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He's an idiot. A darn fool. A total wanker, if he goes with the most regular insult hurled at him. He's hovering outside her house, sweating because summer finally decided to arrive in London in the style of a gigantic blanket of fierce humidity. He's also talking to himself. Idiot. Complete idiot. He looks down at the flowers he’s holding, already looking slightly wilted by the heat, but heck, it's the thought that counts, right? Right. Come on, Lasso, move it.
Just as he's starting to think she must have spotted him and is refusing to answer the door he hears the lock turning. He's still sweating, which is crazy considering he grew up in a state that drips heat like molten lava from May to September every year. It has to be the weather though, it can't possibly be because now he's here he's wondering what the heck he plans to say. Or what he might do if she tells him to take a hike.
The door opens and he moves the flowers hastily behind his back, wishing suddenly that he'd fought that impulse when it struck him, fearing she might smack him over the head with them. Her eyes widen briefly in surprise and a minor threat of a smile tickles her lips before she catches herself and shifts her calm and unflustered mask firmly back into place.
"Ted…" The little flip hits his stomach as it always does when she says his name in the way only she can. She opens the door a little wider and leans against the wall. "What are you doing here?"
"I, uh…" Flowers, idiot. Give her the flowers. "These are for you. And I thought we could talk about...I think we should talk about what happened last night."
"Oh...thank you." She pauses and sniffs the flowers, either not noticing or deciding not to comment on their slightly heat addled state. "You'd better come in then."
It's only when she lifts herself away from where she was resting against the wall to step back and let him pass that he notices what she's wearing.
"I've never seen you in shorts before." He blurts it out before he can think, and his eyes roam unfiltered down her long legs. "Sorry, I -"
"It's Saturday afternoon and London is having its annual 'hotter than the surface of the sun' moment. Did you expect to see me wearing a pencil skirt and a silk blouse?" She smiles and he feels like it's a slight reprieve, like the flowers may not have been a totally dumb idea. "And I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you saw me in a lot less last night."
She walks away and he follows her into the kitchen like a dumbstruck idiot, his brain overloaded suddenly with images of last night. The way she took him by the hand and led him upstairs, the shadows from the moonlight falling softly across her chest, the tiny beads of sweat on her forehead warm on his fingertips as he pushed her hair out of her eyes, the feel of her lips on his, of her hands clutching at his shoulders…
"You know, when I woke up this morning and you weren't here, I thought that was your way of making it clear that you absolutely didn't want to talk about last night." She opens the fridge and pulls out two bottles of water, one of which she hands to him, a smirk creeping onto her lips. “Don’t worry, no bubbles.”
"Thanks. I can't promise I won't just pour this right over my head." He takes the bottle and downs half of it in basically one gulp. "Dang, it's hot today."
"Mm, it is." She holds her bottle to the side of her neck, sighing at the cool relief it provides, seemingly oblivious to the effect it’s having on him. "It seems August decided to show up Kansas style to remind you of home."
"Sure feels that way." He takes another gulp of water, buying himself a few seconds. "Look, Rebecca...the only thing I made clear by leavin’ this mornin’ is that I'm an idiot."
"It's fine, really." She lifts her t-shirt and wafts it around slightly, clearly trying to manufacture some cool air from somewhere, but the glimpse of her taut, tanned stomach only serves to increase rather than decrease his temperature. "I would prefer you didn't douse yourself and my kitchen floor in water though. Seriously, it really is okay, Ted, I get it."
"You get what?" He pauses, not sure what she's trying to say. "That I'm an idiot? I'm pretty sure you've been onto me on that score from day one."
"You're not an idiot. Not all of the time anyway. You know, that was one hell of a win yesterday. Us, West Ham, you know…as much as I tried to pretend it didn’t matter any more than every match we play, of course it did. It was always going to matter more." She takes a breath and closes her eyes for a few seconds. "It's perfectly understandable that we were on something of a high last night. We came back here, we had a couple of drinks, and that led to...well, you don't have to feel bad about having regrets this morning. Blame it on the heatwave, if you like. I wouldn't hold it against you."
"I don't regret a single thing about last night, Rebecca. I was just trying to do the right thing this mornin’. I didn't want you to feel awkward, or feel like you had to let me stay if you really just wanted me to get the heck out of your hair, and I…I really am an idiot." He sighs, feeling like everything they are to each other could hang on what he says next. "Alright, full disclosure here, Boss. If I'd done what I actually wanted to do we'd still be in bed right now."
"We would?" She bites her lip and looks down, playing absently with the hem of her t-shirt. "At three in the afternoon?"
"Well, we'd have gotten up for snacks. Maybe I’d have made use of those ovens of yours to whip up a batch of your biscuits." He grins and she meets his gaze, blushing faintly. "Look, I don't think you do, but if I'm wrong and you do regret last night then we can shelve it and nothin’ has to change. I don't want this to mess everythin’ up. I know I can be a lot, and I know I'm probably a total pain in your beautiful butt a whole lot of the time, but you’re important to me, you’re really important to me, and I...well, I like it that way, you know."
"I like it that way too, Ted. And I think perhaps...we might both be idiots." She leans back against the counter, her bare legs appearing impossibly long as he finds himself staring at them again. "Now, I'm almost certain I was a very enthusiastic participant last night so I thought I'd made it very clear how much I enjoyed myself, but then I woke up alone this morning and I started to wonder if you hadn't...that maybe last night wasn't as good as I had thought it was, or perhaps it wasn't as good for you as for me, or...anyway, I felt-"
"Oh heck no, if that's how you feel then I really did mess this up. Even worse than I thought." He cuts her off because holy crap is she wide of the mark on this. He doesn't have a plan for what's about to come out of his mouth but he commits to opening it anyway. "You were perfect last night, Rebecca. I mean, you're gorgeous, obviously, and last night you were sexy and wild and passionate, and totally uninhibited...you were everythin’ I thought you might be if I was ever lucky enough to find out. So again, no, no regrets here. Far from it."
"Well…" She meets his gaze head on and he senses the shift in her, feels the exact second she moves from the cool and professional Rebecca she so often is to the Rebecca she was last night. Passionate and warm, and totally free from the constraints she so often puts on herself at work. "At the risk of stroking your ego a little too much, Coach Lasso, you weren't exactly lacking in all of those incredibly appealing attributes last night either."
"God golly, I love the way you talk." He's babbling like words are something foreign to his brain, and she somehow still manages to speak like Shakespeare writes her dialogue. She raises an eyebrow. "What? I'm serious. It's like...poetry or somethin’. Maybe not when you're talkin’ in riddles, or yellin’ at me but, you know…"
"Thank you...I think. So, what do we do now, Ted?" Her question sounds casual but he doesn't miss how tightly her hands are gripping the counter on either side of her. "Do we take it as a one time thing and put it down to experience? Do we pretend it never happened and move on? Do we acknowledge the chances are now quite high that we might end up falling into bed together whenever we win - or lose, I suppose - a particularly high stakes match?"
"We’re in the top half of the table now, Boss, most of our matches are high stakes, it could get…" He doesn't want that, he doesn't want it to be something that only happens due to the adrenaline of a win, the disappointment of a loss, or whatever the heck it was that finally pushed them over the edge last night. He really has no idea what she wants though. He's pretty sure she doesn’t see him as one night stand material but then he wonders if he doesn't actually know her as well as he likes to think he does, and he panics that maybe where he's concerned one night with him is more than enough for her. "But if that's what you want…"
"Is it what you want?" She keeps her eyes on him, her gaze steady, and he...ah, to hell with it, she's put the ball in his court so he's just going to be honest.
"Look, I'm a lot of things, but I'm no actor. There's no way I can pretend it never happened. So no, that's not what I want. Not at all." He knows that by leaving this morning he made her think he regretted what happened but he doesn't want her to think that sex is all he wants from her either. "I spent all darn mornin’ mad at myself for leavin’. I should have stayed, we could've had breakfast, gone back to bed, and we could've talked about all of this then, but like a total dummy I bolted out of here and now you think all I want is to get you naked whenever we win a match, and that's not...shoot, Rebecca, I'm not good at this."
"You're doing surprisingly well, actually." She pushes her hair back behind her ear and smiles. "Keep going. Tell me what you do want."
He grins and decides against saying anything. Instead he walks slowly across the kitchen and stops just in front of her, giving her the chance to step away if it turns out he has this all wrong. Encouraged by how her breath quickens and her gaze flits briefly from his eyes to his lips and back again, he takes one more step, closing the gap between them.
"Ted…" Her voice is barely a whisper as he slides his hand into her hair.
The instant his lips touch hers he knows he made the right move. He hasn’t always been as good at showing as he is at telling, he’s less a man of action usually, more one of words, sometimes too many words. He's hoping this time it’s his actions that will say what his words can’t quite manage. He feels her hesitate for just a fraction of a second before her arms loop around his neck and she presses her body against his. She kissed him like this last night too, he remembers; all in, no hesitation, full of pure Rebecca spirit, British reserve flying hard and fast out the window, and it had the same effect then as it's having now. When he pulls back it's really only due to the need for air, and the need to look into her eyes because those beauties can never hide the truth, no matter how hard she tries.
"So…" She smiles at him, the wide, genuine smile that she doesn't give out too often and that feels like a gift when she does. "You decided to dispense with words entirely."
"You know me, I'm no Shakespeare, I didn't wander lonely as a cloud, or whatever…" He grins at the sight of her shaking her head and smirking slightly. "I'm messin’ with you, I know that's not Shakespeare, but you know what I mean. I'm not a...I talk a lot, I know that, but I'm not sure I’m always great at sayin’ what I really feel-"
"You're better than you think. And you bought me flowers, Ted." Her hand reaches for his and her fingers slide comfortably between his. "You know, the entire time we were married Rupert didn't buy me flowers once."
"Not once?" She shakes her head and he feels her hand hold onto his a little tighter. "Yet more proof that Rupert Mannion is a piece of shit."
"Quite." She grins, likely at the sound of a rare curse from him, before she tugs on his hand and starts to lead him towards the back of the house. "Let's go outside, there might be a slight breeze. It's worth a try."
Turns out there's not even a sniff of a breeze but it actually feels good to be outside anyway, looking at her space; her plants, outside furniture, and even a bird table.
"Seems I was wrong about the breeze." She stretches her legs out and rests her feet on the small table in front of them. "It's funny, really. Every summer we get at least a few days where the heat feels insane, some years we get weeks of it, but every year we're all like bats in the belfry acting like we've never experienced such madness before. I wonder why that is."
"Human nature." She's right, it is funny. There were definitely days like this last summer yet if someone told him today that London had never been so hot before he'd probably believe them. "Same reason women have more than one child, I guess. They forget the pain they were in the last time. I mean, I've never given birth but I had forgotten the few days last summer when I thought my brain was going to melt. I do remember you showing up to work in sandals though so there were some perks."
"Well yes, when the mercury reaches a certain level I do have a tendency to go wild and get my toes out." She wiggles her toes and grins at him.
"We never really do this, do we?" He turns slightly in his chair to face her. "Just sit, I mean, shootin’ the breeze like this."
"No, I don't suppose we do." She reaches over and strokes her hand down his arm, surprising him, making him smile. "There are plenty of things we don't do."
"Well…" He knows this is where he would usually come in with a silly comment and she'd roll her eyes. It really does feel weird not to. "I can't even joke about the one thing we're not doin’ that I'd like to because, you know, we covered that last night."
"Mm, we covered it very thoroughly last night." She's not looking at him, her gaze is fixed on a tiny bird sitting on the feeding table, but there's a smile on her face and her hand is still resting gently on his arm. "Other than what we did last night, and occasionally drinking a bit too much in the Crown and Anchor on a Friday night, we really don't do an awful lot that isn't just...work, or work related, I suppose."
"Yeah, we probably do work too much." He works too much because he doesn't have a whole lot to rush home for, and if he's working then at least he's with her. He doubts she has a clue that's the case, he's pretty sure she just assumes he's a workaholic.
"Quite possibly." She smiles and he thinks he's seen her smile more in the last twenty four hours than in the whole time he's known her. She's even more beautiful than usual when she smiles and he decides it's his newfound mission in life to make her smile as much as he can.
"You know, Rebecca…" He pauses, watching her as she lifts her legs up off the table, stretching them out long and sighing. "You seem to have forgotten we spent two evenings together last week that had nothing to do with work."
"Last week?" He watches as the wheels turn and she tries to remember the previous week. "I'm not sure you bringing ice cream into a meeting means the meeting no longer counts as work."
"I did bring ice cream for you, that's true, but that's not what I'm talkin’ about." She still looks confused, somehow managing a frown and a smile simultaneously, like those crazy days when it rains while the sun's still shining. "We went to a movie on Monday, and on Wednesday, literally three days ago, you came shoppin’ with me to help me choose somethin’ for my mom’s birthday. Pretty sure neither of those things were anythin’ to do with work."
"No, you're right, we did. What can I say? It's been a long week." She shrugs and he senses she has more to say, so he waits, his brain filled suddenly with thoughts of ice cream. "I think...it would be nice if we did things like that more often. Maybe not the shopping, I got the distinct impression you didn't exactly love every minute of that."
"We were in Selfridge's for about four hours." So, he could be exaggerating slightly, but still, it felt like four hours. "A lesser man would have run out of stamina completely."
"We were in Selfridge's for about forty minutes." She aims her first eye roll of the day at him, and damn it if he doesn't love it. "But fine, next year I'll go alone to buy your mom's present and you will have nothing more to do than wrap it in some nice shiny paper and take it to the post office."
"Next year, huh?" He can't help the grin that spreads across his face at that, and he doesn't miss how her cheeks flush faintly. "You got yourself a deal."
"It'll be much quicker shopping without a sulky toddler in tow anyway." She smiles again and runs a hand over her forehead, reminding him of just how warm it still is. "We do go to the cinema sometimes, I think I'd forgotten that. Maybe because I sleep through the films you choose more than I care to admit. Anyway, we should keep doing that, and maybe we could go out for dinner from time to time so you're not solely existing on pasta and cereal."
"We should definitely do all of those things." He finds his hand reaching for hers and he's rewarded with another smile as he runs his thumb gently over her knuckles. "You know what else we should do?"
"A lot more of what we did last night?" She looks right at him, her green eyes clear and bright, and it hits him again just how ridiculously beautiful she is.
"Rebecca Welton, you have a one-track mind." He grins at her, and he can't deny he's absolutely looking forward to repeating last night but for once it wasn't what he was referring to. "I was going to say we should go out and get ice cream."
"Now?" She smiles and he thinks the idea of something to cool them both down, even if it's only for a short while, appeals to her as much as to him.
"Yeah, let's go get ice cream, sit on the grass for a while." He suddenly wants nothing more than to stroll across the green holding her hand. Jeez, who knew when you buy your girl a bunch of flowers your brain turns to mush. "It's a thousand degrees out here, it has to be a legal requirement for ice cream, right? I want one of those cones with a chocolate stick thing and strawberry sauce. Sprinkles too, the works. You in?"
"Sprinkles?" Her smile widens and she leans towards him, resting her hand on his cheek and kissing him. A short, sweet kiss that somehow still manages to make his toes curl and his hopes leap. "I'm in."