ted will be next to her, as ardent and patient and unwavering as always. 

So when she gets home that evening, after pressing an impulsive kiss to Ted’s cheek after thanking him for a lovely afternoon, after catching the slight rise of color where her lips had just been, she hesitates for only a moment before calling Keeley.

“I’m going to ask you something and I need you to not respond the way you’re going to want to respond,” she warns as soon as Keeley answers the phone with a chipper greeting.

“Okay,” Keeley draws out. “I make no promises but for you babe, I’ll try.”

“Can you please send me the list of adoption agencies you compiled earlier this year?” she asks, voice wobbling a bit before she’s able to steady it completely.

It’s silent for a beat, and then another, and then the silence is stretching on so long that Rebecca frowns. “You there?”

“Yes, sorry,” Keeley’s breathless voice comes across the line. “I needed to respond privately for a second before I could get control of myself,” she says, trying to keep her voice serious and calm, and Rebecca feels a gust of gratitude, as often she does, for the unceremonious entrance this amazing woman made into her life three years ago. 

“Yes, Rebecca, I can absolutely send that over to you,” Keeley states, business-like. “Would you also like the list of solicitors specializing in adoption I’ve compiled, as well as a curated checklist of all the extraneous paperwork needed for each application? It’s pink and purple.” 

“God, I love you,” Rebecca exhales out. “Thank you. Thank you for all of that. You didn’t have to-” she starts.

“Stop.” Keeley’s voice is stern. “It is my duty as your best friend to make sure you get all the happiness you deserve. I will do everything in my power to get you there. You think I don’t know about all the little chats you had with Roy this past year? You think I don’t know that you paid for his sessions with Sharon out of your own pocket so he’d feel guilty enough to start going? All the blouses you let me ruin? Babe, we love each other - not like that, you knob,” she directs off line, clearly at Roy, before continuing. “We love each other so we do these things for each other. It’s a two-way street, yeah? The way it should be.”

“Yes,” Rebecca replies, struck again by how lucky she is to have such wonderful people in her life, and how long she could only dream of such luck. “Yes, please send it all over. Send me anything you have, as soon as you can. Please. You’re the best.”

“I know I am,” Keeley says lightly. “And I’m still not going to say anything about it,” she says quietly. “But Rebecca? I’m right proud of you, love.”

“I’m proud of me too,” Rebecca whispers, and for the first time in a really, really long time, she actually means it.]

“Well,” she says, clearing her throat again. “If I’m half the parent you are to Henry, I’ll consider myself to be a very good one indeed,” she says truthfully, imbuing her words with as much genuineness as she possibly can, so that he can’t even think of refuting.

His mouth opens once, twice, and he swallows hard. “Thank you,” he says roughly. “Thank you.” He pulls her back in for an embrace, and without even knowing the half of it, each feels the warmth of the other’s body, as always, mitigating any sort of lingering doubt or anxiety, acting as a soothing salve to their wounded souls. 

Finally, as the sounds of players entering the locker room start to infiltrate the office and their embrace, they reluctantly pull away from each other, each wiping residual moisture from their eyes.

“Well,” Rebecca says, attempting levity. “Anything you need to get off your chest?” She smirks a bit, and Ted hesitates briefly. Because, yeah, he did have something pretty big to say, but he can’t, not after what she’s just told him. She deserves to feel the unbridled happiness that comes with making such a momentous decision, one that works to free her from all kinds of internal confines she’d felt trapped in for too long. What she doesn’t need, he thinks, is for anything to detract from this moment, for anything to distract her or steal her focus.

He was willing to lay his heart on the line for her, willing and ready and able, but now he’s realizing that at this moment, he needs to be willing to hold his heart in, no matter how difficult, and let her be. 

So it’s only a brief hesitation, then, before he gives her a grin as big as he can muster. 

“Nothin’ that comes to mind,” he replies. “Other than how much I wanna beat the pants off West Ham and ol Saggy Walnuts,” he says seriously, and Rebecca laughs loudly.

“I knew I’d regret sending you the complete list of Sassy’s names for him,” she says wryly, and Ted shrugs.

‘Hey, if the nickname fits, who am I to disagree?”

Chapter Text

In the end, it turns out they do win the whole fucking thing.

When the referee puts his mouth to the whistle after four agonizing minutes of stoppage time, and the shrill tweet sounds throughout the stadium, Rebecca is overcome with sheer pride and unbridled happiness, watching from above, tears welling in her eyes, as Ted and the coaches and all the players and all the fans jump for joy and scream and celebrate, and she’s being pulled by Keeley and Sassy, who are equally joyous, screaming in her face, and she’s screaming right back, and it’s so unbelievable, it’s so unfathomable, that three years after her illadvised and disastrous revenge plan, this team, her team, has won the whole fucking thing.

But of course they did. Because Ted said they would. And Ted has never, ever disappointed her. He’s never, ever let her down. Even at the beginning of the season when everyone predicted Richmond to go last, even a few months ago when it wasn’t impossible but certainly unlikely, even as she publicly tempered her thoughts and statements on the matter, privately, Rebecca held onto the fact that Ted said they’d win it, and so they would.

Rebecca wasn’t a believer by nature, in fact, she tended to be quite the opposite - people always disappointed you, that was the rule the universe revolved around, at least whichever universe she found herself in. Her father, the men she dated, the man she married, herself. All of those people, she’d chosen to place belief, hope, love into. And each time, she’d been found a fool. 

But then Ted had entered her life, like a fresh breeze through a stale old house, and slowly, the rules of Rebecca’s universe shifted, slowly she learned to dare to trust in belief, hope, and love again. Ted had said they would win, and therefore, Rebecca, in the deepest parts of her heart, let herself believe him.

And then they did win. And she’s not going to lie, listening to the crowd taunt and jeer at Rupert’s embarrassing spectacle of person as he exited the pitch, was just a cherry on top of the whole fucking thing. She almost felt pity for him, he who now had lost another wife, and all credibility, and most respect, and more than one football club. But then Keeley, who must’ve seen the subtle emotion on her face, tugged her elbow until Rebecca leaned her ear down.

“He dug his own grave, that one. Feel bad that he made such shit choices, but don’t feel bad that he has to face the consequences of them. He deserves it,” she had said, simply, astutely, breezily, the way Keeley often dropped her pearls of wisdom. 

And then the match had caught her attention again, and Sam had scored, and Richmond had held on, Man City had officially lost in Richmond’s second minute of stoppage meaning a Richmond win would secure the league, and the energy in the stadium was beyond anything she’d every experienced, electric and vibrating, and then it was over and everyone was yelling and Rebecca finds herself absolutely incandescent.

All she can see is Ted, being mobbed by his players, by the men - boys, really - he’s helped shape and mold into not only excellent footballers, excellent team players, but excellent human beings as well. The grin on his face is so big she can feel it herself, the one unruly bit of hair falling down into his eyes from the vigor of his celebrations. He must feel her gaze on him, somehow, from all the way up in the stands, because he turns to the crowd, finds her as if her eyes are magnetized, watches as she embraces Keeley and Higgins and Julie and Sassy, all the while her gaze remains so fondly on him.

“Come on down,” he yells into the void, and then realizing that she definitely cannot hear what he’s saying, he gestures to her. Beckons her to him, points to the pitch under his feet. And she nods once, holds up a finger as if to say, one second, and the next time Ted looks up after being clobbered by Zoreaux, everyone’s vacated the box. He looks around a bit wildly, and then he spots her, at the edge of the grass, the crowd of supporters who have rushed the pitch having parted for her, as if she’s their messiah. (And, Ted, thinks, isn’t she? She’s certainly his, his savior, the deity to whom he’s utterly devoted.)

She takes one step and then pauses, flings her fancy heels off, and starts running in earnest toward him. She stops directly in front of him, and then throws herself around him with such force he practically lifts her up, off the ground.

“You did it,” she whisper-shouts into his ear, hoping he can hear her above the continued roar of the crowd, and he can, because he sets her down gently and then corrects her.

“ We did it,” he says, giddily. “There ain’t no way I coulda done it without ya, boss,” his tone is genuine and his eyes show nothing but honesty, but Rebecca scoffs anyway. 

“Yes well, I’m so fucking proud of you,” she says, throat tight with emotion. “Fuck the haters,” she exclaims with a breathless laugh.

“Fuck the haters!” Isaac yells, having somehow appeared beside them. “That’s right, innit Boss? Fuck the haters, we’re Welton’s Boys!”

“Yeah!” The players assembled nearby pick up the chant, but the crowd must not be able to hear it exactly right, because before Ted can process what’s happening, the supporters are clapping and singing “Welton and the Wanker! Welton and the Wanker!” as affectionately as thousands of fans drunk on victory and cheap beer possibly could, pointing down at him and Rebecca. Rebecca feels like she’s dreaming, and Ted thinks she’s never looked more resplendent, blushing prettily under the fanfare.

“Well wouldja look at that,” Ted says, with wonder and a laugh in his voice. “Welton and the wanker.”

“You can’t let them keep calling you a wanker, Ted,” Rebecca says from somewhere between insulted on his behalf and hilarity, and Ted just shrugs.

“It sounds like a compliment now, don’t it? That’s not how it sounded earlier in the game when they were yellin’ it at ol’ Rupe-a-dupe,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and Rebecca begrudgingly agrees.

“Fine, but I’m going to have Keeley start a social media campaign during the off season to get you a new nickname, Coach Lasso. Or perhaps just use of your actual name.”

“You do that,” Ted says, amusedly. “But for now, there’s just one thing left to do,” he says, and she looks at him expectantly before rolling her eyes with a smirk.

“Drinks are on me!” she yells as loudly as she can, and the players and supporters and family members and press who have all joined together under the falling confetti all cheer again.

Before drinks, there’s a trophy to lift, media to deal with, champagne and beer to wash off, and a squad to be organized. So it’s nearly three hours later that they’re all finally crowded into the Crown and Anchor, which Mae had easily closed to “outsiders” for the evening after securing a promise from Keeley that all the boys would tag the pub on their instagram stories from the night. 

Spirits are impossibly high, everyone full of jubilation and awe. Rebecca’s cheeks are flushed with merriment and wide with a smile that she can’t control. Ted has just left to the bar to get another round, but he’s been sitting next to her for the better part of an hour, thigh pressed up tight against hers so that Keeley, Roy, Leslie, and Julie could all fit in the booth as well. 

The solid warmth of him was so familiar and so comforting that she couldn’t help but lean into it, and his arm had reached behind her to rest on the back of the booth, drawing her in further. Keeley had seen that move and given Rebecca a pointed look, but Rebecca had just shrugged, too full of elation to care. 

The team has already cranked through several rounds of drinks, not to mention all the beer provided by the league in the locker room after the ceremony, so the atmosphere around their cozy little booth is festive, and loud . When Ted leans in to tell her he’s heading to the bar, and does she want anything, or is she okay with whatever Keeley’s brought her, he has to get so close to her the fine hairs of his mustache tickle her cheek, and she can’t help but flutter her eyelids shut at the sensation. She nods, tries to give him an unaffected smile, but then he uses her thigh as leverage to maneuver out of his spot and she has to bite back a sigh.

She’s given up all pretense of paying attention to Keeley’s dramatic retelling of every single second of stoppage time, and instead is just staring at Ted, daydreaming in a way she rarely allows herself to do (in public, at least. At home, in the privacy of her kitchen, her den, her bed… well, her attempts at keeping him out of those places are futile at best.) He’s stripped down to just his button-up, and he looks so sweetly handsome she can hardly stand it. His cheeks are flushed with cheer and he’s relaxed, loose, no undercurrent of anxiety coursing through him tonight, she thinks, she knows.

He’s chatting happily with Mae and Baz at the bar when Sassy sidles up to him, placing a hand on his lower back that has Rebecca immediately tensing. She watches Ted turn to Sassy, give her a wide smile, and go in for a hug before she half heartedly excuses herself to the loo to gather her wits about her.

She stares at herself in the mirror, willing the anxiety and jealousy creeping up her spine to make their way back down, biting her lip to keep from letting unkind words about Sassy, about herself spill out into the echo of the washroom. She has no claim over Ted, she logically knows that, but the second Sassy’s skin touched Ted, all Rebecca could think was mine, mine, mine .

She’s taking deep breaths, reminding herself on a loop that Ted is free to do what he pleases with whom he pleases, and that she has no ownership over him, his time, his body, his heart. This is when she’s cruelest to herself, she thinks, when she’s embarrassed and feeling foolish and caught out. But all she can do, all she must do, is push the tender feelings down, away, because once they’re out, it’s impossible to collect them all again and keep them safe.

The door to the loo cracks open, and, to her surprise, Rebecca turns to find Doctor Sharon Fieldstone entering the room.

“Oh, hello Dr. Fieldstone,” she says, voice high and tight. “I’m so glad you were able to make the game. Ted was so excited you took him up on the tickets.”

“Sharon is fine,” Doctor Sharon says with her typical unnervingly demure smile. “It was a great match,” she adds, and Rebecca nods quickly.

“It was indeed,” she agrees, and then an awkward silence falls over them and Rebecca scrambles for something, anything to say because she feels about one nanosecond away from unloading every thought currently pinging around in her brain, and she simply can’t have that.

“I’m sorry about the basket of water,” is what she blurts eventually, and Sharon raises an eyebrow, bemused.

“It’s alright. Rebecca - sorry, do you mind if I call you Rebecca?” she asks easily, and Rebecca shakes her head. “Are you alright?”

“Please don’t ask me that,” Rebecca whispers, dropping her head. “Because the answer should be yes, the answer is yes, technically, but I am not alright and I - I don’t really do therapy,” she stutters out, and Sharon presses her back to the door of the bathroom, effectively preventing anyone else from joining them.

“This isn’t therapy, Rebecca. I don’t usually conduct sessions in the WC of a pub,” Sharon says wryly, and Rebecca cracks a small smile at that.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, not able to quite meet Sharon’s eyes. “For helping him. I - It’s important to me that he’s okay. And I know you have a lot to do with that, so, thank you,” she finishes, feeling exceptionally awkward, but if you can’t feel awkward in front of a therapist, when can you, Rebecca thinks with an internal eye roll.

“You know,” Sharon says, conversationally, shrugging a bit. “You have quite a lot to do with it, too, Rebecca. It’s important to me, too, that he’s okay, so I’d like to return the sentiment. Thank you,” she says gently, and Rebecca can’t help the tears prickling at the back of her eyeballs, the high tightness in her throat. 

“He’s so infuriating, isn’t he?” she asks, with a small chuckle. “Despite how hard you try, it’s impossible to feel anything other than affection for him. Bloody American folksy bullshit coming out of his ass at every turn, and it’s all so fucking genuine. It’s madness,” she says, and Sharon laughs, a true laugh, one that relaxes Rebecca’s shoulders a smidge.

“Very well put,” Sharon agrees. “Did he tell you about the time he picked me up from hospital? I was one second away from strangling him about fifty separate times. And yet,” she says, raising an eyebrow. 

The two women eye each other for a second longer, and Rebecca expects it to be uncomfortable, but Sharon’s gentle, knowing gaze provides a bit of comfort, like maybe Rebecca isn’t as alone as she feels. 

“I’m just going to-” Sharon gestures to the toilet stall behind Rebecca, who moves out of the way easily. 

“Yes, yes, of course. Sorry. See you out there,” she says, steeling herself to reenter the pub, where Sassy and Ted could be doing any number of things - or worse, could both be gone, together.

But she only is able to fret for a half a second before she’s grabbed by Sassy herself, and pulled into a dark corner.

“What the actual fuck, Stinky?” Sassy asks, her voice somehow both light and accusatory.

“Can you be more specific?” Rebecca asks, trying to ignore the wash of relief as she realizes Sassy is, in fact, not attached to Ted’s body in any way, shape, or form. 

“Yeah, I can, actually. What the hell is going on with you and Ted?” she demands, and Rebecca startles. 

“What are you on about?” she asks, hoping the tremble in her voice doesn’t belie any practiced aloofness.

“Um, first of all, every sentence out of his mouth starts with your name. He just spent a full eight minutes telling me how proud he was of you. Eight minutes and fourteen seconds, I timed it. Second of all, you guys are having weekly dates that apparently aren’t dates but very clearly are dates, according to Keeley. And , don’t think I didn’t clock the look on your face when you practically sprinted into his arms on the pitch. You two are totally shagging!” Rebecca winces at Sassy’s hushed accusations.

“It’s not-” she starts weakly, before pausing to take a breath. “We’re not- it’s-,” she stumbles, and Sassy studies her, taking in her minute expressions the way only someone who’s known you since childhood can.

“Holy fuck, Stinky,” she breathes, realization dawning on her face. “You’re not shagging him, you’re in love with him.” All Rebecca can do is nod, miserably. 

“Yes,” she confirms quietly, feeling too raw to lie. “Unfortunately, I am.”

“Unfortunately? Rebecca, that man would dick you down and wife you up in a hot second if you let him,” she says giddily, while Rebecca recoils.

“That’s - first of all, that’s - Jesus Christ , Sas, what is wrong with you? And might I remind you, you’re the one who’s sleeping with him!”

“Slept with him, Stinks. I’ve slept with him three times, two of which occurred when he was clearly mentally fragile. Now, does that make me a bit of an arsehole? Sure, but I never claimed I wasn’t. But I’m not such a humongous arse that I’d keep sleeping with him now,” she explains, and Rebecca frowns.

“Now that you know I have feelings for him?”

“Now that you know you have feelings for him, you twat,” Sassy responds, rolling her eyes. “Remember when he and I -,” she searches for a delicate phrase, “left Sam’s restaurant party together? And the next day I told you about how he asked me out, but how he definitely didn’t really mean it and was just searching for human connection and a sense of belonging?”

“Yes, your ability to gossip and psychoanalyze at the same time is quite the skill,” Rebecca says drolly.

“I will be taking that as a compliment, thank you,” Sassy says primly. “But that whole conversation between you and I, you kept asking about Ted. You kept bringing up how he was doing, how you could help, you weren’t even listening to me - which is fine, I’m used to that, but my God, it was so bloody obvious. Except I know you, so I figured you weren’t quite there yet. And it was clear Ted wasn’t in the right space, either, so I just let it be. But I did stop trying to fuck him, so you’re welcome,” she adds with a wink, and Rebecca gapes at her.

“I don’t know what to say,” Rebecca finally lets out. “You’re right, about most of it, and no, you’re not always right, shut up,” she says, preemptively. “But we’re not - they really aren’t dates, we aren’t shagging, we’re just friends. Truly, just friends,” she reiterates, halfway to herself, halfway to Sassy.

“Well why the fuck are you just friends when you could be so much more?!” she asks with exasperation, and Rebecca sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, okay, I’ll let it go for now. But Rebecca,” she says, her voice serious. “I know you’ve been force fed a lot of bullshit about your worth, about what kind of a person you are. But I’ve known you for a really long time, like a really  long time, we’re proper old now, and you are a good person who deserves good things. And I think Ted could be one of those good things, if you’d let him.” She gives Rebecca a sharp pinch in her middle and a firm slap on the back.

“Alright, you beautiful imbecile, let’s go see if we can get some sort of flaming shots,” Sassy says, pulling Rebecca (who, for her part is equally parts relieved, mortified, confused and, as always, absolutely aching for Ted) back into the crowd.

It’s close to four in the morning when Mae finally succeeds in shoving everyone out on the street, and Rebecca is tucked firmly into Ted’s side, both of them tipsy but not drunk. She’d shivered when the cool spring air had hit her skin, and Ted had instinctively pulled her into him, wishing he had a coat to drape over her shoulders. 

They’d been inseparable all evening, save the ten minutes Rebecca had disappeared when he was up getting another round for him and Roy (Beard had snuck away to a secluded corner with Ruth Bowen, eliciting a series of squeals and fluttered conversation from Rebecca and Keeley that he couldn’t quite follow.) She’d come back eventually, led by a triumphant Sassy. 

“Look who I found! Rebecca, scoot in there next to Ted, and I’ll go see about those shots,” she had winked lasciviously, and Ted had asked Rebecca if she was good, and she’d said she just needed a bit of air, and then Keeley asked them to “smush together for a quick pic,” and his hand had settled low on her hip bone as their cheeks had kissed, and he’d had to actively resist the urge to drag his thumb up and down her skin.

He’s fighting the same battle currently, holding her tightly against him under the guise of “sharing body heat” that sounded a lot dirtier coming from his mouth than he thought it was going to. But Rebecca just took it in stride, gratefully accepting his offer to see her home.

They walk the first half of the way in comfortable silence, both reveling in the events of the day and the feel of the other against them, and then Rebecca remembers.

“What time’s your flight tomorrow?” she mumbles, and he groans.

“You mean later today? Flight’s at 1, car’s comin’ at 10:30. So in about six hours,” he says ruefully. “Haven’t even packed yet. I’ve made some choices here, haven’t I?” he laughs.

“Mmm,” she hums. “Remind me why you’re on the first flight out of here, anyway?”

“Because tomorrow - real tomorrow, not today tomorrow - is the only day in the next few months that our facilitator, Michelle’s lawyer, and the super fancy lawyer you hired for me could all meet in person, and I wanna get this Henry stuff sorted as soon as possible,” he explains, and really, there was logic to the decision, even if it feels like a big bummer right now, especially with Rebecca’s arm wrapped around him and her legs brushing against his. 

“And how long will you be gone?”

“Coupla weeks. Gonna get everything sorted, see Henry finish out his baseball season and school year, and then he and I will be headed right back home,” he says, and at that word she sinks further into the sort of exhausted happiness that’s been hounding her the entire walk.

“I’m going to miss our Wednesdays,” she says, because she’s tipsy, because it’s true, because it’s Ted.

“You kiddin’ me? I’m gonna miss you every day of the week,” he lets out, inhibitions lowered by the hour and the booze and Rebecca’s sweet rosy cheeks.

“That’s very sweet,” she murmurs, turning to face him, and it’s then that he realizes they’ve reached her house, and the sense of preemptive loss he feels hits him hard in the gut.

“Maybe we could - could I call you? When I’m there?” he asks, feeling a blush rise on his chest, but it’s for naught because she beams at him immediately.

“You better,” she tells him, impulsively leaning up and placing a not-so-quick press of her mouth to his cheekbone, just above his dimple. She drags her lips down slightly as she pulls away, and Ted’s not sure if it’s intentional or not, but either way, he’s primed for a heart attack by the time her emerald eyes meet his again. 

He watches her give him a shy smile, ducking her head, then turning and heading into her home. He makes sure she gets through the door, and right before she closes it, she pokes her head out again, a silly, beaming smile on her face.

“Hey Ted?”

“Hey Becca?”

“We won the whole fucking thing,” she stage whispers, as if it’s a secret, and then lets out a giggle that lights his soul right up. It’s a sound he wants to hear every day, every season, every year for the rest of his life. It’s a sound of promise, and hope, vulnerability and contentment, and it’s a sound so purely Rebecca he knows the cadence of it will be embedded in his brain forever.

“We sure did, Boss. We sure did.”

Chapter Text

If you need a pep talk before your meeting, I’m no Ted Lasso but I can give it a go. 💜 

Rebecca cringes as she hits send on the text she’s been drafting for upwards of an hour. It’s two in the afternoon, the club is fairly empty as it’s the offseason, mostly just the accounting team and various physio staff roaming the halls. Higgins has jetted off to the south of France with Julie (Rebecca paid to upgrade their flights and hotel room, and Julie had sent her a lovely if slightly befuddling text wishing her the utmost heart health and plenty of thanks) Keeley and Roy have also taken a few days away to visit Keeley’s mum, and Ted of course is in Kansas, and Rebecca’s lonely.

Well, not lonely. She knows loneliness, she knows it acutely. She’s felt it in her bones, in her heart, in her soul. Loneliness, as ironic as it is, was her most loyal companion for many years. Now, however, she’s not truly lonely - even with her closest friends and loved ones all several hours away at best - she doesn’t feel the soul crushing despair of feeling, of knowing , that no one in the world is thinking of you.

So Rebecca, in truth, is bored. And worried. Today is the day that Ted meets with the mediator, his lawyer, and Michelle and her lawyer. She wants it to work out in his favor so badly, she doesn’t think she’s wanted anything for herself half as much as this for him. She hates the feeling of helplessness that comes over here when she thinks about Ted being in that room, not alone but alone. She knows Michelle’s not a monster (the shagging of the therapist of it all aside) and she herself has hired Ted the finest custody lawyer in the United States, had her flown in from Boston for the week, over Ted’s protests that it was far too much money and that he was fine with his old high school buddy Dave.

“Ted, I’m not meant to say I’m filthy rich because Keeley says it’s tacky, but I am outrageously, absurdly, filthy fucking rich and I will spend my money as I please. Dave might be a fine solicitor - lawyer - whatever the fuck, but Susan Livingston is the absolute best in the business, and that is what you and Henry deserve,” she’d lectured him, and Ted had eventually conceded, thanking her profusely and promising he’d call this Susan to get on the same page just as soon as he got back to his flat. She’d emailed Susan as well, reminding her that Ted wasn’t out for blood, just equity, and to be clear but gentle with him as she laid out his options. She also made it known to both Ted and Susan that Richmond, the club, could work around any arrangement made. So she feels reasonably confident that all should go fine, if not well.

But Ted’s happiness is paramount to her, and so she worries. She frets, she bites her lips. And eventually, when she can bear it no longer, she texts.

It’s hardly two minutes later that her phone is ringing with an incoming FaceTime call that she almost loses in her haste to answer.

“Becca!” comes down the line as Henry’s gap-toothed smile appears on her phone, and Rebecca can’t help the grin that overtakes her own face.

“Hello, Henry!” she greets him with enthusiasm. “How are you? Ready for the last week of school?”

“Yeah! And then we have our last baseball game next weekend and then Dad and I are coming over to you! I wanna see the mummies at that museum again, and I wanna go back to the place with the ravens where everybody got their heads chopped off, can we do that? And Dad said that we have to ask you when the best day for Abbey Road is, so can you check your calendar, please?” he hardly takes a breath while he’s talking, and Rebecca chuckles as Ted enters the frame.

Her face softens further at the sight of his, he has a bit of stubble on his cheeks, and his eyes are bright in the presence of his son, and it’s only been about forty eight hours but she misses him, deeply. Like a phantom limb or her wrist without the weight of a watch, it makes her feel completely off-kilter, the way she aches with it. 

“Whoa buddy, slow down for a sec,” he says with a smile. “Hiya, Boss.”

“Hi Ted,” she greets him fondly, before turning her attention back to Henry, who’s looking at her, quiet but with expectation.

“I promise you that I will check my calendar and clear a day for Abbey Road by the end of today,” she begins. “I will also make sure to get tickets for you two for the British Museum and the Tower of London - where the mummies and ravens are, respectively,” she provides, and Henry cheers.

“Three tickets, though, Becca! You gotta come, too,” he clarifies, and Rebecca feels her heart clench (an ocean and a phone screen away, Ted’s does the same.)

“That’s very kind of you, Henry. I’ll see what I can do,” she tells him, and she means it. The offseason isn’t quite as calm for her as it is for the team, she has contacts to review and renew, sponsors to attract, rosters to sift through and players to scout, but she can’t deny that the thought of spending quality time ambling around the city with Ted and his son, this sweet, affable lovely little boy, is one of the more enticing offers she’s had in her life. 

“Hey Hen, can you go grab a couple books and toys and stuff for your backpack? Remember you’re gonna hang out at Aunt Melissa’s while your mom and I are meetin’,” he reminds his son, and Henry nods.

“I remember. Becca, did you know Dad and mom are gonna figure out how I can be in Richmond more? That means I’ll get to see you so much more!” he beams, then waves and hops down the hallway. Ted watches him go, then refocuses his attention on Rebecca, his bemused grin shifting into a more tender, shy smile as he takes her in.

“You look beautiful,” he blurts, because he’s still a little jetlagged, and because it’s true, and he’s delighted by the pretty blush that climbs up her face.

“Thank you, Ted. I like the scruff,” she deflects, motioning to his cheeks, and it’s his turn to redden slightly.

“Yeah, that’s called laziness,” he laughs. “I forgot that Henry wakes up at o’dark-hundred in the mornin’ - not that I’m complainin’ - so I didn’t have time to get all gussied up like normal since Michelle let me pick him up last night.”

“Well it suits you,” she says sweetly, and it’s silent for a beat or two as they stare into each other’s eyes, so besotted, the both of them, and equally as oblivious. 

“So how’re you feeling about the meeting?” she prompts finally, and he nods.

“Yeah, yeah, ya know, I met with Susan yesterday, you’re right, she’s fantastic, and I feel pretty good. Talked with Michelle an’ Henry a bit yesterday about it all, and I think it’ll be okay, I really do,” he says genuinely.

[In fact, Henry’s exact words when Ted asked, “Henry, I want to spend more time in person with you. Would you like to spend more time in Richmond? Or would you rather I spent more time in Kansas? Whatever you want is okay, buddy, I want you to be honest,” had been a perplexed, “Dad, why would you spend more time in Kansas?”

He and Michelle had looked at each other, and Ted had frowned a bit. “Because you live here? And I love you? Because you’re here,” he clarified.

“Yeah, duh, dad, I love you too, but you live in Richmond. Wait, you mean I can go to England more? Like all the time?” his voice was excited, and Michelle halted him gently.

“Not all the time, Henry, because I’d miss you too much, but your dad and I think we can come up with a way to make it a little bit more equal between here and there, if you’d like that,” she explained, and Ted was grateful that her voice held no tension or bitterness.

“I’d like that!” Henry exclaimed immediately, and Ted had felt like his heart was being lifted by balloons, like maybe all his daydreams of him together with Henry and Rebecca, the two most important people in his life, in Richmond, wasn't just some crazy notion, but in fact could be a reality.]

“Well then I suppose you’re not in need of a pep talk after all,” Rebecca mentions, and Ted shrugs.

“Guess not, but I’m never gonna say no to seein’ your face,” he admits  (again with the jetlag and the Rebecca of it all) and Rebecca grins.

“Likewise. Alright, I suppose I ought to sort through these sponsor agreements now. Update me after?” she asks.

“You know it,” Ted promises. “Hey, Rebecca. Thanks for checkin’ in on me. ‘Ppreciate you.”

“‘Preciate you,” she returns, smirking as she signs off at the incredulous look on Ted’s face at her pitch perfect mimicry.

Rebecca jolts awake suddenly, whipping her head back and forth as she tries to figure out what’s roused her so immediately while still being fairly asleep. Eventually, she realizes her phone is ringing on the nightstand by her side, and she eyes it suspiciously for a second before realizing that if someone is calling her at half two in the morning, it’s probably for a good reason.

She scrambles out from under the covers and reaches for the phone, fumbling it for a second in her half-awake state before blinking a few times as the name settles on the screen. 

“Ted? Ted, are you alright?” she asks breathlessly, stifling a yawn and trying to will her mind to wake up faster.

“Oh my god, Rebecca, I’m so sorry,” Ted’s voice comes down the line, and he doesn’t sound as if he’s in mortal peril, so Rebecca relaxes slightly. “I wanted to tell ya all about the meeting but then Henry wanted to go out for burgers and then it was time for him to head to bed and I was just so dang excited to talk to ya that I forgot all about time zones,” he explains, breathlessly and apologetically, and Rebecca stifles another yawn as she tries to catch up. The thought of him being so excited to call her certainly helps soothe the unexpected wake up. In truth, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep - she’d been anticipating his call, but the reports she’d been pouring over while she waited clearly hadn’t held her interest and were currently scattered about the bed.

“It’s alright, Ted. I’m awake now, so spill,” she demands, anxiously, as if her own fate and happiness depend on this (she’s fairly sure they do.)

“You sure you don’t want me to call back at a more respectable time?” He asks, still sounding very chagrined, but Rebecca shakes her head before realizing he can’t see her.

“No, no. I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now, anyway, I’d just be wondering.”

“Well, you are lookin’ - well, talkin’, I guess, to a dad who gets 26 weeks a year with his kiddo,” he begins, giddily, and Rebecca gasps.

“Oh Ted, that’s wonderful ,” she breathes. “That’s practically half the year!”

“It is in fact exactly half the year, Boss,” he corrects with amusement.

“Shut it you, it’s the middle of the night,” she grumbles. “Oh, I’m so pleased Ted, I’m so so happy for you and Henry.” He can hear the sincerity in her still sleepy voice, and it makes every tough conversation and every doubt and every fear worth it tenfold, to hear that, to know that someone is truly happy for him, with him. “So what’s the actual plan?”

“Plahhhn,” he mocks, still riding giddy high on the events of the day. “Well, so, I’ll be comin’ out to Kansas during our international break in February, and I’ll be here for three weeks, so I’ll just miss one match. Then I’ll bring Henry back with me to Richmond for three weeks in March, overlappin’ his spring break. 

Then I’ll come back to Kansas after the season, spend June here, and bring Henry back with me for the rest of the summer, til school starts. Then he’ll come over for all of November and December, except on opposite years he’ll head back to Kansas just before Christmas to spend the holiday with Michelle,” he explains in a rush, breathless with delight and mind racing ahead, filling with visions of Henry strolling through the streets of Richmond like a local, with Beard at Nando’s after a kickabout on the green, nestled between him and Rebecca on her big old comfy couch, watching Bake Off. He feels, finally, like this the life he’s meant to have, that as unbelievable as it is, it maybe is possible to have all the pieces of his heart in one place. 

And it’s because of Rebecca. Because she didn’t give up on him, because she made sure that he knew that what he wanted mattered, too. Because she went through his options with him, vowed to make any and every one work so that he could be the best version of himself. Because she believed in him, steadfastly and without reservation. And, not least because she paid an exorbitant amount of money, not only to hire the best custody lawyer in the western hemisphere, but also , as he’d learned earlier that day, because she’d given a sizeable donation to the Kansas City Public School District’s E-Learning program, enabling kids to access their classrooms and materials when unable to physically attend the school, like, per se, if they happened to be in a different continent half the year.

[“So, she’s your sugar mama,” Beard says with complete seriousness when Ted tells him what she’s done. Ted balks at the notion for a full minute before he concedes upon realizing there are far worse fates.]

When he brings this up to her, to thank her again, to express how thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it, Rebecca just shrugs.

“I think you’ll find there’s not a lot I wouldn’t do to make you happy, Ted Lasso. Spending money is one of the easier ones,” her tone is blithe, but her words are not, and Ted wishes more than anything he was there in person with her, to give her the biggest hug he could muster, to imprint his gratitude and relief and happiness upon her body.

Rebecca wants to keep chatting, but Ted’s adamant that she go back to bed, and he’ll call her the next day. Their shared relief is palpable over the screen, and it’s that relief combined with the lingering image of Ted’s scruffed, elated face, that lulls Rebecca back to sleep.

The next week, Ted’s busy with a variety of end-of-school events for Henry, Rebecca’s busy with various sponsor meetings and end of quarter reports, and they have to settle for texting at odd hours, random asides and pictures (from Ted, mostly, but Rebecca sends a selfie of herself in her back garden, sun shining brightly on her, and Ted swears he stops breathing for several minutes when he receives it, because she’s so beautiful, so ethereal, just lightness personified, and he’s utterly transfixed by her. He doesn’t know, either, that Rebecca had spent a similar amount of time staring at the picture he’d sent of himself and Henry at a Royals game, Ted in a backwards hat and scruffy face and wide grin, tracing every pixel of his face with her eyes and heart.)

They manage a few phone calls, and whether it’s the distance between them or the lingering glee of the new custody situation, or maybe just because they’re both absolutely in love with the other and it’s reaching a tension point there’s no turning back from, or honestly maybe because it's been their dynamic for far long than either of them could even remember or admit, their friendly banter veers into the territory of “maybe flirting” more often than not, though it takes both of them a bit to catch on that that’s what’s actually happening.

[It’s actually Keeley who names it, for Rebecca, when Rebecca hands Keeley her phone to show her a picture of Ted and Henry at Henry’s end of year picnic, and Keeley scrolls and speed-reads through their texts before Rebecca’s able to snatch it away.

“Just like we talked about earlier, winky face? With that GIF? Rebecca, what the bloody fuck is this!” Keeley practically yells, and under the gentle duress of Keeley’s insistent probing, Rebecca spills details about their conversations and quotes verbatim some of the sweet things Ted’s let loose over the phone. 

“Babe, that is like, A levels flirting! From Ted! Our Ted! Will you now please believe me when I tell you he is absolutely in as deep as you are?!”

“I don’t know about that,” Rebecca scoffs, but privately this is something she’s been spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about. These weeks with Ted, being apart but remaining in constant contact, the lovely things he’s been saying, the bashful way he responds to some of the vaguely saccharine things she volleys back at him, it all does feel like it’s adding up to something, like it almost could be the thing that she desperately wants it to be.]

Finally, after almost three full days of missing each other with ill-timed calls,  Rebecca waits until she’s sure Henry’s away (baseball team sleepover to celebrate the end of season, according to one of the texts she receives) and gives Ted a ring. She’d thought about FaceTiming him, but she’s in bed, and while she’s happy to be more direct about her feelings, she’s not quite sure that is the message she’s ready to send, so a phone call will have to suffice.

He answers immediately, as if he’d just been waiting for her, and her heart flutters in an almost embarrassing way when she hears the sound of his voice, greeting her sweetly.

“Hey, fancy seein’ you here, pretty lady,” he jokes, and she can hear the grin in his voice.

“Hello, Ted,” she replies. “I miss you,” she says, bluntly and with a bit of petulance that she can’t quite hide. “I miss my biscuits.”

“Well, at least it’s me then the biscuits, I suppose,” he laughs, and he can practically hear her roll her eyes in fondness. “Though I’m sure it’s a pretty tight race.”

“It is indeed,” she teases. “Depends on the day, honestly. But today, you’re first, because I actually have a favor,” she says, biting her lip. It’s not actually a huge favor in terms of effort on Ted’s part, not really, in the grand scheme of things, but it is a favor that is extremely important to her, that matters to her on a level so personal it feels sacred, so she hesitates.

“Coupon for life, Boss. This one and any others,” he reminds her gently, sensing her reticence. 

“I’ve sent my preliminary applications to the adoption agencies, as you know,” she begins. “And I’ve scheduled a home visit, in a few weeks, and filled out all the financial paperwork and all of that,” she tells him. “But they also require some personal letters of recommendation, as it were. From people in your life who, you know, can say that you’ll be a fit parent,” she stutters out. 

“Sure, makes sense,” Ted says amiably, giving her time and space to push forward.

“Would you - I mean, if you can’t, that’s just fine, but I thought - I think you might know me better than anyone,” she admits quietly. “And I was hoping you’d consider writing one of them.”

“Rebecca,” he breathes. “It’d be my honor, truly,” he says. “I’d be mad if ya didn’t ask me. When do you need it by?”

“Just when you’re back is fine. I’ll send you the criteria. It doesn’t have to be much, just a page or so. Or less, even,” she says, but Ted laughs.

“You ever known me to be brief?” He asks, and she can practically see the twinkle in his eye. “I’m gonna be singin’ your praises for twenty seven pages, single spaced, little lady,” he tells her, and like with everything else he says that seems exaggerated and unbelievable, she knows the sentiment is genuine, that he would fill that many pages with kind words.

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

“Hey, I have a thought,” Ted whispers back. “What if you and I stopped thankin’ each other and just accepted that we’re always gonna be there for each other, for anything, big or small?”

“Not a bad idea.”

“I was due,” Ted jests, and then they fall into easy conversation - there’s not much new for either to report, because despite what it feels like, they amount of texting they’ve been doing, even at odd-hours, has kept them fairly well connected to each other, but they still manage to pass an hour in the blink of an eye, until Rebecca’s yawns become more and more frequent, and Ted laughs as his heart clenches at how adorable she sounds.

“Alright, sleeping beauty. I’m gonna letcha go, but talk tomorrow? And then I hope you’re ready for Hurricane Henry in two days, because boy oh boy is that kid excited to see you,” he says with a knowing grin and raised eyebrows, and Rebecca’s insides melt a bit further, as she imagines the adventures she’s certain to have with the Lasso boys.

“Just Henry?” She drops her voice and asks coyly, and a bit more boldly than she’d originally intended, but if she’s discovered anything these past weeks it’s that she loves the little bit of pink Ted turns when she leans into the flirting and she’s not disappointed here.

“No ma’am,” he replies earnestly. “Most emphatically not just Henry. Hang on - can you -,” she hears fumbling for a moment before her phone is chirping at her, Ted’s goofy visage popping up as the FaceTime request comes through.

“There you are,” he says, his voice full of affection, and she can’t help the dopey smile that graces her face.

“Hi,” she lets out on an exhale, barely audible, but he hears it, his dimple pops out like it does when he’s delighted, and just the fact that it’s just her, just Rebecca in her regular pajamas and fresh face and hair pulled into an untidy bun, just the fact that nothing more than her presence pulls that kind of delight from him, astounds her and calms her in equal measure.

“In case I wasn’t clear, because ya know, we do have a language barrier goin’ on here, our Englishes are very different, I for one am very excited to see you. Like, on a scale of one to one hundred, I’m at a solid one-oh-one,” he says conspiratorially, like he’s telling her a secret, and maybe he is, maybe he is.

“That’s - that’s very good to hear,” Rebecca says, flushing.

“Not too much?” he confirms, a sliver of vulnerability shining through, and Rebecca shakes her head vehemently.

“Never.”

Chapter Text

When Rebecca opens the door, smile etched on her face from where it’s sat since she woke up this morning, she expects to see Ted’s face, she’s pictured it a dozen times today alone, the slight scruff hopefully lingering, his bright eyes, his easy dimple, his laugh lines. And she does see him, he’s there, stood a bit back from the door, eyes tired but bright, but her attention is stolen by a clumsy pair of arms wrapping around her midsection.

“Becca!” Henry greets, squeezing her tightly. “I’m here!” She inhales deeply, surprised and completely moved by this outward show of affection; it must be as clear to Henry Lasso as it was to his father upon first glance just how touch-starved she’s been for so long, because from the get-go they’ve been in her space, keeping her grounded.

“Henry,” she greets warmly, bending down to wrap him in a proper hug. “It’s so lovely you’re here,” she whispers in his ear, and he nods against her shoulder. It’s only the third time they’ve been around each other in person, but the past several months of regular FaceTime interactions have certainly created a camaraderie that Rebecca’s glad to know translates to real life as well. 

“Dad said that you helped him and even mom a lot when they were trying to make it fair for everybody and me. You’re the best,” he says emphatically, and oh, that does things to Rebecca’s chest, and Ted’s too, if the look on his face is any indication.

He’s looking at them with adoration, she realizes. And it’s not just focused on Henry, it’s on them , the pair of them, the two of them together, on her as much as it is on his son. 

“Wow, Becca, your house is huge!” Henry exclaims, finally looking past her into her home. He pushes off from her and darts inside, ignoring Ted’s halfhearted attempt to stop him.

“Shoes off, at least!” Ted calls, shaking his head affectionately before he settles his eyes on her.

“Hi,” he says shyly, stepping forward, fidgeting with his hands slightly, and it’s Rebecca who takes pity on him and wrenches him in for a tight hug.

“Hi yourself,” she murmurs back. “I’ve missed you quite a bit, you know,” she admits, and she can feel his grin stretch near her own cheek.

He inhales deeply, breathing her in, a feeling of serenity and rightfulness permeating his senses, and squeezes her just that bit tighter.

“Oh darlin’, I’ve missed you somethin’ fierce,” he says, and it’s the pet name, sweet as honey from his mouth, that unlocks another fragmented piece of her heart. She’s about to respond, mouth moving faster than mind, surely, when Henry’s delighted, 

“Dad! Did you know Rebecca has four ovens and five TVs?!” reaches them, and Ted chuckles as he reluctantly pulls away. 

“Sorry, I guess I shoulda checked in first, do you mind some company this afternoon? Just kinda autopilot’ed us over here, but we can skeddadle if ya want,” he tells her, a bit sheepish. Really, there’d been no other option in his mind than to immediately head to Rebecca’s after dropping their luggage at his flat, and Henry’s eager acceptance and excitement had only solidified the matter. 

“Don’t you dare leave,” she warns him, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him into the house behind her. “I’ve only just got you back,” she says softly. Then she turns to him with a wicked grin. 

“What do you think Henry’s going to say when he finds out there’s a telly in the master loo?”

The afternoon melts into evening which morphs into nighttime, and both Lasso boys are yawning every other second when Rebecca finally takes charge and orders them home. She’s loath to do it; it’s been the loveliest, homiest evening she can honestly ever remember. Henry’s a true joy, she knew this in abstract, but having him in her home, listening to his idle chatter, watching him and Ted make a list of all the places they want to go before the season starts (Rebecca chiming in occasionally with ideas or information, Ted looking at her as if she’d hung the moon every time), inviting him to help her cook (nothing fancy, just cheese toasties and some brownies from a box she’d picked up at the store because it looked vaguely American and Ted was in America and it seemed rational in the way lovesick actions often do) - it’s just been a dream come true, honestly, to have her home filled with such infectious cheer and sweetness. 

And of course, there’s the Ted of it all. Ted, who is giving her the softest looks as he watches her instruct Henry with the knife. Ted, who’s patiently and subtly interjecting much needed context into many of Henry’s meandering stories. Ted, who keeps touching her - his hand brushing her lower back as he moves past her to direct Henry, a nudge of his shoulder onto hers when he compliments the brownies. A gentle brush of his knuckles over her knee when he gets up from the table, a thumb wandering over her wrist when they’re settled on the couch looking at pictures of their Kansas adventures on Ted’s phone. 

The air is charged around them, something clearly brewing that neither of them are able or willing to name, certainly not with Henry between them, but it’s so absolutely crystalline clear that whatever undercurrent has been flowing through  has turned into a tide, and it’s on course to sweep them both off their feet. 

But they’re exhausted, she can tell, and this, whatever it is, will keep, she’s sure of it. So she bids them farewell, pressing a kiss to Henry’s forehead, sweeping his hair out of the way, when he hugs her goodbye, and pressing an even softer one, one both tentative and full of purpose, smack dab on Ted’s ever present dimple, watching them wistfully head back home, heart full and head clear, for the first time in what seems like forever.

It’s inevitable, she realizes, her and Ted. She couldn’t stop it if she tried. 

The next morning, Henry tags along to Biscuits with the Boss - Ted’s just in for a half day to go over some prospects with Beard and Roy, and he’d let Henry do the honors, the young boy handing the pale pink box to her with an air of formality and she’d smiled brightly at him, thanking him profusely. 

“I helped make ‘em! Dad let me do all the measuring,” he tells her proudly, and Rebecca makes sure to let him know he’s done perfectly once she’s taken her first bite. Ted also hands her an envelope with the letter of recommendation for the adoption agency she’d asked him to write; Rebecca hopes he can feel her genuine thanks and appreciation in the gentle squeeze she gives his wrist as she takes it from him. 

“Thank you, again, Ted,” she says warmly, but he just waves it off. 

“What did you and I say about thank yous, huh?” he teases lightly, and she concedes with a shrug. “Plus, ya know, they said to keep it to a page, so it was a pretty easy assignment, all things considered. Nothin’ as bad as that philosophy class Beard made me take sophomore year,” he shudders, and Rebecca, sensing a diversion, stops him with a gentle hand to his forearm. 

“Yeah, yeah nevermind, okay. Hey actually though, Boss, can I ask you a quick favor?” Ted says, nodding away from where Henry had migrated to the windows. “You can totally say no and I won’t hold it against ya - it’s just, Beard called an emergency meeting of the Diamond Dogs - I guess Jane showed up to his date with Ms. Bowen? And made a big ol’ scene and God, you know I don’t like to get involved in other people’s romances, but yeesh - and I don’t really want Henry to be there for the discussion, ‘cause, ya know, Beard’s personal life is a little…spicy, and the boys aren’t in for training yet, and-”

“Ted,” Rebecca interrupts, having surmised where this particular ramble was headed. “If you’d like to leave Henry up with me for a bit, that’s completely fine.”

“Thanks, Becca, I really ‘ppreciate it,” he deflates gratefully. He was pleased as punch when I said we’d see if he could hang with you. Said he’d even do his summer reading without being asked if I didn’t make him stay with Higgins instead.” he tells her, then frowns. “Don’t tell Higgins that.” 

“I won’t,” Rebecca promises. “He’d really like to spend time up here with me?”

“Yeah, Boss, I dunno if you’ve noticed but he pretty much thinks you’re the bees knees. Takes after his dad that way,” he murmurs quietly, and Rebecca’s cheeks pink easily, a now regular occurrence in Ted’s company.

“You’re very sweet, both of you,” she replies delicately, and he gives her a dimpled grin before turning his attention back to Henry.

“Okay bud, you’ve got your backpack with your books and markers and iPad, and I’ll come back and grab ya in a couple hours, okay? Make sure you’re bein’ respectful of Rebecca - she’s at work, alright?”

“I’ll be great, dad, I promise,” Henry says easily. “Hey Becca, this is a super cool view. Do you just sit here and watch Jamie Tartt be awesome all day?” Rebecca snorts at that, and Ted flashes them both a wave as he heads out the door. 

“Not all day,” Rebecca answers with a chuckle. “Henry, I’ve got a few emails to send off, but you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable on the couch and then, don’t tell your dad, but I’m going to be all done working for the day, and I’ve got some new Lego sets delivered,” she whispers conspiratorially, gesturing to a previous unseen pile in the corner of her office, and Henry’s eyes light up. (“You know you don’t need to bribe him to like you, Rebecca, he’s Ted’s son, it practically hardwired into his DNA to be obsessed with you,” Keeley had teased her upon seeing the haul.)

“Okay!” he says enthusiastically. “I’ll draw you a picture for your office while you do your stinky emails,” he giggles, and sets out to do just that. 

Down in the coach’s office, Ted feels reasonably confident that Beard and Ms. Bowen - who’s name is Ruth, he’s just learned - are gonna be okay, but Roy’s still threatening to end Jane once and for all, and Beard’s trying to work out if his “sorry my ex is a stalker nutjob” gift should be a weekend away or if that’s a step too far (“I dunno, I think gettin’ out of town might actually help the stalker nutjob situation, Beardo,” Ted had contributed helpfully.) But Ted’s mind is a mile away, or rather, several flights of stairs away, as it always is, with Rebecca.

“Hey fellas?” he breaks through between Roy’s increasingly creative threats to Jane’s livelihood that Beard is luckily dismissing. “I think Rebecca and I have been flirtin’,” he admits, and is rewarded with two nonplussed faces.

“Yeah, no fucking shit,” Roy says, as if Ted’s just said that the sky is blue or London is rainy or West Ham can suck it. 

“Ted,” Beard says, voice light with amusement. “You and Rebecca have been climbing the ladder from sporadic and light flirting to full fledged love declarations for like, the past three years,” he tells him, raising an eyebrow, and Ted drops his head to his desk.

“Okay, I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’ve been flirtin’ with her, and I’m pretty sure she’s flirting back ,” he explains, which does nothing to change the looks of condescending pity on his friends faces.

“Are you fucking joking?” Roy asks flatly. “You’re in love with each other, I don’t know how any of us could be fucking clearer about it. Do you want us to hire a fucking skywriter?”

“You know a skywriter?” Ted deflects ineffectively, and Beard throws a wadded up piece of paper at him.

“Talk. To. Her,” he says, each word punctuated with another wad of paper. “Now, should we do a daytrip to Canterbury or an overnight to Bournemouth?”

“Hiya, babes!” Keeley enters Rebecca’s office to find the adorable sight of Rebecca and Henry, hunched together over the coffee table, fiddling with bits of Lego, shoes kicked off to the sides, empty packets of crisps on the couch next to them. 

“Henry, do you remember Keeley?” Rebecca asks the boy, who nods. 

“Hi, Keeley,” he says politely, making sure to look up like his dad taught him. 

“Hey, Henry,” Keeley says, grinning. “Remember Phoebe? She’s wondering if you’d want to come round this weekend and play? She’s got FIFA on the PS4 and a big pop up goal for the garden,” she shares, and Henry agrees enthusiastically.

“Alright, well I really just popped by to give you this,” Keeley says, handing Rebecca the second manila envelope of her day. “I tried to keep the curse words to a minimum, but I did have to include how bloody fit you’d be as a mum, so,” Keeley ribs her gently, and Rebecca rolls her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says, grabbing the envelope and placing it on top of Ted’s on her desk, which Keeley notes with interest.

“Oh, is that Ted’s?” she asks, eyeing it eagerly. 

“Yes,” Rebecca responds. “And Leslie brought the one from him and Julie yesterday, so all set,” she says with a tremulous smile. 

“What does it say?” Keeley’s eyes are practically bugging out of her head. “Is it just like an eleven page love letter?” 

“Keeley!” Rebecca hisses, nodding at Henry who is luckily fully engaged in his Lego creation. “First of all, you know as well as anyone they’re only supposed to be a page. Secondly, would you please refrain from talking about Ted like that in front of his son?”

“Sorry,” Keeley lowers her voice. “But you’ve read it, yeah?”

“I have not,” Rebecca responds primly. “I don’t intend to.” It’s the scariest thing she can imagine, reading whatever Ted has said about her, knowing that he’s nothing if not genuine, that whatever he’s put to paper are his true thoughts on her, her character, her heart. 

Keeley, for her part, is nothing if not spry, even in sky high heels, and she has Ted’s letter in her hands before Rebecca has even realized what’s happened. 

“Keeley!” she hisses again, but Keeley just dances around to the other side of the desk as she begins to open the envelope. 

“Look, if you really don’t want me to, I won’t. But don’t you want to know?” she asks, searching Rebecca’s face. And yes, more than anything Rebecca wants to know, so she takes a swallow and shrugs.

“Go ahead,” she says, resigned, hopeful, terrified. 

Keeley’s eyes skim over the letter at lightning speed, Rebecca’s not sure how she’s actually reading anything. Instead of trying to dissect any of Keeley’s expressions, Rebecca turns back to Henry, attempting to make some conversation that Henry responds to gamely but quickly,  clearly busy with the Legos. 

‘Babe,” Keeley breathes from where she’s appeared next to Rebecca’s elbow. “You need to read this,” she says, gently pushing the paper into Rebecca’s hands.

“Keeley, I-,” Rebecca begins to protest, but Keeley fixes her with a look.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Rebecca whispers. 

“Read it,” Keeley says, offering her a knowing smile and a raised eyebrow. “Just read it.”

Rebecca’s hands tremble and her heart begins to beat frantically as she raises the paper to her line of sight. 

To Whom It May Concern,

Many people know of Rebecca Welton. She’s a public figure, the owner of AFC Richmond, and your news publications over here sure do love printing stories about her, whether they’re true or not. But I’m one of the lucky ducks who actually gets to truly know Rebecca, and therefore I feel very confident in saying that I can’t think of a person more suited to be a parent than Rebecca.

Rebecca is loving. She is bright, and warm, and kind. Her friendship, her love, one hug from her, one reassuring word, feels like warm sunshine after the longest record on winter. It feels like it can heal souls. It certainly helped heal mine. She would pour so much love and light on a child, it couldn’t do anything but grow and thrive. 

To watch Rebecca love is a marvel. Her love isn’t one size fits all, she doesn’t love just one way. No, Rebecca’s heart is so generous and so full, that she loves each person exactly as they should be loved, exactly as they need to be loved. She’s brilliant, smartest person I know hands down, and she uses that brilliance to figure out just how to make her love  perfect for the other person. And she does this all despite the fact that for years, no one did it for her. That’s how selfless she is. That’s how brave her heart is.

Rebecca is strong. She’s fierce, and tenacious, never going down without a fight. Even when she’s crumbling inside, she stands tall in the face of any adversity, using herself as a shield to keep others safe from any harm. Rebecca is loyal and deeply protective. She will go to the ends of the earth for the people she loves, and will do it without thinking and without hesitation. She’s a lioness protecting her herd. If any one threatens someone she loves, well, boy, I fear for that person. 

A lot of times people think that strength equals coldness, or iciness, or any other number of other words that essentially mean “mean.” But that’s not Rebecca, not at all. Her strength is like a cozy blanket, providing refuge from any storm, metaphorical or otherwise. It’s kept my hide safe on more than one occasion, I’ll tell you that. 

Rebecca is sunshine. She’s a North Star, a guiding light, a beacon of joy and hope and courage. She would be an exceptional parent, because she is an exceptional person, an exceptional friend, an exceptional force of nature. She’s the best person I know. 

No one deserves a child - they aren’t objects to be earned or prizes to be awarded. But there is a child out there who deserves to feel the richness, deepness, and vastness of Rebecca’s love, the sureness and beauty of her heart, and I can’t wait to watch their journey together unfold. 

Sincerely,

Ted Lasso

PS - my seven year old son Henry would like to add his thoughts. 

Rebecca would be a really good mom. She lets me help make cheese toasties and she lets me use the sharp knife but she showed me how to be safe. She does a good job at all the voices when we read together on FaceTime. And she sings really good songs and she gives really good hugs even though she’s super tall. Rebecca is so awesome!

“Ted,” Rebecca whispers, eyes brimming with tears as she clutches the paper to her chest. “Oh, Ted.”

“Told ya so,” Keeley states softly, giving Rebecca’s arm a squeeze. “Babe, that… that sure is something,” she says, pointing at the letter, and Rebecca laughs wetly. 

“It sure is,” she says under her breath, then takes a deep, steeling breath. “Shit, okay. Keeley, would you mind keeping Henry company for a bit?” she asks, wiping under her eyes carefully with one hand, the other clasped tightly on the letter.

“Of course,” Keeley agrees readily. “You take your time, Welton,” she gives an exaggerated wink, but Rebecca can’t be bothered to respond as she heads steadily out the door, on the mission of a lifetime. 

“Where’s Becca going?” she hears Henry ask, and doesn’t even bat an eye at Keeley’s response.

“I think to finally snog your dad,” Keeley’s giggle rings loud, and Rebecca just faintly hear Henry’s answering,

“Yay! Wait, what does that mean?” before she’s out of earshot, moving quickly and with purpose to the coach’s office. 

When she reaches the open door, spots the three men inside, she pauses for the briefest of moments before making her presence known.

“Oi, you lot,” she practically shouts, vibrating with nerves and elation. “Out!” Roy and Beard obey immediately, and Ted rises too, confusion written on his face.

“Not you,” she points at him. “Sit. Or stand. It doesn’t - that’s not the point,” she flushes red and Ted hovers half up half down for a second before righting himself up. 

He’s looking at her with a tinge of confusion, sure, but with openness and kindness and such tenderness it almost steals her breath away.

“This,” she brandishes the letter, waving it at him like an accusation. “What you wrote. Did you mean it?” She demands, voice wavering slightly. 

“Rebecca,” he starts, not quite able to read her as easily as usual, hoping against all hope that he hasn’t completely given himself away, written too much, said too much, been too much for her. But it’s Rebecca, he reasons in a microsecond, and he’s fairly certain he’s perfectly enough for her, if she’ll have him, so without overthinking too much, he moves around the desk, closer to her.

“Did you mean it?” She interrupts, desperate and needy, and Ted visibly softens at the tone. 

He pauses for a moment, studies her, his brave, beautiful Rebecca.

“Every word,” he tells her, and it’s a declaration, an oath, a promise. But he remains still, watching her expectantly.

“Right,” she mutters, mostly to herself, and then it’s only a few long strides over to him. She reaches for his face greedily, sliding one hand to the nape of his neck, the other stroking down his cheek.

“Ted,” she exhales, and then she’s moving forward, placing the lightest feather of a kiss against his lips.

He pulls back slightly when she does, eyes wide and full of wonder. “Rebecca,” he breathes, then uses the hand he’s slid up her back to pull her back flush against him, and then he’s kissing her with purpose and drive and so much love it feels impossible.

It’s electric, their connection, his lips sure and pressing on hers, her fist tightening in the hairs at the nape of his neck when he nips gently at her lower lip, mustache ghosting across her skin. When she opens her mouth just the slightest bit more, tilts her head to get the angle just right, and his tongue meets hers, she feels like she might go fully weak at the knees. Ted lets out a stilted moan into her mouth that lets her know he’s as affected as she is, and time ceases to exist as they continue to kiss, hands roaming, pressure mounting. It’s somehow both absolutely desperate but completely sweet, and it’s just give and take, push and pull, just Ted and just Rebecca, finally perfectly in harmony. 

Eventually they part, as if by mutual agreement, but not by much, still standing toe to toe, bodies still pressed together, hands having traveled far and wide on each other. Their faces are flushed, Rebecca’s lips kiss-plump and Ted’s unruly tendril dropping onto his forehead as he lets out a series of heaving breaths. 

“I love you,” she sighs, quiet but clear. “I have loved you, I do love you, I will love you,” she tells him, feeling strength instead of weakness flood her body at the admission, as if loving him makes her more whole (and she rather thinks it does.)

Ted’s eyes are watery, but he lets out a gleeful snort at her words, and then looks at her with so much love in his eyes it steals her breath.

“I think I’ve loved you for lifetimes, Rebecca. I don’t think there’s a single part of me that could exist without loving you. I don’t think I could breathe without loving you, it’s just my natural state,” he tells her, and peppers his words with soft kisses along her cheek and forehead. “Loving Rebecca Welton.”

“Ted,” she whispers again, unable to really move past that one train of thought.

“That’s me,” he says stupidly, and he wonders if she’s kissed him that senseless.

“Yes I know, that’s rather the point,” she says, rolling her eyes with fondness. “That’s exactly the point.”

Chapter Text

When Ted and Rebecca eventually make their way back up to Rebecca’s office a solid forty five minutes after her hasty departure, they’re greeted by twin impish and knowing looks on the faces of Henry and Keeley.

“Keeley said you guys were snogging ,” Henry says, a gleeful accusation, clearly having had the word defined for him by Keeley, and the matching blushes on Ted and Rebecca’s faces deepen immediately while Keeley cackles with laughter. 

“That’s not - buddy, that’s not what we were doin’. That’s not all we were doin,” Ted stumbles, face on fire, but Henry decides to be merciful.

“I know, dad. Keeley also said you were having a grown up discussion about grown up feelings,” he adds, and Rebecca shoots a grateful look at her best friend.

Unfortunately, Keeley seems to have been more optimistic about their ability to have a discussion rather than make out heavily for forty three minutes, because after the exchange of “i love yous” that frankly neither of one of them can quite believe happened, there was very little discussion of anything other than exactly how long they truly had until they needed to be back upstairs. And even that discussion was short-lived once Ted’s lips had found the pulse point on the side of Rebecca’s neck. 

“Right, well, yes, that part too,” Rebecca tells Henry unconvincingly, hoping beyond hope that the scruff of Ted’s mustache and the pressure of his mouth have left no discernible marks on her skin that Henry could possibly see. 

“Cool,” Henry accepts easily. “Dad, can we go get Nando’s now? I’m starving,” he says dramatically, and Ted accepts the out gratefully. 

“You got it buddy. Bye Keels,” he says, waving goofily at the small brunette, who is absolutely grinning like the cat who caught the canary, and then he turns back to Rebecca and pauses a bit.

“Uh, well, we’re gonna head out to Nando’s, but uh - do you… would you like to dinner tonight? Come to dinner tonight? Henry and I were going to make enchiladas, if we can find any enchilada sauce at any of y’alls stores,” he stumbles out, entirely ungracefully.

“Wow, babe, right on, you totally broke him with that body-ody-ody of yours,” he hears Keeley say lowly behind him, and he turns a furious pink as Rebecca swats back at her without turning around. 

“I’d love to,” she says warmly, clearly having got her wits together a bit faster than Ted has. “I’ll be over at six?”

“Six is perfect,” Ted tells her, and then, casting a quick glance to see that Henry’s already at the top of the stairs, lurches forward and places a brief, chaste kiss on Rebecca’s lips. 

“Sorry, I just uh, needed to do that,” he tells her with a truly terrible attempt at a wink, and Rebecca grins brightly.

“That’s not something you need to ever apologize for, Ted,” she whispers, already knowing she’s about to catch hell from Keeley. “Go on now, I’ll see you tonight.” 

Ted himself is at the top of the stairs when he hears an ungodly squeal from Rebecca’s office - Keeley, obviously, and Rebecca’s delighted giggle, and he doesn’t think he could wipe the grin from his face if he tried.

“Um, okay, spill absolutely everything right now you beautiful sexy giraffe,” Keeley gushes, once she’s gotten the shrieks out of her system, and yanked Rebecca down onto the couch with her. “Did he get his hand on those knockers? Did he get further than that?!”

“Keeley, we are at work ,” Rebecca reminds her. “We had a proper snog and nothing further.”

“Okay, so? Is he good with his hands? I assume he’d be good with his hands, Americans have better hand-eye coordination, I think because of the baseball and basketball,” Keeley explains, dead serious, and Rebecca laughs.

“I’m not giving you a play by play of Ted’s make out technique, if that’s what you’re after,” Rebecca says with an affectionate eye roll, and Keeley gapes.

“That’s categorically unfair, I’m very candid with you about when Roy-,” Keeley begins, and Rebecca throws a pillow at her. 

“I wish you wouldn’t be, you lunatic,” she says with affection, and Keeley pretends to pout. “Fine. It was… it was lovely, Keeley. The best first kiss I’ve ever had. Maybe the best one anyone’s ever had,” she adds dreamily, startling when the pillow hits her in the face. 

“So you just went down there and kissed him senseless? For almost an hour? Did you even talk about your insane soulmate cosmic love for each other?!” Keeley demands, and Rebecca sighs.

“We said… the important words,” she admits. “But not much else.”

“Like, THE important words?” Keeley’s eyes are practically bulging out of her head, and Rebecca can’t help the small, content smile that emerges on her face.

“Yes, the very three,” she confirms, setting off a new and somehow louder round of squealing from Keeley that she just can’t quite help from joining in on. 

“Are you and Rebecca boyfriend-girlfriend now?” Henry asks around a mouthful of french fries ( chips , says Rebecca’s voice in his head) sitting across from Ted, and Ted raises his eyebrows.

“Uh,” he begins, not as prepared for that question as he probably should have been, given the events of the past hour (and weeks and months.)

“It’s okay if you are,” Henry continues, undaunted, shoving more Nando’s into his mouth. “I like Rebecca, a lot. Her house is super cool, you should move in. It’s way better than your apartment - flat, I mean. No offense.”

Ted can’t help but chuckle at his son. “Slow your roll there, buddy. Nobody’s movin’ anywhere right now, though glad to know how you really feel about my place,” he says, and Henry does have the manners to look up, chagrined. 

“Sorry. But dad, at Rebecca’s you can watch TV while you’re in the bathtub! Or if you’re pooping,” he adds, giggling in the way most eight year old boys do about poop.

“Well how am I supposed to compete with that?” Ted agrees, and Henry grins.

“So are you? Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“You know, Hen, I didn’t actually ask her,” Ted admits, a bit embarrassed by being called out by his kid on this one. And he’s not about to explain to Henry that the term ‘girlfriend’ feels woefully insignificant compared to what Rebecca deserves - he’s not actually sure a term exists for what she is to him, what he’d like her to be. Partner doesn’t sound romantic enough, lover sounds too romantic and not substantive enough, wife seems right but he does, even in his lovesick daze, understand that he’s a bit ahead of his horses on that one, and soulmate seems like it would open them both up to a bit of ridicule. 

“Daaad,” Henry groans with exasperation, breaking Ted’s train of thought. “Girls like it when you just ask them straight up, and don’t faff around” he says, clearly stolen verbatim from - 

“Wait, who told you that?” Ted asks with a bemused laugh.

“Jamie.” Of course.

Rebecca’s nervous. It feels insane to be nervous, because Ted practically, almost, had his hand up her shirt less than six hours ago, and because he looked her straight in the eyes and told her he loved her, and she did the same to him, and everything was suddenly so clear, so slotted into place that it felt like the earth had realigned on it’s axis after a lifetime of being slightly off-kilter, but nonetheless, Rebecca is nervous. 

She takes a deep breath, reminds herself that her two favorite boys are on the other side of the door, and rings. 

It’s barely two seconds later that Henry is pulling the door open, and yanking her inside. 

“Come on up!” he says, thundering up the stairs, making sure she’s following. “We had to go to three stores but we found enchilada sauce! Also, will you be dad’s girlfriend?” Henry’s words hit Rebecca just as Ted appears at the top of the stairs.

“Oh my god, Henry,” Ted half groans, half laughs. “Hi,” he says, when Rebecca reaches him, eyebrows raised in amusement and a bit of self-consciousness. “Sorry-”

“Dad, you said you didn’t ask her, so I did it for you. That’s what a good wingman does, and my job as your kid is to be your number one wingman,” he says with gravity, and Ted’s hand comes up to his forehead and then runs down his face in part mortification and part laughter.

“Okay, so no more unsupervised time with Jamie,” Ted says, blushing brightly. “Can you go wash your hands please? And maybe just, like, chill a little bit?” he adds quietly to his son’s retreating back, buying himself another second before turning to face Rebecca.

Her face is pink, too, but her smile is warm, and she gives his arm a squeeze.

“For the record, if you asked me that very same question, my answer would be yes,” she says, bravely, walking past him into his flat. “I haven’t been anyone’s girlfriend in about three decades, but I imagine being Ted Lasso’s girlfriend is pretty great,” she teases slightly, and Ted thinks he’s probably the only person who would be able to hear the slight wobble in her voice, the slight anxiety under the bravado.

His brave, beautiful Rebecca. He’s so unbelievably glad that she’s allowing herself to be like this with him, a bit vulnerable, a bit silly, exactly herself.

“Well, now, I’ve never received any complaints in that department,” he acknowledges. “I have been known to go a little overboard on the corsages, but heck, with so many beautiful flowers to choose from, what’s a guy supposed to do?” She’s slipped off her heels, and when she turns to face him, he tugs her to him quickly, smoothly, and gives her a soft, sweet kiss. 

“That’s a lovely greeting,” she says quietly when he pulls away before long, very aware of Henry’s presence in the next room, and his eagerness to get absolutely carried away with Rebecca in any way he possibly can. 

“You’re a lovely lady,” he replies, and Rebecca gives him a terribly fond smile.

“I knew you’d be sappy,” she admits, like it’s a secret. “I’m glad you’re sappy.”

And then Henry’s yelling for both of them, wanting to show Rebecca the portraits of all the players he’d drawn on the airplane (Ted has half a mind to send Jamie his just to get back at him for teaching Henry anything at all about relationships, because flattering it is not.) They turn immediately at the sound of his voice, and Ted’s heart flutters as he watches Rebecca and Henry interact, the two of them clearly delighting in each other’s company, and he’s fairly certain this night, like many ahead of them, will be perfect.

It is not perfect. It is super, super weird. It’s as if both of them have forgotten how to be humans, let alone around each other. As soon as Rebecca sees Henry sitting at the set table, a scene so domestic and so wanted it nearly breaks her heart, all the bravery she’s carried in with her melts away. How was she meant to do this? She has no guidebook, her instincts are clearly shit, and the thought of doing anything to hurt either Ted or Henry is enough to have her completely on edge. The though of her hurting either of them has her at full blown panic.

Luckily Henry is as oblivious as young boys often are, and carries the lion’s share of the conversational load, allowing Ted and Rebecca to chime in with agreement or praise as needed. But all the easiness of their greeting has disappeared, and Rebecca’s tense, and Ted’s worried, and they’re both trying not to be either of those things. She flinches when he reaches for her hand over the table, and then feels immediate remorse as it clearly startles him, and of course she wants to hold Ted’s hand, but Henry’s in front of them, and everything has changed and she’s still just so bad at being normal, especially in a relationship. 

Ted takes her uneasiness the exact way she’d expect him to, and starts rambling and throwing out truly terribly puns and dad jokes like he’s being paid for it. Rebecca hates herself for it, hates that she’s made Ted feel anything other than unconditionally loved (because that’s what he is) but she’s second guessing everything, which is so stupid because deep down she knows the one thing she never has to second guess is Ted, and his feelings for her, and her feelings for him. But old habits die hard, and Rebecca hates herself for this, too, that she’s not strong enough to overcome the insecurities, even for someone who holds her whole heart. The combination of unease and self-loathing have made her a mess, though she’s trying her best to put on a happy face for Henry, and she’s certain Ted can see right through her, judging by the worried and concerned looks he keeps shooting her way that she tries to pointedly ignore. 

By the time Henry’s bedtime rolls around, after a very special dinner and a tense hour spent building Legos, Ted directs his son into the bedroom and then turns to Rebecca, who has a clearly fake smile pasted on to her face.

“Hey, don’t leave, okay? Please? Let me get this guy to bed, and then we’ll talk, okay?” He’s essentially pleading with her, and she’s never been one to deny him anything, even as out of sorts as she currently feels, so she gives him a nod. 

“I’ll be here,” she promises, and Ted relaxes slightly as he follows his son, making sure teeth are brushed before tucking Henry in and reading him a chapter (Henry makes sure to tell him that he doesn’t do any of the voices as well as Rebecca, and could she please do tomorrow night? And Ted feels a fresh burst of love mixed with a heavy dose of concern for her.)

“Okay, you’re being very weird,” he says as soon as the door to Henry’s room is shut. 

“Me? You’re being weird!” she responds,  deflects, and they both stand there for a second staring at each other, him looking at her with soft, beseeching eyes, and mortifyingly she feels herself start to choke up as she lets out a sigh.

“It’s just a bit… I don’t know how I’m meant to act around you, now,” she admits, voice small. “Everything’s different but we still haven’t even talked about how everything’s different, and even though everything’s different, it actually feels the same as it used to, before, you know, this morning, and it’s just all quite confusing,” 

“Yeah, I get that,” Ted says, grabbing her hand. “Okay. How about I pour you another glass of wine, and we go get all cuddly on the couch, and we talk through some of this everything that’s so different and so not, how about that?”

Rebecca, though relieved, frowns. She’s still so bloody frustrated with herself. “That sounds lovely. Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m so, sorry, Ted, I’ve made a mess of this evening, of everything. You should know that I’m terrible at this,” she says, gesturing between the two of them. “Although I’m sure my track record speaks for itself,” she adds wryly, and Ted frowns.

“Alright, slight detour first. You, Miss Welton, are damn perfect, and just because you haven’t had the right partner yet don’t mean you’re bad at anything, okay? Seems to me like you’ve been tryin’ to play a team sport on your own for a long time, and if your partner won’t throw the ball back to ya, it’s just never gonna work,” he says, and Rebecca’s heart lifts at his gentle, if muddled reassurance, as one eyebrow does the same.

“Yeah, okay, so the metaphor got away from me a little bit there,” Ted admits, dimple out. “But point is, there ain’t no way you’re gonna be terrible at “this”,” he says, mimicking her gesture. “Because you and me, together? Well I’m biased but we make a pretty great team,” he says softly, and Rebecca can’t help but nod in agreement.

“Yeah, see? Okay, you head over to that there couch, and I’m gonna top us off,” he tells her, and Rebecca does as told, marveling at how quickly, how easily he’d put them right. She still has worries, she still has fears, she still doesn’t trust herself to know how to bring up things in a constructive way, how to overcome her own intrusive thoughts, but he makes all those things seem less scary, as if facing them with someone by her side makes the climb to the other side a bit less treacherous. 

When they’re both settled on the couch, and he’s handed her back her wineglass, she takes a sip before settling more fully into his side, letting his solid, warm presence provide a physical reassurance. 

“Okay, so this is what the Doc does with me, sometimes, and I’m gonna tell you that I hate it, but it’s also really stinkin’ effective, so just stay with me, okay?” he asks, and she can feel the words rumble through his chest.

“Always,” she responds softly, and Ted grins. 

“What’s the scariest thing? What’s the thing that’s takin’ up the most space in your head, right now?”

Rebecca doesn’t respond for a moment, even though she can pinpoint it immediately, what he’s asking for. She reminds herself that this is Ted, that the past several months of being open and honest and vulnerable with him have brought her nothing but overriding joy, and it’s with that thought that she takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

“I still want to be a mother. I still want to have a baby,” she begins, encouraged by the steady beat of Ted’s heart under her ear. “But I don’t want you to think that it’s because you’re not enough, or Henry’s not enough, because you two are everything to me, I want you to know that. Seeing him, looking so pleased with his enchiladas at the table tonight? It made my heart burst open. And I don’t want either of you to think it didn’t,” she tells him, taking a breath before continuing.

“It just seems patently unfair that I’m asking you to get involved with me while I’m about to start the process of adoption, because you’re necessarily going to be involved, and I can’t ask you to be the baby’s father but it feels like there’s no way I’m not asking you that, either, by virtue of our whole situation,” she explains, hoping her jumble of thoughts are at least somewhat clear to him. “And that’s not fair to you, or to Henry, and it makes me feel selfish, and then I think about all the times I’ve been called selfish, and maybe those people were right,” she whispers. “And if they’re right about that, what else are they right about?”

“Hmmm,” Ted hums, pensive. “Okay. That’s a lot for you to be carryin’ around, Boss,” he says, and it’s this acknowledgement that pushes the tears from her eyes. 

“Honey,” he begins, and oh how she loves that from him. “You are many, many things, but selfish just ain’t one of them, okay? I’ve told ya this before, but I think it bears repeating. I am always gonna be here to remind you of who you are, if you forget, or you can’t get past all the ugly lies you’ve been told, okay? And you wantin’ to grow your family, you wantin another person to share your beautiful heart with? Well that ain’t gonna make me - or Henry - feel any other way than proud, honey. I swear it.”

“Now, about the whole baby daddy thing,” he says, lips quirking up. “Rebecca, sweetheart, in what universe would I ever turn down the chance to parent with you? To experience all the joys of havin’ a little one with the person I love most in this world?”

“But Ted,” Rebecca begins. “Doesn’t that seem crazy to you? That yesterday we were nothing and today we’re essentially planning to have a baby together?”

“Were we really nothing yesterday, though?” he asks, and it’s really fairly rhetorical, because Rebecca shakes her head immediately.

“No, of course not.”

“We’ve always been somethin’, Rebecca, whether or not we realized it til now doesn’t matter. But when I was writin’ that letter, thinkin about you being a mom, I realized that even if we never became anything more than best friends, there wasn’t a chance in hell I could keep myself away from your little family. So gettin’ to actually be that family? You, Henry, a tiny lil baby to love on alongside the both of ya? Rebecca, it is all I could dream of,” he says, emotion clear in his voice. “Do you believe me?”

“I always believe you,” she murmurs.  “Thank you,” she murmurs, lips brushing the inside of his wrist where it’s wrapped around her chest. 

“For what? Thought we agreed no more thankin’,” he teases gently, fingers trailing lightly through her hair. 

“You know exactly how to love me. I just - I want to do that for you, too. And I just get so scared that I don't, or can't,” she lets out, and oh every time she says something like that, so exposed and so sweet, it pulls at his heart strings like a marionette. 

“Oh honey, you’ve been lovin’ me just right for longer than I think either of us knows,” he says softly, just now realizing how true that statement is, planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head. 

“Promise?” her whisper is barely audible, but Ted hears it, of course he does, and he squeezes his arms around her just that little bit tighter. 

“I promise.” She shifts in his arms then, until she’s situated herself between his legs, facing him, leaning forward until their noses are almost touching.

“I love you,” she exhales, and he breathes her words in, tucks them deep into his soul, knows there will never be a day he tires of holding that sentence from her inside of him. He wants to respond but she doesn’t let him, pressing her lips into his, and he’s certainly not going to complain about that.

Ted has been thoroughly unsurprised to find that Rebecca kisses like she does everything else - extremely well, and extremely tailored to him, somehow, despite today being the first day they’ve been actually doing the kissing thing.

But her mouth is hot against his, insistent, demanding yet soft, and when she runs her tongue along his bottom lip, he acquiesces immediately, letting his own lick into her mouth wetly. She moans at that, a little breathy thing that he wants to immediately hear again, and he moves his mouth down to the underside of her jaw, sucking at the soft skin there as his hands slip under her sweater to rest above her waistband, on her bare hip bones. 

Her back arches slightly as he peppers kisses along her neck and jawline, and the motion pushes the rest of her body more fully into his lap so that she’s straddling him completely. “I love you,” she repeats, breathy, into his ear, one hand gripping his hair as the other trails down to rest low on his belly, in between them, and she forces his mouth back up to hers, warm and wanting and sinfully welcoming. She rocks forward a little when he nips at her bottom lip again, mustache scraping her skin in a way that makes her shiver.

As they continue to kiss, his hands move further up under her shirt, trailing lightly against her skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. He finds several sensitive spots on her neck, and with her on his lap, he’s able to explore the intoxicating dips of her collarbones as well, and she moans prettily while he’s there, rocking her body further into his lap, feeling him hot and solid beneath her.

“Jesus Christ, Rebecca,” he groans, and she can’t help herself, she does it again, and she’s rocking against him and it feels so fucking good, and the way his head has dropped back against the back of the couch, eyes squeezed tightly shut, it’s clear he can feel it too, this pleasure creeping up.

“Okay, okay, you gotta stop that,” he pants, when she grinds against him again, this time simultaneously sucking deeply just behind his ear. “Rebecca, honey, you gotta - I can’t - “ he says, and he sounds so desperate that she forces herself to listen, despite the fact that she wants nothing more than to see if they can both get off like this (she’s sure they could, it’s so delicious and he’s so hard under her and she can feel herself throbbing.) She uses her hands on his thighs to scoot herself back slightly, breathing heavily, hair a complete disaster.

“Tomorrow,” he says, practically incoherent. “Tomorrow, Henry’s goin’ to Keeley and Roy’s,” he adds helpfully, and Rebecca understands, though it almost physically pains her to put more space between them.

“Tomorrow,” she repeats a bit dumbly, licking her lips, watching Ted’s eyes trace the movement.

“When we don’t have to worry about anyone hearin’ those beautiful sounds you make. When I got hours to worship you the way you deserve. When I can take you all the way apart the way I’ve dreamt about for years,” he says, voice gravelly with want, and Rebecca lets out a strangled noise. “That okay with you?”

“More than.” She takes a deep breath, the immediacy of her desire replaced by an almost simmering anticipation. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Ted has words. He’s good with words, he knows how to wield them to express, to inspire, to feel. He uses them to press his love into Rebecca, to make clear his love and his devotion. She, though, she’s not good with words, never has been. She does, however, think she’s doing a pretty okay job at showing him the love she carries for him, the steadfastness of it, the breadth of it. Or at least, she’s trying. And this, being on her knees in front of him as he’s pressed against her bedroom door, his zipper between her fingers, is just one facet of that.

He’d shown up at her door about thirty minutes earlier, having dropped Henry off for an extended playdate/sleepover with Phoebe at Roy’s house. Keeley had made a series of increasingly graphic jokes about how Ted was going to fill his free time, while Roy had glowered in the corner, and Ted had turned redder and redder.

“Hey now, Keels, just for the record, I do have a whole date planned for today, rated PG and everything,” he tells her finally, and Keeley cackles.

“Does Rebecca know that?” she asks with a laugh. “Because I’m pretty sure her only plans for today involve you and the insanely expensive sheets she buys straight from Egypt.”

“I dunno about all that,” Ted had mumbled, blush returning, but Keeley had been absolutely correct.

When she opened the door, Rebecca was in a short red bathrobe - one he keenly remembers from the night of the gas leak. She kissed him hello as soon as the door was shut behind him, and it’s clear that Keeley had certainly known something Ted himself had not.

“I thought we could go to -,” he had started, dazed a bit from the searing kiss, but Rebecca had just shaken her head.

“Upstairs,” she had said, in a tone that broached no argument.

“Okay, I mean, yes , God, Rebecca, but you deserve-,” he tries, but she shuts him down immediately.

“What I deserve is to finally, finally ,  fuck the man I’ve been in love with for ages, the man I’ve been waiting my whole life for,” she tells him, eyes clear and determined, and how the heck is he supposed to argue with that? So he shuts up, lets her pull him upstairs, into her bedroom, lets her kiss him messily against the door, hands running over his body as his cock hardens, lets her sink down in front of him, eyes blown wide as he realizes what she’s intended. A part of him (a very small part of him) wants to protest, because she can’t possibly actually want to blow him, Michelle certainly never did, but he looks down at her, and realizes that he trusts her, and trusts her enough to let her take the lead here, to trust that she’s doing this because she wants to.

The sound he makes when she puts her mouth on him for the first time will be burned into her mind forever. It’s so desperate, so raw and needy, she feels lightheaded with the power she has to make him feel such a way. He’s hot and heavy against her tongue, and she uses one hand to keep his cock steady inside her mouth as she pulls back slightly, swirling her tongue around his head, catching the drops of pre-cum that he’s spilling. 

He moans again, another depraved sound that’s beyond anything from her wildest dreams, when she takes him back in full, adding more suction as his tip hits the back of her throat. She’s sucking him in earnest now, experimenting with how far she can take him, how hard she can suck to draw those noises out of him again and again. 

He’d been gentle at first, clearly not wanting to hurt her, his hand resting lightly against the back of her head, but as she takes him deeper and adds more pressure to her pulls, as she pushes back and he sees her with saliva running directly from her red swollen lips to his cock, he grips her hair tightly without thinking, pulling a bit, which makes Rebecca moan deeply.

“Fuck, yes,” she breathes out before returning her mouth to him, and he realizes now she likes it, the hair pulling, and it’s a good thing because he doesn’t want to stop, especially not when she takes him in further than before, relaxing her throat and swallowing around the tip of his length. 

“Jesus,” he grits out, a whine, a sob, and she does it again, and again, as many times as she can before she has to pull back to take a deep breath, and she looks up at him, and he’s so completely wrecked, his eyes are wild and he’s clearly been running the hand that’s not entangled in her hair through his own because it’s standing up at all angles. 

“Rebecca,” he manages to exhale. “Honey, you gotta stop,” he tells her, though his hips thrusting back towards her mouth of their own volition tell a different story.

“Why’s that?” she asks, her voice low and coy, using her hands to grab at his cock again, a feathered touch through the slick that has him biting his lip.

“Fuck,” he lets out, and she preens with pleasure at getting him to curse. “I wanna… I wanna,” he says, closing his eyes against the pleasure as she takes him into her mouth again. “You deserve - I wanna be inside you, baby,” he says, haltingly, on an exhale, as she teases him with her tongue, and Rebecca quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Ted, darling, we have all night,” she reminds him. “You think I’m letting you out of this bed without a thorough shag?” she smirks as his mouth drops lower and he struggles to make sounds. “But right now, I’d really love for you to come in my mouth,” she adds. She’s always been direct during sex - well, always since her divorce, and she finds that most men don’t mind. But it’s clear by the way that Ted whimpers and clutches at her in desperation that he loves it, that he gets off on it. And she loves this, loves so much that she’s able to reduce Ted to a speechless mess of a man, that she’s able to so easily take him out of his busy mind and take care of him like this. “Now, are you going to let me do that, or are there any other protestations I should be aware of?” Her voice is firm, and Ted’s frantic eyes darken further at the tone. 

She’s so beautiful, his Rebecca, so otherworldly, on her knees in front of him, her mouth wet and waiting for him, and it took all of his willpower to stop her the first time, he’s certainly not about to do that again, especially when she’s making it so abundantly clear that she wants to do this for him. 

“No ma’am,” he answers truthfully, and those are the last coherent words he says for quite a while. She’s ruthless, dedicated to her task, to fully taking him to pieces. She brings him close to the edge just to pull off of him, chest heaving as she takes deep breaths, his cock throbbing in her hand. She takes him deep and swallows around him more times than he can count. She uses her teeth to gently scrape along his cock, just the smallest bit of friction along with the smooth glide of her tongue and lips, and he keens at the sensation.

She can feel him start to lose control, feels his hips start to push his cock deeper into her mouth, feels his hand tighten in her hair, almost painful but a welcome reminder of how gone he is. He pants out a barely discernible “Becca,” and a low moan, and he’s spilling down her throat, and she’s taking it eagerly, sucking him through his climax, licking every last drop of come from him before fully removing herself, settling back, legs tucked under her.

“Holy shit,” Ted says, once language has returned to him, grabbing her hands and hauling her up to kiss her, swaying himself on unsteady feet. He kisses her deeply, tasting himself on her tongue, feeling his spent cock twitch at that. She’s kissing him back, desperately, he can tell, and he wonders at how doing that for him has put her in such a state. 

“That was so - that was insane, darlin’” he tells her breathlessly, low in her ear. “That was… Jesus, Rebecca, I don’t even know what to say.”

“A first,” she teases him gently, and he smiles, dimples on display. “God, I can’t wait to do that again.”

“Rebecca,” he says lowly, almost warningly, before grabbing her hips with his hands and guiding her backwards, towards the bed. He lifts her up onto it with ease, and suckles at the soft skin under her jawbone as his hands work deftly to find the tie at the side of her robe.

He pulls it away as she arches towards him, sighing prettily as the feeling of his mustache over her sensitive skin leaves her wanting so much more. The sleeves of the robe fall down her shoulders and Ted, his lips never once leaving her skin, follows them, pressing a trail of kisses into her skin, from her shoulder over to her collarbone, tongue exploring the divot he finds.

Impatiently, Rebecca shimmies the garment down her body on her own, leaving her in just a black lace bra on top, the red fabric of her robe pooled around her waist. Ted pulls back to look at her, and groans in appreciation.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on,” he says thickly, and the blush that graces Rebecca’s face moves down to her chest as well. His mouth continues it’s exploration of her upper half as one broad hand skims the exposed skin of her belly and the other reaches back to tangle in her hair as he pushes her gently back onto the bed. 

“Ted,” her voice is airy but intense, full of want, and she takes the opportunity to pull him down for a searing, sloppy kiss, tugging his shirt over his head and off. Her arms wrap around him and keep him down, close to her, his weight on top of her all at once erotic and comforting, and then one of his hands reaches behind her back to undo her bra.

She doesn’t let him up much to take it off, but he manages, and then after a full ten seconds of staring dumbly at her frankly magnificent breasts, he remembers himself again, and nudges her nose with his, gives her a sweet, chaste kiss on the lips that belies his future actions, and then, with the sweet noises she’s letting out as his hands explore her newly exposed chest acting as encouragement, he continues his journey downward.

He nips at her chest, her collarbones, the tops of her breasts. She uses the new position to slide her fingers into his hair, one behind his neck, keeping him as close as possible to his skin. He’s sucking bruises into her, and she relishes the thought of seeing the marks later, knowing that Ted gave them to her, that Ted has claimed her in such a way. 

One of his hands comes to her nipple, tweaking and pulling at it, drawing mewls from Rebecca as he does so. When he’s satisfied with his work, when her nipple is pert and puffy from his ministrations, he closes his mouth over it, licking and lapping at it with just the right side of too much pressure. His hand finds the other, and he moves back and forth between the two, hands and mouth all working together to have her almost incoherent, and he hasn’t even gotten halfway down her body yet.

She’s whining against him, body practically bucking, and he chuckles against her breast.

“Alright, baby, I hear ya,” he says. “You help me a little bit and pull that thing all the way off ya?” She grumbles a bit as he removes himself from her breasts, but she does as asked, frantically shoving the crumpled fabric down and stepping out of it, leaving her in just a green lace thong that Ted looks at with appreciation - and a hint of pleased confusion.

“You know, I always thought you’d match,” he tells her, with a bit of amusement, and she huffs at him with impatience.

“I do, typically, when I need to feel put together,” she says crisply, no nonsense, clearly not in the mood for this digression. She grabs for him, finds his wrist and pulls him back on top of him, and he follows willingly, but pauses just shy of putting his mouth back on her soft skin. 

“Our date didn’t warrant that?” he asks, teasingly, and she rolls her eyes, tilting her chin up to capture his mouth with hers. He lets her, but then he pulls up slightly and raises an eyebrow, and she wants to scream because his skin is hot on hers and she can feel herself throbbing where she’s newly exposed, and for fuck’s sake Ted , but she exhales a long sigh instead.

“I don’t feel like I need to be put together when I’m with you,” she admits shortly, and the interruption is almost worth how soft and full of adoration his eyes turn. “Now will you fucking touch me ,” her demand turns into a high whine as his mouth finds her sensitive nipple once more, and the whine turns into a hitched breath when his fingers trail down, past her belly button, finally reaching where she wants him most. 

His fingers are feather light, but he lets out a delighted puff of air at the wetness he finds, and as he scrapes his teeth and mustache over one pebbled nipple before moving to the other, two of his fingers enter her smoothly, and she swears.

“God, fuck, that’s good, Ted,” she babbles, and Ted grins against her sternum. “More, please, more,” she breathes, and Ted’s only too happy to oblige. He begins to thrust his fingers, curling them slightly inside of her, palm of his hand grinding on her clit with every pass of his fingers. His mouth is still painting pictures on her chest, and she’s pressing up into it as much as she possibly can.

He’s so good, so thoughtful and thorough and he’s playing her body so spectacularly well that she barely has a coherent thought left in her head. It’s just Ted and more and want and fuck . She mewls when he crooks his fingers in her a little harder, a little more purposeful, and the sound shoots straight through him, so he does it again, and again, and she’s climbing, the pleasure coursing through her, and it’s a deep thrust, the pressure of his hand on her clit, and a sharp suck on her nipple that sends her soaring, spasming around his fingers, her own scratching down his back. 

He talks her through it, sweetly, whispering how beautiful she is, how perfect, how divine, right into her skin as his fingers slow and he removes his hand from her. He moves to her side, lets her catch her breath, stroking nonsense patterns up and down her stomach and her arm, touch gentle but present, and eventually she turns to face him. 

“Bloody fucking Christ, Ted,” she says, letting out an unexpectedly loud delighted cackle, and Ted can’t help but grin back at her. 

“I love you,” he tells her, eyes bright and clear. Her laughter fades into a small, joyful smile and she rolls closer to him. 

“I love you,” she responds, hand stroking his cheek. “And not just for the fucking marvelous orgasm,” she adds with a wink, and he laughs.

“Oh, honey, we’re just gettin’ started,” he says, and Rebecca’s breath catches as he knocks her back over onto her back and descends downward once more, this time passing by her breasts and belly before settling right between her legs.

He moves her legs slightly wider, arranging them over his shoulders, and inhales her scent deeply, feeling his cock twitch and harden at the smell of her desire, her flushed pink state, the soft pants of breath he could hear above him. 

“Oh, Jesus,” she murmurs, and he pauses for a half second to pop up and say,

“No, it’s just me, Ted,” just to annoy her in that specific way he’s recently learned she loves, and she attempts to swat at him but he’s too far away, so she just rolls her eyes.

“Wanker - oh ,” she moans as his lips settle over her clit, tongue circling gently, probing, and then he’s off, exploring every millimeter of her flesh, licking into her wetness, finding the right amount of pressure and the movements that make her press up into him. She’s so responsive, so easy for him to read, that it’s not long before he figures out what she likes, what causes whimpers to fall from her lips, what has her tensing her legs around his ears.

She’d thought about it a dozen times, more, the feeling of his mustache scratching along her cunt, but she couldn’t have anticipated just how sinfully good it feels, not just the mustache itself providing that extra bit of friction, but that the mustache itself makes it clear that it’s Ted down there, Ted licking broad stripes up, Ted using his tongue to circle her clit, using his lips to suck gently at her, increasing the pressure until she’s canting up into his welcoming mouth, then slowing, gentling, teasing her in a way that makes her feel mad. 

He does this three times, brings her right to the edge three times, leaving her moaning wantonly and writhing around his upper body, before he presses a quick kiss to her inner thigh, and looks up at her to find her eyes laser focused on him, her lower lip firmly between her teeth. She’s flushed and bright and beautiful, and he can’t believe she’s his.

“Watch,” he instructs her, voice thick, and her breath hitches at the tone. He attaches his lips directly to her clit, relentlessly sucking and using his tongue to trace tiny tight patterns, and she breathes out his name on repeat as she breaks, waves of pleasure washing over her, her legs locking Ted’s head in place. She’d followed instructions, had watched him as he had, with utter focus, brought her to climax, but now her eyes are squeezed shut, pinpricks of light dancing in her vision, as she swallows deeply and feels every ounce of tension melt out of her body.

“Are you real?” she asks rhetorically, grasping around for his arms to haul him back up on top of her. He just grins and leans down to kiss her deeply, and the taste of herself on his tongue, clinging to his mustache, has her whimpering.

“Ted,” she whispers desperately against his lips. She can’t find any words other than that one, but it doesn’t seem to matter, because of course he intrinsically understands what she’s trying to say, and he begins to prop himself up on his elbows.

She reaches between them and finds his cock hot and rock hard, feeling a wave of something like pride wash over her at the realization that getting her off has him this aroused, this ready for her. She guides him to her cunt, and he presses inside slowly, dropping his forehead to hers at the sensation of her wet heat surrounding him. 

“Okay?” he grunts, and she nods feverishly against him, and he begins to move, slow, long thrusts that have her curling their toes as his cock hits deep inside. 

She lets out a broken string of curses as he picks up his pace, thrusting into her with a bit more force, his mouth returning to the places on her neck that make her weak.

“Rebecca,” he presses into her skin. “My beautiful Rebecca. My perfect, perfect Rebecca.” She keens into his words, and the feeling of his thick cock filling her up so smoothly, so perfectly. 

She finds his hips with her hands and pushes gently, just enough for him to get the idea, and he rolls onto his back, holding tightly onto her to bring her on top of him. She sits up, Ted still seated to the hilt inside her, and she begins to rock and grind on him, and he whines at the delicious feel of being buried fully in her. 

“God yes,” she whimpers as one hand reaches up to pull at her nipple, and one thumb reaches down to press at her clit. “Ted, fuck, don’t stop,” she says, her movements stuttering. Ted keeps one hand at their junction but moves the other to her hip to keep her steady, and then begins fucking up into her in earnest, planting his feet beneath him for leverage, so he can keep pushing those choked sobs out of her on every particularly deep thrust. 

“Baby,” he says brokenly, feeling himself start to climb past the point of no return. “Rebecca, honey,” he’s pleading for something, he’s not quite sure what, but she pulls her head back towards him, opens her eyes to lock onto his, and she nods, frantically, like she knows exactly what it is he’s asking for, and he’s pistoning in and out of her hard, and she’s taking him so well, pushing herself down as he thrusts up, and he’s still working her swollen clit. She clenches around him with every one of his movements, and it’s only a few more out of rhythm thrusts before she’s wailing, climax bursting inside of her, squeezing him so tightly that he thinks he might pass out.

He fucks her through it as best as he can with how tight she is around him and how close he is to coming, and then he starts to pull out, but even through the haze of her orgasm, Rebecca protests. 

“No, no, no,” she chants, pressing her hips back down onto him, trapping him under her. “Please, please,” she practically begs, and that’s what does it, he’s powerless to stop it as pleasure explodes from the base of his spine outward, his hips jerking into her wildly as his come spills inside of her.

His head drops to the curve of her neck and he rests there for a long moment, their hearts beating twin rhythms against each other. She begins to lazily run her fingers through his hair, and eventually he comes back to himself enough to lay gentle kisses on the shoulder and arm closest to him. 

“Well,” he says finally, rolling onto his back, relieving some of the pressure off of her, which she frowns at, immediately curling toward him and shaping herself into his side. His arm goes around her automatically, and he kisses her forehead before breaking out into incredulous laughter.

Rebecca can’t help but join in, and their bodies shake with laughter and endorphins and unmitigated happiness. 

“So that was-,” Ted starts again, but then realizes he has no words, that perhaps there aren’t any words in the world that can explain what just happened between the two of them. 

“Have I fucked you speechless?” Rebecca asks cheekily, and Ted snorts. 

“Bet you wish you woulda figured that trick out on day one, get me to shut up,” he teases, but Rebecca sits up and shakes her head quickly. 

“I never wanted you to shut up,” she insists, and Ted raises an eyebrow. “Well, maybe on day one, but never since,” she concedes. “And I don’t think us fucking then would’ve been a great idea, either.”

“Hmm,” Ted agrees. “I was still married.”

“I was still being a vengeful bitch.”

“Hey now,” he says, sitting up. “How bout we look at it this way? We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be now, and all the bumps and detours and schemes in our past got us here, so we can’t be too hard on ourselves, alright?” He reaches for her hand, and she gives it willingly. “I’d do it all over, honey, just to be here with you. Here, as in, next to ya,” he clarifies. “Like, in life. Not just in this bed. But also in this bed,” he adds when she quirks her eyebrows at him, and she grins.

“Yes, I rather think we should stay exactly here for as long as possible,” she remarks. “Do you think Keeley would hand deliver us food if I let her see my tits in person?”

“I don’t think that’s a deal anyone’s passin’ up,” Ted teases. “But hold that thought - let me just,” he looks around, finds a throw blanket at the foot of the bed, and stands up to throw it around his hips. “Be right back,” he promises, and Rebecca sinks back into the pillows, thoroughly ravished. 

He appears a minute later with a familiar pink box, and grins bashfully at her as he gets back into the bed. “Thought these might come in handy,” he tells her, and she groans in appreciation.

“You’re a Godsend, Ted Lasso.”

Chapter Text

Henry has been in London for almost two weeks, and Rebecca and Ted have been… officially something for a full week (though all their friends would probably argue it was closer to a full year, if asked. Keeley would say closer to two, and Beard would say since Rebecca’s joke when they first entered her office their very first day.) In any event, it has been a full week where both Ted and Rebecca know they're something and are actively and fully being that something.

And what a something they are. Rebecca has hardly spent any time at her own home; she’s been gladly pulled along on a variety of Lasso adventures, from days at tourist attractions to movie nights and everything in between. Her life feels full of color, even moreso than she could’ve ever imagined, with Ted’s hand in hers, watching Henry delight in the world around him, turning back to his adults with wide, joyful eyes. 

She still has meetings, and work, of course, she owns a premier league club after all, but with Ted and Henry tagging along to have a kick about on the pitch, hearing their laughter from her open windows, her mood remains light and elated. She feels a bit preposterously awed by just how much love she's able to feel for them, and how much love they show her in return.

Surprising almost no one, Ted was openly affectionate with her, now that he was able to be, always maintaining a point of contact between their bodies unless it absolutely couldn’t be helped. Henry certainly shared his genes because the young boy was often similar; grabbing Rebecca’s hand as they walked along the busy street, hugging her whenever she bought him something (too often, really,) cozying up to her on the couch at the end of the day, his head in her lap or his gangly little boy legs draped over hers. For someone who had been touch starved for so long, Rebecca was basking in it all, and every time she had to bid them goodbye, she felt the loss more and more acutely.

She thought constantly about asking them to just bloody well move in with her - Henry certainly wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, she knows, as he always prefers to spend time at hers with her oversized squishy couch and big screen, the garden with a variety of slugs and snails to find, and the little hidden cupboard under the stairs that Rebecca had forgotten about until Henry asked if he could borrow, “like, a lot of pillows,” to make a secret hideout. But it seemed crazy, she knew, and even though she was absolutely certain that Ted was the only person she would ever be with for the rest of her life, she didn’t want to push him or them into something they weren’t ready for. 

So she keeps the thought tucked away, biding her time, not knowing that Ted mourns their time apart just as keenly as she does. She does, however, ask them to come around the Tuesday morning she’d be having her home visit, and we she opens the door the the sight of them, bright and early, matching grins and a bag of pastry, it sends her into such a fit of relief she fears she may fall over.

When the social worker, Amanda, arrives, Henry solicitously offers her a tour, pointing out his favorite parts of Rebecca’s house (namely, the telly in the loo and the ovens that baked much faster than his dad’s, therefore expediting the journey from cookie dough to cookie in mouth) and Rebecca and Ted follow behind, Ted trying to temper Rebecca’s nervous energy with a gentle hand on her back, pointing out the things that the social worker probably actually cared about - which room could be a nursery, the screens on the windows, the potential placement of baby gates. 

“And are you here, at Rebecca’s house, a lot?” Amanda asks Henry, who nods immediately.

“Yep. Me and my dad come here a lot, because he’s her boyfriend,” he explains matter-of-factly, and Ted grimaces at the term while Rebecca scrambles to explain the situation to Amanda - she’d filed to adopt as a single parent, after all.

Amanda shoots down the explanation with a wave of her hand. “Ms. Welton, please relax,” she say gently. “I’ve been going to Richmond matches since I was five. I’m quite familiar with you and Coach Lasso, here,” she adds with a warm smile, and after that it goes quite easy, the rest of the visit. 

Amanda leaves with a cheery wave and a reassuring smile some while later, after letting Rebecca know that everything looks great, and Rebecca slumps in relief against Ted in the doorframe. 

“So now you get a baby?” Henry asks from behind them, and Ted snorts a chuckle.

“Not quite that simple, pal,” he tells his son. “Now we - Rebecca - has done everything she needs to do to show that she’s ready to be a good mama, and all that’s left to do is wait for a baby who needs one,” he explains as simply but clearly as he can, and Henry accepts it easily, scampering  away to the back garden where he and Rebecca had installed a bird feeder the day before.

“Shit,” Rebecca breathes out against Ted’s chest once Henry’s out of earshot. “I can’t believe it’s all done and sorted and I could get a call at any time saying there’s a baby,” she swallows hard. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know honey,” Ted mumbles into her hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

“It could still be months,” she reminds him, pulling out of his embrace. “Someone has to pick me, after all.” Her voice trembles a bit at that, and Ted catches her chin with his fingers, meets her eyes intently.

“Hey, look at me. Someone’s gonna pick you, okay? Might not be tomorrow, might not be next week. But Rebecca? You’re gonna be a mama, okay? I swear on it,” he tells her with the such sincerity that she has no choice but to accept his words.

“Okay,” she whispers back, then heaves a deep sigh. “I just hate this part. I was good at the doing part, getting everything sorted. But I’m not good at this. I don’t like it. The waiting part,” she admits, and Ted grins. 

“I know, baby. You’re like the most impatient person on this ol’ island,” he teases and she rolls her eyes. 

“Excuse me, I can be very patient when the need arises,” she retorts. “I waited for you, didn’t I? Waited for forty five fucking years,” she grumbles, and Ted laughs. 

“That’s a long time to wait, Boss,” he says, head tilting at her, raising an eyebrow and she gets it immediately, beaming at him.

“Well I appreciate you didn’t hurry,” she murmurs, leaning in for a kiss, Ted’s smile warm against her lips. 

They spend the next day at Abbey Road (Henry gives her a full run-down on any and all Beatles facts during the drive there, and Rebecca isn’t sure he takes a breath the whole time) and wandering about Hampstead, grabbing ice creams during the hottest part of the day from a little shop on a corner, where the proprietor smiles at Rebecca as she pays, telling her how sweet her family is. Rebecca blushes, looking back at where Henry and Ted are already ice cream-messy on the sidewalk, and has nothing to say but a simple and genuine thank you.

Though the day was absolutely lovely, it was also long, and that alongside the fact that there was roadwork making the usual 30 minute drive back to Richmond closer to an hour at this point, meant that the ride so far had been quiet. Ted’s head had hit against the window within minutes, and Rebecca could feel Henry’s solid, comforting weight slump more heavily against her with each passing second. It had been near silent for the past twenty minutes, Rebecca not minding the quiet after a busy day, not with the even puffs of Henry’s breath hitting her arm, reminding her that solitude didn’t have to be solitary.

“Becca?” She startles slightly at the sound of the little voice next to her, she’d honestly thought he’d fallen asleep. Ted certainly had - Rebecca looks over at him, head slumped against the window, eyes closed and breathing even. 

“Hmm?” she says, shifting a bit as he resettles himself against her, resting his head on her side once more.

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course, darling,” she responds, brushing the hair off his forehead softly. “What is it?”

“How come you didn’t have a baby before? When you were married. I know you don’t have to be married when you have a baby,”  he explains. “But mostly people are. And Dad said you always wanted to be a mom. Mum,” he self corrects. “So how come you aren’t one yet?” His question is innocent in nature, Rebecca knows, and she would never hold his curiosity against him, but it feels like a gut punch nonetheless and she blinks, mouth open slightly, trying to steady herself against the familiar pain while trying to hide her upset from Henry.

But when she doesn’t respond, Henry turns to look at her. “Becca?” he says, frowning at the look on her face. 

“Sorry, Henry, you caught me off guard,” she manages finally, voice thick. “The truth is - the truth is, your dad is right. I have always wanted to be a mum. And I was married. But Rupert - the man I was married to - didn’t want children and he wasn’t very kind about it, telling me I wouldn’t be very good at being a mother, and so it never happened,” she tells him, honestly, knowing that Ted always tries to be as truthful as possible with his son, hoping the explanation suffices. Henry studies her thoughtfully, then his frown deepens as he takes in her words.

“He sounds like a twat,” Henry says crossly, clearly perturbed at the idea that someone could be so unkind to Rebecca, a person who was nothing but lovely and funny and interesting. His tone and vocabulary startle a laugh out of Rebecca, pulling her away from the pain Henry has unknowingly brought forth, reminding her that she has a lovely boy in front of her, as well as a whole future that Rupert can’t touch. Reminding her that there are people in this world who know, as she tries to, that she can and will be a good mother, that the very idea that she wouldn’t be is unfathomable to the people who truly know her. 

“Where on earth did you hear that word?” she asks incredulously, and Henry blushes.

“Roy,” Henry answers immediately, and Rebecca rolls her eyes. Of course. “I know it’s a bad word. I’m sorry,” he bites his lip. “Are you gonna tell my dad?” Rebecca regards Henry for a second, then gives him a small smile. 

“Not this time,” she tells him, and Henry slumps in relief. “Because, quite honestly Henry, you’re right. Rupert is absolutely a twat,” she whispers, and Henry’s sly grin lifts her spirits even further. 

“I’m sorry you were married to a-,” Henry pauses. “A you-know-what,” he finishes, and Rebecca pulls him further into her side, his presence a balm to her soul, just like his father’s. 

“You know, I used to be quite sorry I was married to a you-know-what too,” Rebecca muses. “But if I hadn’t married Rupert, I wouldn’t have ever become the owner of Richmond. And if I hadn’t gotten Richmond, I wouldn’t have ever met your father. So you see, it all worked out rather well, in the end, even if there were some quite unpleasant bits.” It’s something she’s been thinking about near constantly recently; the idea that every turn in her life, no matter how awful or painful it felt or truly was at the time, had a purpose, had a reason behind it - to lead her here, to Ted’s side. And she’d live the same fate over, time and time again, she knows, to be here. She’d take every one of Rupert’s cutting remarks about her character, her body, her faults, if she knew that on the other side of it all would be Ted, her dear Ted, waiting for her with his kind eyes and his hands in the pockets of his ever-present khakis, and the soft smile he saves just for her.

“But still,” Henry insists. “He’s definitely still a you-know-what. But at least you have my dad now. He’s definitely a good boyfriend, right?” Henry asks seriously, as if there will be serious consequences if Ted’s report card isn’t perfect. Out of the corner of her eye, Rebecca can see the slight uplift of Ted’s mustache. She wonders how long he’s been awake, listening. She turns her head over Henry’s to look fully at him as she responds. Because there’s only one answer, even if the term boyfriend isn’t quite the one she’d use.

Having Ted as her partner, as the person she wakes up with and dreams with and shares life with, has made her feel invincible. It has soothed every millimeter of her heart and soul, has balmed the bruises and faded the scars. 

“The absolute best.” The sincerity in her voice pulls Ted’s eyes open briefly, and he gives her a quick wink and a shy smile, just as the car pulls up in front of Ted’s flat. “Now, how do you two fellows feel about some Italian takeaway and some Star Wars?”

After pasta and Return of the Jedi, Ted and Henry begin the boy’s bedtime routine, brushing teeth, saying goodnight to Rebecca (Henry grips her waist in a tight hug, whispering how thankful he was for the Abbey Road adventure) and reading a chapter in Henry’s latest book, switching pages as they read. Ted kisses his son on the forehead, pulls the blanket up to his chin, and relishes in the normalcy of the routine and the knowledge that he’ll have the opportunity to do it all the more frequently.

“Dad?” Henry’s quiet voice carries through the room just as Ted’s about to switch off the light.

“Yeah bud?” Ted pauses at the doorway, and looks back at his son, still cuddled up in bed, but a curious look on his face. 

“You know how Rebecca’s gonna get a baby? Adopt a baby?” Henry corrects himself, and Ted nods.

“Sure do, pal.”

“I know that families come in all different ways, like two moms or two dads or just one parent, or grandparents too, but is Rebecca’s baby gonna have a dad? Are you gonna be Rebecca’s baby’s dad?” Henry’s tone seems genuinely curious, not particularly upset or frantic, and that calms Ted slightly, but his heart begins to race and he pads back quickly to Henry’s bed and settles himself down.

“That’s a good question, kiddo,” Ted begins, a bit nervously, and Henry nods. 

“Because like, you and Rebecca are almost married-,” (Ted huffs out a laugh at that one, because it’s been about six days of actually being in a relationship, but he supposes from Henry’s perspective, and probably everyone else’s, they’ve been together for far longer) “And I know you don’t have to be married to have a baby, but if Rebecca has a baby, and you’re always with Rebecca, won’t you always be with the baby too? Like a dad?”

Ted exhales a long breath, and wishes, not for the first or hundredth time, that parenting came with any sort of manual. 

“Well first of all, Hen, you know that you’re gonna be over here a lot more, too, right? And I’m gonna be back in Kansas more during the year to visit you. You remember the new plan?”

“Yeah, of course,” Henry confirms. 

“Okay, I just want you to know that you’re my number one, bud, okay? I love Rebecca and I love spendin’ time with her, but bein’ your dad and bein’ with you is the most important thing in the world to me, alright?” Ted watches as Henry’s brow furrows and his heart begins to drop.

“Duh, dad,” Henry says, looking at his father like he’s insane. “I know you love me the most,” he says simply, and Ted feels a wave of relief rush through his body at how immediately and easily Henry holds this truth. “Remember how our hearts grow when we find new people to love? Remember you told me that? So I was in your heart and now Rebecca is too but we don’t have to share my piece, she gets her own new piece because your heart grew,” Henry explains, retelling Ted’s own words back to him. (Well, to be honest, the words themselves came from Dr. Sharon. The sentiment came from Ted, when he was trying to work through how to talk with Henry about the divorce and the future, and Sharon had steered him toward an age-appropriate explanation. For the millionth time, Ted decides he should buy her a very expensive gift.)

“You’re exactly right, Hen,” Ted says wetly, so grateful for his thoughtful, empathetic boy. “And I kinda think that’s how it’s gonna be with the new baby, too. I’m not gonna be the baby’s dad - not yet, at least - but I am gonna love them, and I’m gonna be there for them, and for Rebecca. But just like you said - you’re never gonna have to share your piece of my heart with them, okay? I love you so much, kiddo,” he says, pulling Henry into a hug, feeling lanky eight year old arms wrap around him. 

“I love you too, dad,” Henry says. His face is a bit twisted when he pulls back, almost despondent, and Ted notices immediately.

“Hey, what is it?”

“Well, just, why can’t you be the baby’s dad?” Henry asks, a bit petulantly, and it’s Ted’s turn to frown in confusion. 

“Henry, do you want me to be the baby’s dad?” He asks slowly, trying to figure out where Henry’s head is at.

“Yeah, of course I do!” Henry explains, exasperated. “If you’re not the baby’s dad, I don’t get to be their brother!” 

The puzzle pieces slot in quickly for Ted, and as he figures it out he feels his heart swell with pride and love and hope and happiness. He wishes Rebecca was here for this conversation, he knows she’ll still probably cry when he relays it to her, but he wishes she could hear it firsthand, this slightly bizarre and impossibly sweet request of Henry’s. 

“You wanna be the baby’s brother?” Ted asks to confirm, and Henry nods eagerly.

“Dad, I’ve wanted a little brother or sister for forever ,” Henry states emphatically, and Ted does seem to recall several birthday wishes to that effect. “Like, really really bad. I wanna teach them how to build cool stuff with Legos and how to make Nana’s cookies, and I wanna show them all the best movies and stuff. Leo taught his little brother how to ride a bike and I wanna do that too,” he rambles, and Ted’s sure the grin on his face couldn’t be bigger as he listens to his little boy. 

“Bud, you can absolutely be the baby’s big brother,” Ted tells him, and he means it wholeheartedly, doesn’t even need to check with Rebecca first because he knows exactly what her response will be. Henry, however, is a bit less sure.

“Do you think that’s okay with Rebecca?” he asks, a bit apprehensive, and Ted nods immediately.

“I’m sure, Hen,” he confirms, but seeing the reticence still on Henry’s face, holds up a finger. “One sec. Let’s get this all sorted, okay?” He stands up and pokes his head out of the bedroom, knowing Rebecca’s sat at the kitchen table with her computer, finishing up a few emails that she didn’t get around to during their busy touristy day. 

“Hey, Boss? You come in here for a sec?” he calls out, and it’s only a moment or two later that Rebecca appears, a slightly confused smile on her face.

“I was summoned?” she quips, and Ted nods. 

“In fact you were. Come sit down with us for a minute here, will ya?” He jumps back on the bed next to Henry and pats a spot on Henry’s other side. “We got somethin’ we wanna check with you,” he adds, sending her a reassuring wink.

“Alright,” she says slowly, furrowing her brow at the boys. “I’m listening.”

“Hen, you wanna do the honors?” Ted asks, eyes twinkling at his son, and Henry nods with gravity.

“Becca,” he begins, and Rebecca relaxes, as she always does, at the nickname she used to hate coming from a boy she’s grown to love. “You know how you’re adopting a baby?” He uses the same opening line, and Rebecca nods as Ted had. 

“I’m aware, yes,” she says, trying not to grin. 

“Right,” Henry says. “And you know how my dad is gonna love the baby a lot and help you and probably we’ll move in with you soon? So he’ll be there all the time with you and the baby,” Henry continues, oblivious to the amused look Ted and Rebecca share over his head at the nonchalant way he mentions their presumptive imminent cohabitation (he in fact will turn out to be entirely correct, as Rebecca will very soon find the nerve to ask Ted officially and he won’t waste any time in saying yes.) “But he’s not gonna be the baby’s dad, at least not right away, right?”

“Okay,” Rebecca draws out, not quite tracking where Henry’s thoughts are headed. “I mean, yes, Henry, that’s right, and that’s a lovely way of putting it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Henry says precociously. “But what I wanna know is - even if dad isn’t the baby’s dad yet , can I still be their big brother? Like from right away?”

Rebecca’s breath catches in her throat at the earnestness in Henry’s voice and the expectant, excited look on his face. She swallows past the lump in her throat and puts her fingers up to her mouth.

“You’d like to be the baby’s brother?” she wonders, eyes filling, and Henry nods with enthusiasm.

“Only if it’s okay,” he says, eyeing her tears with a bit of trepidation, glancing at Ted to make sure everything is still alright. Ted gives him a thumbs up then looks at Rebecca, who looks absolutely bewildered and so, so bright.

“Honey? Wanna give the kid an answer?” he prompts gently, and Rebecca blinks, then grabs Henry and pulls him in for a crushing hug.

“Henry, you are going to be the very best big brother in the whole world,” she tells him, and she can feel his grin against her shoulder. “Whichever baby and whenever they come to us, they will be so lucky to have you,” she whispers in his ear, catching Ted’s eyes, desperately hoping he can read her thoughts, can feel her gratitude for him, for this life he’s helped her unleash and create for herself. She thinks he maybe can, by the way he’s looking back at her, eyes sparkling and so soft, and she wonders for a fleeting second if he's perhaps even thinking the very same thing. 

(He is.) 

Chapter Text

Rebecca and Henry are elbow-deep in homemade pesto (Henry’s been very diligently taking care of Rebecca’s somewhat unintentional herb garden, and once the basil began overtaking everything else Rebecca had suggested a pesto-making party, to which Henry and Ted had enthusiastically agreed) heads bent in concentration over their mixture, wondering aloud if it’s more garlic or more Parmesan needed, when Rebecca’s phone begins to buzz from the island in front of them.

“Darling, could you check that?” she asks Ted, using her elbow to swipe a lock of hair back from her forehead. Ted’s hands are clean - he’s been an encouraging and eager spectator this afternoon, often preferring to observe the two people he loves the most - so he reaches for her phone and raises his eyebrows instantly.

“It’s Amanda,” he says. “From child services,” he adds unnecessarily, because at the first mention of the name Rebecca’s head had snapped up. 

“Shit. Shit,” Rebecca exclaims, reaching for a dish towel. It’s been almost a month since the home visit, and Rebecca knows Amanda would have no reason to call unless she had news of some sort. 

“Hiya, Amanda,” Ted says cheerfully, picking up the call and turning it on to speaker mode anticipatorily. “Becca’s phone, Ted speaking, in case that wasn’t clear,” he adds, and Rebecca rolls her eyes in exasperation as she rounds the island to stand next to him, grabbing the phone. 

“Hello, Amanda,” she says hurriedly, nerves present and clear.

“Hello Rebecca, Coach Lasso,” the social worker responds, amusement present in her voice. “Rebecca, as I’m sure you can surmise, I’m calling with a bit of news,” she starts, and Rebecca begins to nod frantically before realizing Amanda can’t see her.

“Yes, yes. Hopefully a bit of good news?” she asks, her voice lilting higher, trembling slightly. 

“I think you’ll think so, yes,” Amanda replies, and Rebecca’s hand flies up to her mouth. Ted wraps his arm around her waist, a solid reassuring presence, and Henry, hands still covered in green goop, is watching them both with wide eyes. 

“Well go on, Amanda, don’t make us wait for it,” Ted jokes nervously, tightening his hold on Rebecca, who is practically buzzing with anticipation.

“Right. I’m at the hospital with a birth mother - nineteen year old, lovely uni student, not ready to be a mum but wants her baby to have the best possible life,” Amanda explains, and Rebecca’s heart leaps further into her throat with every word. She looks at Ted beseechingly as Amanda pauses for a second, and sees her own nerves reflected back at her, along with hope and elation, and she cannot believe this is happening, cannot even dare to hope that Amanda is going to say the words she says next - 

“Rebecca, she’s chosen you. She’d like you to adopt the baby,” before the sentence is finished, Rebecca is crumpling, sinking to her knees in disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy. Ted follows her, gently removing the phone from her hand and responding where she is unable.

“That’s - that’s great news, Amanda, I think ya undersold it a lil bit earlier,” Ted says, voice choked with emotion. His eyes are directly on Rebecca’s, holding contact as her bright ones overfill with tears. 

“Sorry about that, then,” Amanda chuckles. “For the record, Ted, the birth mum knows your involvement in the situation as well, and she’s thrilled the baby will have two loving parents - and, Henry, if you’re there - a big brother, as well,” she adds.

“I’m here!” Henry calls, pleased as punch to be included, and Ted’s eyes reach for his sweet, welcoming, generous son gratefully. The kitchen is quiet for a moment, and Ted tracks back to Rebecca, next to him on the floor, eyes wide and wet, and he seems to realize that she’s still unable to speak, so he clears his throat.

“Sorry, Amanda, as you can probably understand, Rebecca’s havin’ a hard time thinkin’ of words right now,” he explains, tone unbelievably soft. “You wanna give us the lowdown of what happens now? We’re all ears over here.”

As Amanda explains the process - the baby’s just been born and has a required 24 hour hold in the hospital, and Amanda’s allowed to give out no other information except that the baby is quite healthy, until the hold expires. Rebecca - and Ted, Amanda adds, are welcome to come to the hospital the following day after 4pm to meet the baby and fill out all the required paperwork, and after that, they’ll have a baby to take home.

“Just like that?” Ted asks in slight disbelief, and Amanda laughs.

“Well, Rebecca’s already done most of the work on the front end,” she reminds him. “So now, just like any other parents, you’re going to arrive at the hospital without a baby and leave with one.”

“Rebecca,” Amanda adds gently. “I have a feeling you’re going to be worried sick that something could go wrong in the next twenty-four hours. I just want you to know, the birth parents have both already signed their rights over to you. All that’s left is for you to add your signature, and she’s well and truly yours, I swear it.”

“She?” Rebecca’s been silent the whole conversation, too dumbstruck by the reality of the situation, but manages to breathe out the word, having immediately caught Amanda’s slip.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to know that. Act surprised tomorrow, alright you lot?”

“But - you said she. It’s a girl?” Rebecca’s voice is thick and light all at once, and she can’t even bear to look Ted in the eyes because she knows she’ll burst into unintelligible sobs once more (she’s right, he’s barely holding back his own at the moment.)

Amanda sighs in feigned resignation. “I really am not supposed to say anything, but yes, Rebecca. She’s a girl. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Amanda promises before hanging up. 

Once the call disconnects, the three occupants of the kitchen sit in silence - stunned, joyous, anxious silence - until suddenly Henry rounds the island as well, hands hastily wiped by the looks of them, and joins the pile on the floor.

“Guys, we’re getting a baby!” He exclaims, and then Ted and Rebecca are laughing and crying at the same time, and Rebecca thinks that her heart could burst at this moment, this moment full of hope and promise and at the precipice of all her dreams coming true.

And then she sits up suddenly, nearly whacking Ted in the chin with her head.

“Shit, bloody fucking shit, ” she hisses, panicking. “Ted, there is a baby and there are no baby things , we have nothing ready, nothing set up, what the absolute fuck was I thinking?!”

(Ted had broached the subject several times, offering to build all the nursery furniture himself, organize all sorts of items into small drawers, make sure everything was perfect and ready for a baby, but Rebecca had flat out refused. She’d been adamant that it felt like some sort of jinx, that making a nursery for a baby that theoretically didn’t yet exist would be tempting fate, and she’d waited too long and longed too hard to be anything but supremely superstitious.

Ted had understood, of course, but now Rebecca’s realizing that perhaps he had a point, after all, because she was set to become a mum in exactly one day, and maybe it would’ve been smart to be a bit more prepared than the zero percent she’s currently operating at.)

Wisely, Ted seems to realize that bringing this up for an ‘I-told-ya-so’ moment would be the opposite of helpful. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Ted soothes. “Member what Keeley said? You just call her, she’ll call her friend who owns that fancy-pants baby store y’all went to, and everything you listed will be delivered before ya know it,” he reminds her, thanking god for Keeley Jones for the umpteenth time. 

(When Rebecca had made it clear to Keeley as well that she couldn’t bear to outfit a nursery in anticipation, Keeley had thought for only a moment before brightening up.

“That’s fine, babe, but look, my friend owns Le Bebe, over in SoHo? And they have like, everything a baby needs and all sorts of designer baby clothes - oh my god they even have this infant sized Louis Vuitton bag that’s to die for, but you’d have to be stupid rich to buy it, lucky you - and we can just like, make a list or a registry or whatever, and then whenever you need it all, you can just pay some sort of exorbitant amount and I’m sure they’ll deliver it immediately!”

And so Rebecca and Keeley had spent a lovely afternoon scanning the tags on what felt like everything in the store - a beautiful bassinet, a state of the art stroller, glass bottles and colorful toys and all the various accessories from the list that she’d compiled from suggestions from Ted, Sassy, Julie Higgins, and somewhat surprisingly, her mum. They’d added scores of darling little outfits; rompers and onesies and teensy socks, and anything that Keeley’s friend Nina, a former model turned shop owner and mother of three, had recommended. Nina had promised that she’d have her guys deliver at the drop of a hat, and Rebecca had handed over her card with gratitude.)

“So let’s just call up Keels here, and get that ball rollin’, okay, and hey, we have all day tomorrow to get the nursery set up and the bottles washed and the clothes washed, and we’ve got a literal whole team who’ll be more than happy to come help. It’s gonna be fine, Becca. We’re just gonna do some power-nesting, alright?” He places his hands on her shoulders, looks her square in the eye. “You trust me?”

Rebecca relaxes, infinitesimally. “Cheater. Of course,” she says, not able to fully keep the smile off her face.

“Kay, good,” he smiles back. “So here’s the game plan. You’re gonna call Keeley and I’m gonna call Beardo and we’re gonna start movin’ all that heavy antiquey lookin’ furniture out of the nursery room. Sound like a plan?” Rebecca nods, and takes a few deep breaths to steady herself. She’s nearly crawling out of her skin with nerves and excitement, but Ted is, as always, steadying, and she can certainly keep herself busy following his gentle directions. 

“What do I get to do?” Henry asks, a bit petulantly, feeling slightly forgotten (he is just eight, after all) and Ted looks down at his son.

“Oh buddy,” he says seriously, “You have the most important job of all. You gotta make some welcome home signs for the little one so she knows she’s where she’s supposed to be. You think you can do that?” he asks, and Henry nods intently.

“I can definitely do that,” he responds, scampering away immediately to where Rebecca has stocked a bunch of art supplies in the den cupboard. Ted stands up, holds out a hand for Rebecca and pulls her up.

“Ready set go?” he says, and Rebecca grins - eyes wide with nerves and stomach swarming with butterflies.

“Ready set go,” she confirms, plainly if a bit wobbly, pulling him in for a kiss before the mad dash of getting a household ready for a baby begins.

Several hours later, once Keeley’s been called (and allowed to scream wildly for several minutes at the news) and she and Beard and Roy have all trekked over, the boys handling the dismantling of the guest room and Keeley and Rebecca arranging for the delivery from Le Bebe and making to-do lists and pausing every so often to cry and squeal in delight, and Leslie and Julie have stopped by with a box full of freezer meals and an invitation to text any parenting question at any time of day or night, and Ted’s strung up Henry’s brightly colored “Welcome Home Baby!” banner from the doorway, Rebecca closes the door on her lovely friends, all of whom will be back early the next day, and takes a deep sigh.

It’s been lovely in a way, if not a fairly bit stressful, having so much to do, for it’s kept her mind off the reality of the situation at hand. When she thinks about the baby girl waiting for her, her baby, her daughter, she feels as if she could burst. She’s in this liminal space between being Rebecca and being someone’s mum , the thing she’s wanted to be most in this world for as long as she can remember. And it is absolutely terrifying. Exhilaratingly, unbelievably, achingly, beautifully terrifying.

“You doin’ okay?” comes Ted’s soft voice from in front of her, and she realizes she’s shut her eyes. She opens them slowly to take in Ted’s face, all soft dimples and warm eyes.

“Kind of,” she admits, and Ted quirks a small smile. 

“Sounds about right for the day before ya become a parent,” he tells her, and she can’t help the smile that overtakes her face at his words. “Day before Henry was born - Michelle was induced so we knew when he was comin’ - I don’t think I had a single coherent thought. Just kept thinkin’ about how my life was about to change and how freakin’ insane that was,” he muses, and Rebecca nods in agreement.

“Yes, that’s quite well it,” she tells him. “I just - I still just can’t believe it’s happening,” she marvels, tearing up a bit (how she still has tears left to cry, she’s not sure, she’s been a faucet all day.)

“Oh it’s happenin’, honey,” he tells her, pulling her in for a hug and a kiss to the crown of her head. “But hey, you got a sec? Henry and I have somethin’ for ya.” He directs her gently with a hand on her lower back through to the den, where Henry’s standing beside a box she hadn’t seen before, beaming from ear to ear.

“What’s this?” she asks, and Henry answers excitedly.

“It’s stuff from when I was a baby! Like my favorite books and my favorite stuffies from when I was little. Me and Dad asked my mom if she could send them over for the baby to have,” he explains, and good god how was there any moisture left in her body at this point?

“Wanna check it out?” Ted prods gently, and Rebecca nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. She and Ted sit down on the couch as Henry proudly reveals each item in the box - he starts with the stuffed animals and pulls out a veritable menagerie. He piles them onto Rebecca’s lap so she can “feel how soft they are!” and then proceeds to the board books - dozens of them, from The Very Hungry Caterpillar and Brown Bear, Brown Bear to ones she hasn’t heard of, like But Not the Hippopotamus and Please, Mr. Panda. She thumbs through a few carefully, reading the sweet rhyming lines, and can almost feel the weight of a little one on her lap.

“Michelle was okay with sending all this?” she asks Ted quietly, as Henry himself begins to page through some of his old favorite books. 

“Yeah, of course, Rebecca. She’s not gonna need ‘em again, and she knows how excited Henry is about all this. I know you still don’t like her -” he raises his eyebrows at Rebecca’s assumed protestation - “But just ‘cause she made some mistakes doesn’t make her a bad person, Becca,” he says pointedly.

“I hate your dedication to being the bigger person at all times,” Rebecca grumbles, and Ted laughs.

“No you don’t,” he reminds her, and she tilts her head onto his shoulder.

“No, I don’t,” she concedes. “I love you,” she whispers. “I think it’s about to get quite crazy here, and I just… I just want you to know that.”

“I do, honey,” Ted says quietly against her forehead. “I love you too. I love you and I’m proud of you and I’m never gonna let you forget it.” And deep in her bones, deep in her soul, she knows he won’t.

The next morning, all the nursery furniture and baby clothes and various items Rebecca and Keeley had ordered are delivered at eight sharp, and Rebecca only has five minutes to stress about the sheer number of things to be unpacked, assembled, and placed, before Keeley, Roy, Beard, and an assorted number of Richmond players (training doesn’t officially start for another few weeks, so not everyone is in town, but Jamie is, and Zoreaux, Bumbercatch, Sam and Dani) are showing up as well, some more awake than others but all ready to tackle the task at hand.

She leaves Jamie, Dani and Sam downstairs bickering over constructing the swing (she’ll make sure to mention to Ted that he might want to check it over after they’ve finished) and Bumbercatch and Zoreaux seem oddly certain on how to best sanitize bottles, and she grabs Keeley to start sorting and putting away all the baby laundry she’d spent the night doing. 

Rebecca tries not to watch the clock - she’d failed at that all night long, tossing and turning as Ted slept next to her, imagining all the things she’d never let herself before. Cuddling the baby on balmy summer mornings out on the patio, rocking her to sleep in the plush chair she’d ordered, singing simple songs and soothing tunes, wrapping a freshly washed babe up in one of the animal-earred towels she’d bought. 

By noon, almost everything has been unpacked and set up to Rebecca’s exacting instructions - most things in the nursery, but a basket of soft blankets and toys and a playmat in the living room, a variety of books in the den, bottles and pacifiers ready for use in the kitchen. 

She and Keeley are sitting up in the nursery, carefully framing the prints Rebecca had ordered - two beautiful floral prints, as well as a gorgeous illustrated lion and a gorgeous illustrated panda to match (Ted had found them, of course, and had presented them to her with a sly smile, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out how this perfect, wonderful man was hers) and of course a Richmond banner to top it all off.

“Babe, it looks so perfect in here!” Keeley squeals, taking in the soft sage walls, the beautiful white crib and changing table, the oversized cozy rocking chair, the sweet baskets of toys, the rainbow play mat on the fuzzy rug. “I’d say everything is ready for that sweet girl to come home to.”

Rebecca’s stomach twists in anticipation as she takes in the room around her, and agrees that it’s exactly how she’s always pictured it; even better, actually, because it’s in a house she’s herself in, and she can hear Ted and Henry playing Fifa downstairs, and she can smell Roy whipping up something delicious in the kitchen, and it feels, truly, like a home .

“Fuck, I can’t believe I haven’t asked,” Keeley says, interrupting Rebecca’s introspection. “What are we naming her?”

Rebecca pauses, and bites her lip. “Well, I’ve actually… she has a name,” Rebecca shares. “But I want - I want her to be the first one who hears it,” she admits, and Keeley’s brow softens immediately. 

“Well that’s adorable,” she says, swatting Rebecca on the arm, pouting happily. “So not even Ted knows?”

Rebecca shakes her head. He’s asked, of course, but hadn’t pressed when she said she wanted to keep it to herself, and even though she knows he’s dying of curiosity, she also knows he’d never push the issue. 

It’s a bit silly, Rebecca knows, but this name - this name she’s held in her heart for a long, long time - it’s going to be the first thing she gives to her daughter, and she wants it to be just theirs, if only for a moment. 

“What about her middle name? Is that a secret too?” Keeley asks, wriggling her eyebrows, and Rebecca laughs.

“In fact it is,” Rebecca tells her, and Keeley frowns jokingly.

“Just so long as you don’t do what my mum did and plug in the name of the nurse who gave you the good drugs. Fucking mum,” Keeley says seriously, and Rebecca rolls her eyes.

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” she points out with a laugh. “I think you’ll like it, and that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

“Fine, fine,” Keeley says dramatically. “But she’ll be a Welton, yeah?”

Rebecca nods. “Yes, she’ll be a Welton. I talked to Ted about it - of course once she’s home we’ll get started on his adoption paperwork for her as well, and I truly wouldn’t mind her being a Welton-Lasso -”

“You wouldn’t mind you being a Welton-Lasso,” Keeley says under her breath, and Rebecca rolls her eyes but continues. 

“But Ted was insistent that she be a Welton. He said there’s nothing better than a Welton woman and we’ll be the Welton-Lasso family no matter who has which names,” she says, blushing a bit as she remembers the ease and sincerity with which Ted had spoken about their little family.

“God, that’s sickeningly lovely,” Keeley says. “And you deserve every bit of it,” she adds. “Babe, I am like proper, proper fucking proud of you.”

“If you make me cry again, Keeley Jones, I will kill you,” Rebecca warns halfheartedly. “But, for the record, since we’re being quite sappy, I am proper, proper fucking proud of you, too.”

“Well why the fuck would you say that?” Keeley whines, climbing into Rebecca’s lap, who lets out a surprised cackle but welcomes her easily, and that’s exactly how Ted and Roy find them ten minutes later.

“For fucks sake,” Roy groans. “You two want us to just ride off into the sunset and leave you to it, then?”

“Yes,” Keeley says immediately, while Rebecca rolls her eyes and extracts herself from under Keeley.

“No,” she corrects. “Did you manage to get the swing set up?”

“Yep,” Ted confirms. “But hey, Becca - it’s 3:30. You wanna start heading out?” he asks, eyebrows raised, and Rebecca almost falls back onto the floor.

“Shit, really? Fuck, okay,” Rebecca gets out heavily. “Oh my god, I don’t know if I can breathe. Holy fuck this is real life,” she says, fingers twisting amongst themselves.

“Oi, don’t be a twat. Take a deep fucking breath, woman the fuck up, and go get your kid,” Roy barks, and Rebecca considers his words for only a second before she nods her head, steels her nerves, and draws in and out a deep, lion breath.

“Right,” she says resolutely, mostly to herself. “Let’s go get her.”

Chapter Text

By the time she and Ted make it to the hospital (Keeley and Roy having taken Henry back to theirs for the time being, with promises to bring him back as soon as Ted texts that they’re back home), Rebecca feels like she might vomit, pass out, or both, due to the nerves and adrenaline coursing through her veins. Ted’s hand on her lower back, usually a balm for any anxiety, is barely noticeable, and it’s all she can keep doing to put one foot in front of the other as they walk through the doors to the maternity ward, to the future she’s waited so long for. 

“Rebecca! Ted!” Amanda the social worker greets them warmly, pulling each one in for a hug. “Hanging in there?” she asks, taking in Rebecca’s spooked and wild expression, and Ted’s gentle but tight smile. 

“Just barely,” Rebecca manages, biting her lip, shifting side to side in the sneakers Ted had convinced her to wear (“Honey, if anyone could rock a baby for hours in heels it would be you, but let’s maybe just make it a bit easier on ourselves, at least at first, okay?”) Amanda chuckles a bit and nods her head.

“Sounds about right. But in about thirty seconds, all of that anxiety you’re feeling is going to just melt away,” she promises. “And then you’ll have a whole new set of worries,” she laughs a little, and Ted joins in, but his laugh is stilted, nervous, and knowing that at least he’s feeling that too makes Rebecca a bit calmer. “Are you ready to meet your daughter?”

Unsurprisingly, the term hits Rebecca in the gut and she can’t respond for a moment, knowing that her life is about to drastically, miraculously, finally shift into what she’s so desperately longed for. 

“Yes,” she whispers, the word getting caught in her throat. She takes a deep breath, imagines her hands reaching high into the air, and swallows. “Yes,” she repeats, clearly, then turns back to Ted.

“Ready?” she asks, reaching for his hand, but Ted just shakes his head, and Rebecca frowns in confusion. 

“Baby, you know I’m with ya every step of the way here, but I think you should take a minute, just the two of you,” he says, and Rebecca’s brow  furrows further and Ted hastens to explain. 

“Becca, you’ve been waitin’ for that little girl in there for a long time, longer than I’ve been around, for sure. And you kept going, kept growing, kept on truckin’, even when it was near impossible, so that you’d be there to meet her exactly when she was ready for ya. So I think you should take a minute, just you and her, and soak it all in. And I’ll be in there before ya know it, and you’ll have to share her, and we both know sharin’ ain’t where you excel,” he jokes, trying and succeeding in putting the ghost of a smile on Rebecca’s face. 

“Okay,” she nods, because she trusts Ted and his gentle, honest eyes and his pure heart.  And truthfully, as much as she knows Ted will without a doubt be the best father her daughter could ever hope to have, and though he was with her for a significant portion of the way, this long journey has been hers to walk, and it seems fitting for it to come to an end and new beginning with just her and her little girl. “But you’ll be in soon?”

“Honey, a swarm of beefeaters couldn’t stop me,” he promises, giving her hand a squeeze. “Go on in there and get your girl,” he directs, and as always, Rebecca follows his instructions on instinct, turning and following Amanda into the private room she’d arranged for, heart beating so wildly she’s sure it might burst from her chest.

Ted knocks on the door lightly as he pushes it open, and Rebecca only barely manages to tear her eyes away from the baby to greet him briefly, smile beaming and tears trailing down her cheeks, ones that started the second she laid eyes on the newborn and haven’t let up yet, ones that have been waiting for years to fall from her lash line, tears of release and acceptance and more joy than she thought possible.

“Come meet her,” she says quietly, and Ted acquiesces easily like always. Rebecca’s sitting up in the bed, leaning back, legs stretched in front of her, a tiny purple bundle resting on her chest. She’s undone her button up for the skin-to-skin contact Ted had told her about, and one of her fingers strokes up and down the baby’s cheek. As Ted moves closer, he pulls a chair along with him, but Rebecca shakes her head without taking her eyes off the newborn.

“Plenty of room,” she says, glancing down the bed. She shifts slightly, carefully, drawing the infant in a bit closer, rearranging her little head so one tiny ear is resting right above her own heart, and Ted grins at how natural she looks, how perfectly at ease.

“Well would you look at her,” he marvels, voice thick, settling himself on the bed near Rebecca’s hip. The baby’s wearing a purple sleeper (a gift from Keeley, “don’t think I don’t see the purple hearts you and Ted message each other like, all the fucking time, Rebecca, it’s definitely your color,”) unbuttoned in front so that her soft skin can rest directly against Rebecca’s, and she has a perfect rosebud mouth, a few wisps of light hair on her head. Her eyes, he’s sure, are classic newborn blue, and are closed so her perfect little lashes butterfly against her soft round cheeks. He reaches a palm out to rest on her back, to feel the tiny movements of her breath, the solid warmth of her in his palm. 

“Rebecca, she’s perfect,” he marvels, but he knew she would be. A few tears of his own slip down his face as he feels the same rush of love and protectiveness he felt the second Henry was placed in his arms eight years ago. It’s a feeling he couldn’t forget if he tried, one that goes down to his bones and straight through his heart. “Our perfect little baby Welton.”

“Her name is Iris,” Rebecca whispers, eyes still glued on the little face resting below her clavicle, one finger moving gently from the little brow down to her jaw and back up. “It means rainbow,” she adds, voice still quiet. “My beautiful, bright rainbow after the storm,” she says, more a sob than anything, but she’s smiling radiantly, face still completely besotted and joyful, and Ted feels certain she’s never been more beautiful in any moment than this one.

“I think that’s the perfect name for her,” he agrees, reaching a hand up to gently wipe the tears from Rebecca’s cheeks. She lets out another half-sob, half-sigh, and tils her cheek into his hand. “Ted, I’m her mum. She’s my daughter and I’m her mum.” Her voice is full of wonder, and his heart simultaneously breaks and mends itself as he thinks about how hard she fought to get here, to this miracle of a moment in time. 

“She’s yours,” he confirms quietly, matching his voice to Rebecca’s tone as if they can create a bubble around themselves if they’re quiet enough.

“Ours,” she corrects easily. “She’s ours. I wouldn’t have her without you, Ted, and she wouldn’t have me.” Ted wants to fight the point, he can’t (doesn’t want to) imagine a world in which Rebecca doesn’t end up here, on this hospital bed, with this perfect little miracle in her arms, but he doesn’t want to break the magic surrounding them, so he just nods and takes her at her word.

“Ours,” he amends, heart swelling. “Hello, sweet Iris girl. We’re so glad you’re here,” he says softly, shifting his attention to the baby. “You might just be the luckiest gal in the world with all the people linin’ up to love you, starting right here with this gorgeous mama you got and yours truly,” he adds, and he swears he can feel the blinding light of Rebecca’s smile. 

The baby shifts slightly, grunts a tiny newborn grunt, and Rebecca soothes a hand over her back, Iris relaxing instantly into her touch, eyes fluttering briefly before settling back into sleep. 

“Look at you, you’re a natural, just like I knew ya’d be,” he murmurs, and Rebecca hiccups out another sob. 

“You can’t just say things like that,” she scolds halfheartedly. “I’m going to dehydrate.”

He snorts. “Well, sorry baby but I can and I will. The way I figure it, I gotta counter all that b.s. He Who Must Not Be Named fed ya for years with the god honest actual truth, which is that you, Rebecca Welton, are gonna be the best mama this little gal could’ve ever had,” he explains, and Rebecca can’t respond in any way other than to lean her head over onto his shoulder, snuggle in tighter to his body.

“I love you,” she whispers against him, running one hand over Iris’ wispy hair while the other reaches for Ted’s. “I will never be able to express how much I do, or how thankful I am for you, but I want you to know it all the same.”

He gives her hand a squeeze, and leans over to place a kiss on her temple, then down to do the same to the baby. “Honey, that feelin’ is absolutely mutual.”

The newly formed trio sit in contented, blissful silence for a minute or two before Ted speaks again, not wanting to break the spell but eager to get settled in at Rebecca’s, to take their little girl to her new home.

“The nurse said we could take as long as we needed to get acquainted, but once we’re ready, Amanda’s outside with all the paperwork and the nurse said she’ll help us pack up anything the baby - Iris - needs,” Ted whispers, passing along the pertinent information, sure that Rebecca’s only catching every other word or so as she continues to run her hand over Iris’ back, staring at the baby, marveling at her long little fingers and fatty cheeks and curled up legs. 

But Rebecca must’ve caught enough, because she nods. “Five minutes,” she says. “Five more minutes in this little bubble, and then we can rejoin the real world. Now, as loathe as I am to give her up, would you like a turn?” she asks, fairly rhetorically, already moving to hand Iris over. 

She’s not sure she’s ever seen Ted’s smile so bright and true as it is when she places her daughter - their daughter - into his arms. 

Once their five minutes (which in truth stretches closer to 15, as watching Ted sway with and coo over Iris seems to have removed all of Rebecca’s sensibilities) are up, and Iris has been carefully buckled into her car seat, Rebecca frowning and triple-checking the straps, and the nurse has given them prints of Iris’ footprints and handprints, and Rebecca’s signed every paper Amanda slides in front of her with a trembling hand, and the driver had turned the ten minute drive home into a twenty minute one as instructed, Ted, Rebecca, and Iris arrive at Rebecca’s door.

They enter the house in anticipatory silence, Rebecca holding the carseat and Ted with the bags, Iris sleeping through the crossing of the threshold, and both stand for a moment in the entryway, hardly daring to believe where they’ve found themselves. The silence stretches a bit further until, in perfect synchronicity, they turn to each other and begin to speak at the same time.

“Well, shall we give the lil lady a tour?” overlaps with,

“I think you should move in. Today. Now. You and Henry,” and then they both freeze again, taking in each other’s words (well, mostly they’re both taking in Rebecca’s words as she’s a little bit surprised she managed to actually get them out, the sentiment pressing so strongly against her sternum she’s amazed she was coherent.)

She meets Ted’s eyes in the silence that follows, and is surprised and a little bit heartbroken to see anything other than the joy he’d been carrying ever since laying eyes on Iris. She can’t quite read him, and that’s alarming too - she’d like to think she’s somewhat of an expert on Ted’s eyes and the feelings they convey.

“Rebecca -,” he starts, his voice somewhat strangled, and Rebecca hears enough in the single word to tear her eyes away from his, and busy herself with the baby as she shakes her head.

“Sorry, no, that’s - I don’t know what I was thinking,” she says quickly, carefully unbuckling Iris and gently prising her out of the seat. “I’m going to make her a bottle, the nurse said she’d probably want to eat sooner rather than later,” she says, clearing her throat and not looking back at him and she walks down the hall with Iris.

“Shit,” Ted whispers, feeling monumentally guilty for having just ruined the moment. He rubs his hand over his face, takes a few calming breaths. The truth is, he’d move in yesterday if he could, and Henry had been mentioning it since the second he set foot in London. But now that Rebecca has presented the opportunity, that little voice in his head that chants too much too much too much at him has made a surprise appearance, knocking Ted off kilter as it’s done too many times in the past. 

He thinks of Rebecca, his brave and beautiful Rebecca, in the kitchen mixing up a bottle for a brand new life they get to keep forever. He thinks of the lion and panda pictures he’d selected for the nursery, the way Rebecca had beamed and clicked buy immediatelyg when he’d asked her opinion. He thinks of the way Rebecca speaks to Henry - not as if he’s a grown up, necessarily, but as if he’s worthy of being listened to and heard and understood. He thinks of the way she’s shifted her cooking just slightly enough to be palatable to a growing kid, the way she makes sure that there’s always peanut butter on the counter for Ted to dip a finger into. He thinks of the way she reads to Henry at night, with all the voices, and the way she’s starting singing Kenny Rogers songs in the shower when she can tell he’s in the bathroom with her. 

She’s given no indication that she’s anything other than overjoyed with the Lasso intrusion, if anything it’s the opposite. She’s lighter, brighter, more free, more Rebecca when it’s just their little found family at home, snuggling under a blanket and arguing lightheartedly about which movie to watch. Ted imagines five years from now, when Henry’s a surly teenager but can still be sweet-talked into family time with the promise of popcorn salad, when they all acquiesce to Iris’ suggestion because she’s precocious and bossy and beloved. The Rebecca in his mind meets his eyes over the heads of their children tucked in between them and she’s smiling the soft one reserved just for him, and real life Ted feels like a monumental moron.

He pads down the hallway quickly, but pauses slightly in the doorway to the kitchen as he realizes Rebecca’s swaying and singing softly to the baby, who has clearly decided that it’s in fact time to eat, and is gristling softly as Rebecca finishes getting her bottle ready. He watches for a moment, saves this scene in his heart, and then steps into the room. Rebecca looks up at him, and he gives her a rueful smile.

“Ya know,” he says casually. “Us living here, with you - that would mean we would be here all the time. Like, there’d really be nowhere else for us to go, so we’d pretty much just be here,” he explains, and Rebecca rolls her eyes.

“Yes, that was actually the point,” she snaps a bit, but softens when she places the bottle nipple into Iris’ waiting mouth as she sinks down onto a chair. 

“Well, the thing ‘bout that is, historically, people haven’t actually wanted 24/7 Ted Lasso,” he admits. “Somethin’ about that bein’ a little too much of the guy,” he jokes self deprecatingly, and he watches as understanding graces Rebecca’s face. “Becca, if we moved in here and you got tired of me, you asked me for space same way Michelle did, I dunno if that’s something I could ever recover from,” he tells her quietly, and Rebecca’s heart aches.

“Ted,” she says quietly. “Come here,” she requests, nodding at the chair across from her. He does as asked, not able to help the small smile as he sees Iris suckling like a pro at her formula. 

“Good eater,” he remarks as he sits, and Rebecca grins.

“Like her mama,” she retorts quickly, the warm fuzzy feeling of being someone’s mum coursing through her with the words. But then she looks up at Ted, and frowns.

“Believe me when I say I know how hard it is to overcome someone preying on your worst vulnerabilities,” she begins, then rolls her eyes as she anticipates Ted’s defense of Michelle. “Whether or not they mean to,” she amends. “But the point is, I know how loud that voice can be, no matter how long in the past it’s from.”

“Yeah,” Ted whispers. “Sneaky little fella.”

“But Ted, I need you to believe me when I say that you will never, never be too much for me. You make me feel like the greediest person in the world, Ted Lasso, because even when you’re in the same room as me, in the same bed as me, I just want more. I want you every day, in every way - don’t-,” she warns as his eyes light up at the unintentional rhyme. Ted holds his hands up in surrender, eyes a bit lighter. 

“Having you and Henry in this house as much as you’ve been has been the greatest joy of my life, until today. And now, knowing that I could have that joy and this one, all at once,” she gestures down to Iris, “well, just know that I’m still trying to believe that anyone could be worthy of such happiness, let alone me.”

“I love you,” he mutters easily, standing so that he’s able to move behind her and wrap his arms around her and Iris both. “I love both of you, and Henry, and this little family we’re makin’,” he tells her, and she exhales in relief. She knows it’s not going to be the last time they run into this little issue - both of them have enough demons in their past to haunt them from time to time - but knowing that they can actually talk about it and move onward, forward together, that makes all the difference. 

“So, will you? I’d quite like my family under one roof,” Rebecca says, and Ted grins. 

“Well, I’m gonna have to run it by Henry,” he says, eyes twinkling, “but considering the fact that he’s been askin’ when we can live here since he found out about the bathroom TV, I’ve gotta a good feelin’ about his answer,” he teases. 

“I texted Keeley, they should be here any minute,” Rebecca tells him. “Just in time,” she notes as she pulls the empty bottle from the baby’s mouth. “Do you want to burp her?”

“Course,” he says easily, grabbing the baby from Rebecca with a practiced ease, propping her on his shoulder. “Alright Iris girl, let’s get some burps out before your big brother comes home and refuses to let anyone else hold ya.”

(In fact, the only reason Keeley and Roy get any time at all with Iris is because Ted conveniently interrupts the Henry-Iris cuddle session with a, “Hey Hen? Whatta ya say about movin’ in here with Rebecca and your little sister?” and Henry practically throws the baby at Keeley in his haste to drag Ted with him back to the flat to pack up as much of his stuff as they can possibly carry in one trip on foot, only stopping to yell out a quick, “We’ll be right back, Iris! Don’t worry!” as he barges out the door.)