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Trent Crimm was not a popular man. This was a fact he had been well aware of for a majority of his life. From the weird kid in the school playground, to the Uni student who stared a little too hard at his male professor, to the jaded and unforgiving journalist that clawed his way to the top of the sports section, Trent had always been aware that some of his edges were too sharp for a majority of people. And this was fine. In fact, it was preferred, Trent often told himself. Better to keep people away so as not to disturb the image he had so carefully crafted over the years.
The only people he had sanded those edges away for were his ex-wife (now best friend and loving bane of his existence), and his daughter, for whom he would file away every part of him that could possibly displease her. These were two clear cut aspects of his life: Trent Crimm, Independent , and Trent/Dad/Beloved Ex-Hubbo , and never the twain shall meet.
And then Ted Lasso came along, and Trent’s twains were strained through no fault of his own.
He hadn’t noticed at first, too busy basking in the attention of the American once they had finally gotten their respective heads out of their arses long enough to jump each other’s bones in the boot room. Too busy indulging in the sweetness that Ted brought into every room, even without a box of shortbread. He was simply enjoying. Until he was reminded that sweetness can’t always overrule bitterness.
It was the talk with Roy that started the crack in Trent’s sugar brittle happiness. Crowded against that shower wall, feeling like a young child again hiding from the bigger boys in P.E, Trent had a mirror held up to his face and he saw those same bullies staring back. Sure, he was less ‘edgy’ now he was older, but that mean streak still ran deep within him, and he knew it. Later that week, Trent sat on the couch with Ted, watching the man’s eyes dance with light as he sang praises of people Trent didn’t even remember the names of. Watching Ted’s mouth move as he poured out kindness like a tap for people that wouldn’t even hear it, a familiar buzzing started in the back of Trent’s skull. As usual, he pushed that buzzing further back into a box in his brain, ready to consult for future evidence. For now he let the sugar settle into his taste buds and pretended to ignore the burn in the back of his throat.
The buzzing was growing in the box in Trent’s brain, and it was taking its usual form of a rabbit ready to bolt. Trent wanted nothing more than to be around Ted. Wanted to follow him around like a lost puppy and soak in the American’s warmth, watch him play restaurant with Cassandra on a Sunday morning while Trent reads him the paper, anything and everything the man would offer. But the rabbit was skittish, and knew the fox that lurked wouldn’t be far away. It had already bared its teeth too many times for comfort. Like when Trent had gotten to Ted’s two hours late for dinner, hair near matted with torrential rain, mud on his feet up to his knees, a phone dropped down a storm drain and a broken down car in a garage somewhere. Ted had swept him in, immediately scooping up pyjamas and a towel, barely letting him get a word in edgeways as he babbled sweet nothings, sorting Trent’s problems before he’d even had a chance to announce them. The fox had darted out of its hiding place, Trent snatching the towel from Ted’s gentle hands and slamming the door to the bathroom, leaving only muttered curses to the weather to keep Ted company. Of course Ted had been understanding, greeting Trent with a cup of ‘garbage water’ and Pride and Prejudice loaded on the TV for when he emerged, clean and sodden with embarrassment and shame. Trent hadn’t said anything but a soft thanks, and the rabbit thumped its feet.
Trent tried to be different. To keep the fox away, to not sour the sweetness Ted seemed naturally accustomed to. But that was difficult when half of the time spent with him was at work, a place where he had hid any soft parts with claws years before Ted had even heard the word Richmond. The energy Ted had nurtured out of the cracks that Richmond AFC had once been was overwhelming, and sent every coping mechanism Trent had meticulously crafted scattered to the breeze. Trent wanted to be annoyed, but found only fondness, and that scared him more than he thought it would.
Opposites attract, that was the general consensus. But Trent was starting to fear that wasn’t the case, that opposites only attracted so one could overtake the other, absorbing and ruining it or chasing it away entirely. Waking up alone in bed on a Sunday, late morning sun streaming between a gap in the blinds, a Ted shaped absence next to him, the buzzing panic of Trent’s sharpness cutting where it wasn’t wanted shot to the front of his mind with no invitation. Trent forced his body up, his hands coming up to press hard into his chest, to settle the irrationality running around his lungs before he slid out of bed and plodded downstairs towards the kitchen, wrapping his robe tight around him as if to soften his presence to the world.
He heard them before he saw them. The clattering of a pan followed by a duo of giggles, one high pitched and slightly manic, the other low and trying to keep quiet. It was followed by the lower voice muttering, Ted’s drawl sloping around the doorway towards Trent.
“Now, Miss Crimm, we gotta be careful with the pans, or you’ll bring the whole house down!”
“Like ‘Zilla!” Cassandra’s voice bounced after Ted’s, as loud and enthusiastic as it always was whenever she got to mention her new best friend, Godzilla, from the original movie Trent had played when thinking she was asleep with the flu.
“Exactly! Now I love me that big lizard fella as much as anyone, but let’s wait till your Dad is up in the waking world before doing a play by play, how about that?” Ted’s voice was so gentle when talking to Cassandra, low and mischievous like he was letting her in on a secret. It was the perfect voice to use for such a little gremlin of a girl, and Trent wanted to soak in the warmth that was trying to spread around his insides, but it was kept at bay by the fox snapping at the rabbits heels, warning it that it won’t last for long. Trent leant against the wall, out of sight of the doorway, hand held to his chest and eyes squeezed tight, willing the nonsense inside his mind to subside to normalcy. When it felt less like his brain was running in seven different directions, he readjusted his robe and moved round the corner to the kitchen.
“DA!!!!” Trent’s ears were immediately pierced upon his appearance, his stomach winded by the incoming missile off Cassandra Crimm, a puff of white appearing around them on impact. Trent coughed as the powder entered his lungs, intense sweetness near asphyxiating him as the icing sugar that was coating every inch of his daughter filled the air around them.
“Cassie!” Trent mimicked his daughter’s tone exactly, falling into the routine as he always did, squeezing the young girl close to him and spinning them in one quick turn on muscle memory. He couldn’t help the exasperated grin that spread across his face as he took in the vision of Cassandra’s face, more batter and sugar than skin. “Have you been playing ‘Zilla with Ted?” He asked, pushing a strand of thick dark hair behind her ear.
“We’ve been making biscuits!” Cassandra burst back, immediately spinning around to grab Trent’s hand and drag him towards his destroyed countertop. His eyes roamed the surfaces of his, proudly slightly bougie, kitchen, where every surface was overtaken by freshly baked shortbreads and chocolate chip cookies, the floor covered with clearly small child-controlled dustings of icing sugar. In the middle of the food based tornado was Ted, still dressed in the t-shirt he slept in, joggers covered in tiny handprints, hair sticking directly up with dried batter and a sheepish smile hiding under his moustache.
“Hey Darlin’.” Ted came forward towards Trent, landing a sticky kiss on the man’s cheek, and Trent’s exhausted brain tried to ignore the sharpness between his eyes when thinking of the dried batter in the grout. “We’ve been prepping for Parent-Teacher night.” Something about the tone of Ted’s voice made the journalist still within Trent’s ears perk up.
“Why have you made over 60 biscuits for Parent-Teacher night?” His head cocked sideways as he watched Ted’s gaze flick away, that mischievous grin he usually bestowed upon his child appearing again.
“Well, you were telling me the other day ‘bout that lady that keeps making remarks to you about single dads-”
“Susan, yes. I believe I called her a judgemental bitch from hell.”
“Yeah, that. Well, you also said she would bring cupcakes during meetings.”
“Yes. Her horrid boys - don’t repeat that in school, by the way, Cass - never let Cassie have one.”
“Yeah.” Trent noticed the furrow between Ted’s eyebrows, and noted the change in tone had shifted slightly from mischief to something darker, perhaps even a little sharp. “Yeah, I didn’t like the idea of Little Miss Crimm missing out on a treat, especially since she works so hard on her school work. So I thought Susan would appreciate it if we took the catering duties off her hands for this one, since she struggles with not making enough batter for all the kids.”
Trent stared at Ted as if he was seeing a whole new side of him, a side he had only imagined could ever possibly exist in the coach’s office scheming a play with Beard and Roy. The fox cocked its head in confusion as the rabbit bared a glimpse of fang.
“There’s only 30 kids in the class.” Trent could only mutter out, cogs slowly turning in his head as Ted shrugged far too nonchalantly for the glimmer in his eyes.
“I figured it was only fair that the parents got a treat too. Even Susan can try one.”
“Ted.” Trent croaked out.
“Yeah, Trent?”
“This is…”
Ted’s grin dropped immediately, his stature stiffening up to the usual polite worry that hung around Ted’s neck like a concrete ball. “Oh man, I’m sorry, did I overstep? I know Cassie is your little girl and you know how to deal with this better than me - I just got so damn mad when I thought about her being left out like that I just saw red and then the red turned into shortbread and I thought you could really show that lady what a good job you d–MPH!”
Trent let the fox control his limbs as he leapt onto Ted, mouth firmly pressing against his, a little bit of teeth accidentally nipping possessively at the American’s bottom lip. When he pulled away, both of them were lightly panting. Trent opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a shrieking voice.
“I WANT A HUG TOO!” Cassandra’s voice pierced through the heated bubble, bringing the fire in Trent’s chest to a light simmer as the small girl practically climbed up the two men, forcing them both to contribute an arm to hold her between them, the three tangled in a sugar-covered embrace.
“Thank you for asking… almost.” Trent muttered, pressing a kiss to his daughters forehead, for once not embarrassed at Ted’s laugh when he revealed his now completely whited out mouth. “Something funny, Coach Lasso?”
“Oh nothin’, Mr Crimm.” Ted rebuked, the hand still wrapped around his waist wiggling against him until Trent squealed a very undignified giggle. “You just look sweet enough to eat, is all.”
“Oh shut up.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Can I have a cookie now?!”
“Only after breakfast, Cassie.”
"Orrrr-?"
"No, Ted."