Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s just after 8pm in Kansas, the sun beginning to set over the horizon, when Ted’s phone starts vibrating where it rests beside him on the front steps. 

Henry’s at a friend’s house for the night and, though Ted only has a few days left before he heads back to Richmond, he’s happy to see the boy spending more time with his buddies. He remembers being his age and not really having such a large group of friends to hang with outside of school in the summer, so he’s glad that Henry has a close circle of classmates to enjoy the final weeks of freedom with. 

He reaches for his phone, face-down on the wooden slats of the porch to his right. He expects to see his mama’s name, or even Michelle’s—maybe needing to go over the details of Henry’s final few days with him—but the name he’s actually greeted with would’ve never even cracked his top five guesses. Even in his surprise, an easy, slow smile blooms across his face when it’s Rebecca’s face that lights up his lock screen. 

Her contact photo has to be one of his favorite photos of her. It’s high praise considering he loves every picture he’s ever seen of her—she’s one photogenic lady, who can blame him?—but this one is extra special to him. 

It’s a candid of Rebecca from one of their nights out at The Crown & Anchor a few months back. She was reacting to something he said, though he can’t for the life of him remember now what it was. He remembers her vividly, though; even without the photo in front of him he’d be able to recall exactly what she looked like sitting across the table.

Bright eyes, pink cheeks, beautiful. 

In this particular shot her brows are drawn, her nose scrunched in a way that makes her eyes crinkle, her lips curled into a smile that’s equal parts amused and confused—her default expression when it comes to him, he’s realized. Keeley took it and sent it to him later that night, accompanied by nothing more than a heart-eyes emoji and a winky-face emoji.

He ignored them when he heart reacted to the photo, but he was less able to ignore the fluttery feeling in his gut in response to them. 

He’s so caught up in staring at her photo and chasing the elated feeling in his chest that rises with the mere fact of Rebecca calling that he forgets for a moment to wonder, and worry about, why she’s calling at nearly 2:30 in the morning Richmond time. 

Concern now the dominant emotion tingling at the tips of his fingers, Ted swipes to answer the call. 

“Rebecca?” 

There’s no response at first, just the sounds of shuffling, and then he hears his name, a relieved exhale of, “Ted.” 

Despite the crackling beneath his skin, he smiles at the sound of her voice. He hasn’t heard it since he left for Kansas a week and a half ago to see Henry during the tail end of his school break, and he wasn’t anticipating just how… wrong it would feel to go so long without it. 

There hasn’t been a complete cut-off of communication with Rebecca in his absence, much to his delight. It’s only been a few texts here and there, casual check-ins or a photo of the landscape he thought she might enjoy. He smiles thinking about the photo he’d sent her earlier in the week when he and Henry drove out to the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve in the Flint Hills; 10,000 acres of trails is impressive, but it was the herd of bison that got Rebecca’s attention. 

If you get mauled by a bull out in the bloody country, so help me, she’d texted. 

It made him laugh. It could be a cow, boss, he told her, clarifying with, a cow is also what female bison are called when she’d very adorably sent back a photo of a dairy cow and a question mark. 

Well, stay away from all cows. Followed by: Anything with horns, actually. And then: Not everything is a friend, Ted. I expect you to return with zero puncture wounds.

Her concern for his well-being was touching, even if he was a bit concerned that she thought he might try to befriend a bison. But then he started to wonder if there were people out there that raised bison from calves and formed a bond with them, like how people did with gorillas and tigers and stuff, ‘cause he thinks that would be fun and—

Okay, so maybe Rebecca’s concern wasn’t entirely baseless after all. 

She had asked him to let her know when he and Henry made it out of the grasslands without incident, and a few hours later he sent a photo of the backyard of his rental as the sun began to set with a cheery wound-free and back at the house 👍🏼 attached. 

Rebecca heart reacted to the photo and sent back, I’m pleased to hear it.  

In their week and a half of sporadic messages there’s never been a phone call, though, and while he certainly isn’t complaining, the switch up does add to his worry. 

“Everything all right, boss? It’s kinda late over there.”

She starts to say something but he doesn’t catch it, the sound of her voice quickly replaced with more rustling, a thud, some clattering, and then Rebecca’s distant, hushed, “Shit.”

“Rebecca?” he says into the receiver. There’s an edge to his voice he tries to steady; if she can still hear him and there is something wrong, he needs to stay calm for her. 

His heart leaps and he tilts his body forward, pressing the phone tighter to his ear as if that might enhance his ability to hear whatever’s happening on the other end. He thinks he hears Rebecca, but her voice is too quiet, a mumble almost, and he can’t make out anything she’s saying. 

The rustling sound gets louder, almost like static but not quiet, like the phone’s rubbing back and forth against something. That doesn’t exactly make him feel better. 

Images of worst-case scenarios fill his mind. 

Rebecca wrestling for her phone, knocked out of her hand by an intruder before she could tell him what was going on. Rebecca having some sort of medical emergency, succumbing to it and dropping her phone before she’s had the chance to relay the information— 

“Boss, hey,” he calls, a little louder, the worry a little less reigned in. “Rebecca!” 

More swishing noises, her voice getting closer, and then, finally, an out of breath, “Christ.”

He can tell she’s speaking into the phone now; she’s loud and clear. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his palm braced on the step at his hip. Like he might need to jump up from the porch and… what? Run across the ocean to get to her? 

The knowledge that he’d do just that if he could settles low in his gut. 

Rebecca hums. “Dropped my phone,” she says. Nonchalant, easy, absolutely no inkling of the panic that had just gripped him. “Knocked the bloody glass off the coffee table. Phone hit the carpet with it and whoosh kicked it under.”

His shoulders loosen, releasing their tension. She’s fine. 

With the confirmation that she’s not in harm’s way, he latches onto the way she’s speaking, the specific cadence of her speech, and his cheeks bunch.

“Are you drunk, boss?” he teases. 

“No,” she says, the word drawn out. And then: “Who’s to decide what’s drunk, really?”

He chuckles. “So that’s a yes.” There’s silence and he manages an amused: “If you’re making a face or wavin’ one of those dismissive hands of yours, I can’t see it.” 

Rebecca grumbles and then he’s getting a request to switch the call to a FaceTime. He laughs even as his heart kicks into overdrive; he accepts it without hesitation and his grin widens when the call connects and her face fills the screen. It’s dimly lit in what he assumes to be her living room, if the back of the couch behind her is any indication, but she’s seated near enough to a lamp that there’s a soft glow surrounding her. 

Her cheeks are rosy from the alcohol, wine or gin if he had to guess. Her eyes are glassy but there’s a gentle, closed-mouth smile curling on her lips.

“Well hi there,” he says, his own smile softening at the sight of her. 

Rebecca doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He can see her regarding him, her eyes tracking around the picture. Something casts across her face for a brief moment, a look that’s gone before he even has a chance to begin guessing at it; it disappears as quickly as it came, replaced with an affable expression he’s more familiar with.

The phone shifts and slips and she disappears from frame again, the camera panning to what he thinks is the cushion of her couch. There’s a small blip in the corner, a throw pillow maybe, and he watches on in amusement. When she doesn’t reappear, he calls her name.

“Rebecca?” he tries, finally pushing himself off of the steps to relocate to the small swing at the edge of the porch. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s a relaxing place to sit on nights like this and his butt has reached an uncomfortable degree of numbness from the wood. “Boss, you still with me?”

He’s dizzy with the phone’s movement then. It’s a flurry of blurred images for a few seconds before he catches a glimpse of her forearm, her chest—oh, she’s wearing a considerably low-cut shirt—actually it looks more like the neckline of a dress, and that’s a very close—

Blessedly, she manages to frame her face again, and he lets out a deep exhale.

“Ted,” she smiles, like she’d already forgotten he was there. It’s endearing, the way her eyes light up; the alcohol-induced haze is clearer now, but they’re still oh so beautiful. “Hello.”

“Hi,” he repeats, the fondness in his voice on full display. “What have you been up to this evening?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she hums, a coy smirk blooming across her glossy lips. 

His breath catches, something hot simmering at the base of his spine at her playful tease. 

This is a different Rebecca to the one he’s so accustomed to; looser, likely from the drink, but more at ease too, coquettish in a way he doesn’t associate with her normally. He likes it. 

“I would,” he says, leaning against the back of the swing.

She makes another noise in the back of her throat but doesn’t respond further. He doesn’t mind, really; she’s welcome to share whatever she’d like, withhold anything else. He’s just happy to have her here. He’s thrilled to be talking to her at all, to be seeing her right now when he didn’t think he’d get that luxury for a few more days. 

It might not be the way he’d like, can’t really compare to having her with him in the flesh, but getting to see her through the tiny screen of his phone is better than not seeing her at all. 

Still, he has to wonder… 

“Not that I don’t love hearing from you, ‘cause I’ve been missing our biscuits with the boss time somethin’ fierce,” he admits. Her lips part, just so, and he second-guesses his openness for half a beat; but then he recognizes that she looks touched, not uncomfortable, and the doubt dissipates. “But to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She takes a moment, her gaze dropping down. He can only see her lashes from this angle, rich and fluttery, the mascara she’s got on making them look a mile long. So pretty. 

Even more stunning when her eyes lift, the gorgeous green a contrast against those dark lashes. 

Rebecca stares at him, that peculiar look from earlier passing over her face again; he still can’t place it, but he doesn’t dwell too deeply on it. Instead, he focuses on the licking of her lips and the gentle way she regards him through the screen. 

“I miss you.”

His heart expands in his chest, something achingly tender slipping between each crevice and settling in.

“Aw shucks,” he says. It’s not that he thought she didn’t miss him, but he didn’t exactly think she did miss him either. “I miss you, too, boss.”

“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. It comes out something of a whine, a new-to-him sound that really highlights how not sober she is. She disappears from frame again, or maybe she angles the phone away from her face purposefully, but when she pops back into view she’s got her bottom lip pinned between her teeth and her eyes are a tad unfocused. “I miss you.”

Ted isn’t quite sure what the difference is, what’s being lost in translation between her missing him and missing him, but he can tell it’s important to her.  

She half-pouts, half-frowns, the look on her face so foreign to him he isn’t sure what to do with it at first. All he knows is that he doesn’t like it, doesn’t like the way it pulls down around her mouth and makes it look like she might cry. 

The earnestness with which she says it, however, the genuine emotion etched into each line of her face, makes his chest ache. He softens with it, something gentle and tacky looping itself around the base of his spine and working its way up. 

“Hey now.” It’s so gentle, affection dripping from his voice when he says: “Gonna need you to turn that frown upside down.”

Rebecca shakes her head, no longer looking at him. Her hair is down and spilling around her shoulders; a few curls fall into her face with the way she inclines her head, the line of her jaw sharp and set. She tilts her chin up, the column of her throat exposed and showing him the thick swallow she tries to choke down.

“Can you show me that beautiful face of yours again, please?”

It just comes out, feels natural, feels right for the moment, but he watches the way her chest stutters with a tiny gasp of surprise. Still, she obliges, gracing him with the turn of her face. Her eyes lift to the camera again and he smiles, a tender thing. 

“There she is,” he murmurs, reveling in the way the pink in her cheeks deepens. He makes sure she’s looking at him when he says: “Rebecca, I miss you, too.”

He might not know exactly what she means by it, or what the exact differentiation is between missing and missing, but he knows in his gut that he does. Miss her, in whatever important way she misses him. The alternative, whatever it might be, isn’t even entertainable. He just does.

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” he says, full of affection. “I don’t want you questioning that. Okay?”

Rebecca’s mouth tugs at the corners as she nods slowly, a little sloppily. Her eyes are heavier than they were a moment ago. Despite that, she reaches off camera and pulls back with a glass of wine he didn’t realize she had; she lifts the rim to her lips and takes a long sip, her fingers wrapped delicately around the stem. He tries not to focus on that. 

She lets out a deep sigh, her eyes finally slipping closed. Her body leans back into the cushions of the couch, sinking in, and he’s momentarily worried about the liquid spilling on the light fabric. But then she takes another sip, eyes still closed, and blindly deposits the wine off screen.

At least that isn’t going to be a problem she has to deal with.

Ted watches her for a few minutes, neither of them speaking. Rebecca lets her head rest against the back of the couch, relaxed; he observes the way her chest rises and falls evenly, the swell of her breasts and the jut of her collarbone drawing his attention for longer than strictly friendly.

He raises his eyes back to her face.

As content as she looks at this moment, there’s still something niggling at him. 

“Is everything else okay?” he asks quietly, breaking the silence. “Usually when I’m drinkin’ alone there’s a reason.”

If she truly did call just to talk to him, to tell him she missed him, that’s… well, he thinks he’ll ride that high for the next few weeks. But he needs to be sure there isn’t some underlying reason, something else bothering her. 

“Not alone,” she mumbles.

His tongue feels funny. His neck heats up, embarrassingly so, as he thinks of someone there with Rebecca. He imagines a man there; he’s probably somewhere in her home while she takes a few minutes to talk to him. A man upstairs in her bed, waiting patiently for her to return. 

It makes his stomach sour in a way he doesn’t feel entitled to.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he apologizes, like he was the one to call her and not the other way around. Working around the lump in his throat, he continues on. “Shouldn’t you get back to… I mean, I’ll let you go be with…”

“Are you jealous, Ted?” she asks. Her voice is both a low rumble and a little slurred, her eyes barely open as she peers at him. The curve of her lips is dangerous, though.

He… well, yes. With blazing clarity, he realizes he is jealous. He doesn’t want there to be someone there with her, doesn’t want someone else to be holding her, pushing her hair out of her face, being on the receiving end of a sleepy smile or a soft, tipsy kiss. 

And then as he’s thinking it his stomach drops for an entirely different reason, because Rebecca’s drunk, considerably so, and the thought of a man there who doesn’t care, who won’t bother themselves with taking proper care of her, a man who might encourage her to do something she can’t consent to, a man who won’t tend to her the same way he—

“I’m…” He pauses, sidestepping the jealousy question while also considering how to word what he feels the need to say without having her think he’s trying to insert himself into her personal business. “I don’t wanna overstep, but it ain’t gonna sit right with me unless I say somethin’...” 

Tired eyes find him through the phone screen, inquiring. “Hm?” 

“I know you’re more than capable of takin’ care of yourself, but I just want to make sure whoever might be there with you isn’t… that they won’t…” 

He exhales, taking a moment. He won’t be able to live with himself if he has this concern and does nothing with it, if he tucks away his thoughts for the sake of not wanting to cross a boundary and then god forbid something does happen to her. But it’s difficult to find the words; how does he tell his drunk friend slash boss slash woman he’s pretty sure he’s a little bit in love with that he doesn’t think she’s in the best state to be consenting to sexual activity?

In the end, he says it as straightforwardly as he can.

“I don’t want someone to try to take advantage of you when you’ve been drinking, that’s all.” 

Rebecca’s face softens. She hums out a quiet, “You’re sweet.” 

“I just wanna make sure you don’t get hurt. I’d… I dunno what I’d do if you did.”

A curious yet tender expression flits across her face, settles in the sharp green of her half-lidded eyes. She stares, her head cocked as she considers him. And then she blinks and whatever she might’ve been thinking seems to vanish; any outward indication of it, at least. 

“Keeley left before I called you,” she says, the corner of her mouth lifting. “I’m alone now. I wasn’t when I started drinking.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. My virtue is not at risk, Coach Lasso,” she drawls, her voice dropping over his name, and god it hits right to his chest. And then she grows more serious, quieter. “But thank you. For caring enough to say something.”

There’s something about her tone, the way she says it, masked behind the alcohol-induced mumble, that tells him he’s one of few—if any—to care enough. It saddens and angers him in equal measure, the thought of what kinds of things she might’ve been subjected to because no one around her cared enough to speak up. But it also hardens his resolve; he’s determined to continue being that for her from here on out. 

He will always care enough. If he can help it, she won’t ever be put in harm’s way. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” He shakes his head. “I’m always gonna care about you.”

Rebecca looks off to the left, her lip caught between her teeth. When she looks back to the screen, he can tell she’s no longer looking at his face.

“You’re outside,” she says. 

He chuckles at the fact that she’s only just now noticed. “I am. On the porch swing.”

Ted flips the camera around to show her the porch and give her an overview of the swing he’s sitting on. The sunset is nearly over now, just the faintest hint of reds and oranges low on the horizon, but he pans the camera out over the property for her to see anyway. 

He watches her take it in, a look of complete ease slotting in over her features. 

“It’s beautiful,” Rebecca says. She sounds both awed and sleepier than before. 

He wants to suggest she get some rest. He’d say it’s getting late but it’s already late; it’s creeping up on 3:00 for her now and he watches the effects of her girls’ night with Keeley and the wine wash over her in waves. He really should suggest she get some rest. 

Selfishly, though, he wants to keep her here with him. As with him as she can be at the moment, anyway. 

He doesn’t get a chance to make a decision either way, because Rebecca’s leaning back over, taking hold of her wine, and finishing it in one large gulp. And then she places the phone on the couch and he’s suddenly staring at her ceiling. He hears her stand. A low groan escapes, a sound he’s never heard slip from her mouth, and then there’s a soft thud and a cursed, “fuck.”

She follows it up with a faraway, half-baked, “‘m fine.”

When she returns it’s with a full glass and a drunken smile. 

“Shouldn’t you be gettin’ to bed?” he does finally ask, his concern for her well-being overtaking his desire to keep spending this time with her, however strong it may be. 

Rebecca swallows a swig of wine and then frowns. “You don’t want to keep me company anymore?” she asks, sounding so goddamn sad about it that he feels a genuine stab of pain right in the fleshy space between his ribs. “‘m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I’ll let you go.”

“No,” he rushes out, terrified she’s going to end the call. Her eyes cut to his, unsure in a way that he doesn’t like. “Rebecca, no. I always want to keep you company, okay?” 

Again his cheeks flame with the utterance, but it does seem to affect her, too. 

“Yeah? You’re not just—” She pauses to hiccup. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Of course I mean it,” he promises. “There’s—well, if I’m bein’ honest, there’s not a single scenario where I don’t wanna keep you company.” 

She blinks, surprised. He hopes that’s just a result of the wine and Rebecca’s not genuinely baffled to hear that he, in no uncertain terms, loves spending time with her. He’s been trying to keep his feelings for her under wraps so as not to risk the relationship they do have—it’s too special to him, too important for him to go and step out on that branch when there’s a chance it cracks beneath his weight. He worried he was being too obvious still, her effect on him harder and harder to conceal these days, but now he wonders if he’s been doing too good a job.

“Oh,” she exhales. 

“I can just see you’re tired, darlin’, that’s all.” 

The endearment slips out without his permission and for a second he curses himself, but then Rebecca’s eyes glisten with something other than sadness and he relaxes. She doesn’t look uneasy or otherwise bothered by it, so he decides that maybe letting a piece of his heart ride shotgun on his sleeve wouldn’t be so terrible.

He knows, no matter what, she’ll handle it with care. 

She always does. 

“I am,” she admits with a tiny sway. He wills her to remain upright. “But… a while longer?”

Ted’s chest warms. 

“I’ll stay on as long as you want me to,” he vows. Her eyes glitter, her head dipping as her lips lift gently around the edges, and his heart lifts. 

True to his word, he stays. 

There’s a lot of silence, the backdrop for Rebecca quietly finishing off yet another glass of wine. She lets her eyes fall closed here and there but they always flutter back open to something that’s more like a squint; she shoots him a crooked smile and rolls her head on the back of her couch cushion, and the honest to god yearning to be right there with her is overwhelming. 

When that glass clatters against her coffee table as she puts it down, Ted speaks up.

“How ‘bout you go get some water now, huh?” 

The amount of wine she’s gone through is likely to give her one heck of a hangover. She’s significantly more inebriated now than she was when she first initiated the call, the increasingly frequent hiccup or giggle a tell-tale sign. It’s as adorable as it is new to him, and he memorizes each little sound she makes. 

Rebecca whines. “I don’t want to. Don’t make me.”

He bites back a laugh. 

“You’ll thank yourself in the morning,” he tries to entice her. “Think of how nice it’ll be to wake up without a raging headache.”

She sighs like he’s burdened her with a lifetime of heaviness, but she manages to slink off of the couch. She carries him into the kitchen, her stride unsteady enough to make him wobble along the way. Opening what he can only assume is the freezer door, Rebecca peers around inside; he’s not sure what she’s looking for—surely ice wouldn’t be hiding—but she purses her lips and sets the phone down in front of her. 

He continues to watch.

From this angle he has yet another clear shot of her very low-cut cleavage, especially so with the way she’s bent over, and he lowers his gaze to be respectful. She has no idea she’s giving him a show; he isn’t going to take advantage of that. 

He hears rustling, a bag of some sort being plucked from a shelf and plopped onto the counter beside the fridge. There’s a brief silence, the distinct sound of a refrigerator door closing, and suddenly Ted is in the dark. 

“Rebecca?” he calls, but gets nothing in response.

There’s more noise—more crackling of whatever that bag was, the clinking of a glass against her countertop. At least she’s getting herself some water. Or, what he truly hopes is water. 

He chuckles, shaking his head a little. He hears Rebecca’s voice, more faint now that he’s, ya know, locked inside her freezer. 

“Ted?” she calls, sounding considerably confused. 

His laughter dies off at the distress in her voice on the next echo of his name, like she’s genuinely dismayed about where he is. He calls her name again, but she’s shouting his at the same time and he doesn’t think she can hear him.

“Ted?” Again, she tries. “Where did you go? Ted.”

“Rebecca,” he yells a little louder. He’s sure the neighbors are getting an earful, pressing their faces up to their windows to see what all the ruckus is about. “Open the freezer, boss.”

A beat of silence, and then, a little closer: “Ted?”

“Polo,” he calls out. 

“What?” she says, sounding so bewildered he starts laughing again. “Where the hell have you gone?”

The slight slur to her voice makes this all the more entertaining, though it adds to the pang in his chest, too. He wishes he could be there to see here like this for real. Uninhibited, less guarded. He thinks, maybe, she’d let him hold her. 

“Follow the sound of my voice.”

She does, and after a minute or two she opens the freezer. Light floods in first, and then her face fills the screen, her brows drawn down and her lips quirked. 

“What the fuck are you doing in there?” she asks, as if she didn’t put him there and he’s not just a man on a phone screen.

“Ya know, I’m not too sure, but if you could take me out I’d appreciate it. It’s gettin’ kinda cold in here.”

Rebecca laughs and he catches an affectionate roll of her eyes before his view shifts. She pops something into her mouth and he can hear the faint crunch. 

“Whatcha got there?” 

“Frozen blueberries,” she says, voice muted by the frozen fruit already in her mouth. 

Opening her palm, she tries to angle her hand to show him her haul. Ted gets a shaky glimpse of a pile of blueberries—that he would not have been able to identify had she not told him what they were—for approximately three seconds before, as he probably could have predicted, said blueberries begin to roll off her hand and onto the floor. 

Rebecca lets out a quiet gasped ah! that he finds absolutely adorable as she closes her fist to salvage the remaining blueberries. 

“Blueberries overboard,” he chuckles. 

“Fucking circular fruit,” she mutters as she shoves the blueberries in her palm into her mouth. 

That makes him laugh, a loud sound. He gets a nice view of the top of her head as she bends to pick up the fallen soldiers. He thinks he hears her say something else under her breath, a muffled should’ve just eaten the bloody banana, and his stomach clenches. 

He is mighty grateful she chose the blueberries. He respects the heck out of Rebecca, so he doesn’t think he’d have been able to sit here in good conscience and watch her drunkenly eat a banana. 

Except now he’s thinking about it and— 

Thankfully, Rebecca stands back up and pops back into frame with a dramatic exhale. And then all he’s thinking about is the effortless beauty she possesses and the way she lifts her now free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. She still has all of her rings on, he notices. 

“Blueberry crisis averted?” he asks.

Rebecca looks back at the camera then. “Narrowly.” 

She licks at the corner of her mouth, eyes trailing off to the side. She reaches over, and then he can see the rim of a glass peek into frame.

“That’s water, right?” he asks when she lifts it to her lips, taking a large mouthful. 

“Mm. Tequila.” 

“Rebecca,” he huffs, a fond and mildly chastising sound. “At least chase it with some water?”

In response, she makes a show of chugging the remainder of her glass. He tries not to watch the way her throat works around her swallow, fails miserably, and then blinks it away. When she slams the glass onto the counter—a little too roughly, the glass clattering in a way that has him wincing—he has to admit he’s amazed by the lack of reaction. 

She took that down like water. 

He’s impressed. And kinda aroused. Also a little concerned. 

In the dim lighting of her kitchen, Rebecca smirks. “That was water.” 

Her smile is blinding and he finds himself taken. Truly captivated by her. 

She yawns then, hiding it lazily behind the back of her hand, and he offers a small smile. “I really think you should be headin’ on to bed now, boss.”

Rebecca hums a noncommittal sound. The picture starts teetering again as she exits the kitchen; he expects her to head back into the living room, but instead she veers to the right. He doesn’t know what’s happening until it’s clear that she’s going upstairs. Very slowly. The phone lowers and he can see her grip on the railing, purposeful as she maneuvers herself up one step at a time.

He catches glimpses of her as she walks, but nothing clear; there’s a bit of her arm, bare, and then flashes of bedroom furniture that alerts him to the fact that she is in fact in her room now. 

When the camera finally focuses back on her, she’s in the bathroom. 

He’s propped up on something, the angle low as he’s looking up at her; from where the camera sits, Ted has a view from just below her collar bones and upward. She’s leaning against the sink, her eyes closed, and she takes a deep breath. 

“Everything okay?”

Rebecca blinks, then glances down at him. “Mm,” she hums, rummaging around with squinted eyes. “Taking off my makeup. Don’t look.”

She says, as if she didn’t place him there to see.

“How come?”

“I look different,” she sighs as she swipes at her eyes with a small cotton pad. It’s slow-going, her movements calculated and thought-out so as not to poke an eye out with one of those pretty manicured nails of hers. 

That hurts, the idea that she doesn’t think she’s equally as breathtaking without makeup. He hasn’t seen her without it, not really, but doesn’t need to have to know it. It’s Rebecca, it’s just fact. She could never be anything but. 

“You look beautiful.”

Rebecca snorts. It’s unbearably cute. 

“Don’t be—” She hiccups again, her chest rattling with it. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“I’m just being truthful.”

“You haven’t seen me without makeup,” she says after a long beat. She’s moved onto some kind of facial cleanser now, and he’s impressed that she can even do all of this in her current state. 

He’s lucky if he brushes his teeth when he’s drunk.

Ted shrugs to himself. “Doesn’t matter,” he says easily. “You’re still you without all the makeup, and you’re beautiful.” 

Rebecca’s movements falter, unsteady. She finishes washing her face, pats it dry with a small towel, and then goes on to apply some more lotions or serums or whatever it is she’s got in those tiny glass bottles with the droppers. 

When she’s done, she picks up the phone and holds the camera in front of her face. 

“See?” 

Her eyes are tired and red from the alcohol and the rubbing, her cheeks flushed, her skin glowing from whatever she’s just put onto it. And yet, contrary to what she might think… 

“I do,” he says. “I don’t know what you’re seein’ when you look in the mirror, but you look just as gorgeous as you did five minutes ago, Rebecca.”

He thinks to dial it back, because showing a little piece of his heart was one thing, being too much is another, but in the end it’s a risk he’s willing to take for her benefit. He refuses to let her sit here and think so poorly of herself. If he could, he’d stand behind her in front of that mirror and point out every little piece of her that makes her beautiful. He can’t do that, though, that’s not his place, so this will have to do. He’ll just have to hope that she believes him.

She doesn’t seem to know what to do with that. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, her bottom lip pinned between her teeth a second later; her eyes are shinier now when they look back at him and something tender releases into his bloodstream. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs. For as quietly as she speaks, he can hear how genuinely she means it. 

He feels grateful to be witnessing her like this, to be allowed to. This Rebecca is so soft, so unlike the woman he greets in her office most days, the one with all the armor to protect herself from the world, and yet she’s still the same somehow. 

“Go on then,” he whispers, offering a small smile. “You gotta get some rest. Sleep off all that wine, yeah?”

She lets the phone rest on her bed—he assumes—while she changes, and he listens with a soft chuckle as she fumbles around in her drawers, as she stumbles in her attempt to shimmy out of her dress and into her pajamas. 

He expects something satin for no other reason than it feels like her style, but when she reappears she’s wearing a t-shirt. It’s endearing in a way he can’t quite put a name to. 

Rebecca settles beneath her comforter, a sigh escaping her lips the moment her head hits the pillow. He smiles as he watches on, observing while she gets comfortable. 

It’s incredibly intimate for them and he cherishes the moment, once again feeling incredibly privileged that she feels comfortable enough to pull back some of her layers with him. He has to thank the wine for this little step in their relationship, knowing this entire evening likely wouldn’t have happened without it. 

He just hopes she won’t regret being so unveiled with him when she wakes. 

“Go to sleep, boss,” he whispers. 

Her eyelids begin to droop some more as she loses the battle against it. Rebecca makes a contented little noise in response, precious. “I wish you were here,” she murmurs drowsily. 

Ted’s heart skips a beat, something impossibly hopeful burrowing into his chest. But he has to remind himself that she’s drunk; she wouldn’t be saying this sober, and she might not even remember it at all in the morning. 

“I’m right here,” he says. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” 

She hums. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he tells her. She’s already nearly gone. “Sweet dreams, Rebecca.” 

Ted FaceTimes her in the morning, just after 2:00 in the afternoon her time. 

The call connects and he can’t help but laugh at the way the screen is just a shot of the ceiling. Rebecca’s stifled, groggy voice comes a second later, an exhaled, “Hello?”

She sounds rough. 

“You still sleepin’, boss?” he asks, both amused and sympathetic. 

Rebecca groans. “I am sleeping again,” she corrects, matter-of-fact. 

“Ah. Hangover nap?” 

“Yes,” she says. She must have her face smushed into the pillow because he can barely hear her. “And you’re interrupting.”

He just chuckles. “I can let ya get back to sleep.”

But she sighs out a soft, “No, don’t.”

Ted smiles. “Alrighty then,” he says. “Rebecca?”

“Hm?”

“You do know this is a FaceTime, right?”

Her signature Christ tells him that she did not, in fact, know that it was a FaceTime. There’s some shuffling as she reaches over, and he catches a glimpse of her room as she tries to right the phone. A small blip of her far wall, the dresser there, a corner of the window, and then it shifts to the top of her blankets and, finally, the camera flips around to land on Rebecca.

She’s still in bed, the comforter pulled up to her chin and her cheek—as he thought—half pressed into her pillow. Her hair’s a wild halo of blonde fanned out around her, rogue strands falling into her face with the way she’s positioned. 

Her eyes are half-open and heavy, lashes dark and lids hooded, and he thinks it might be the most charming thing he’s ever seen. 

“Good morning,” he grins, amused by the low moan and wrinkled nose that gets from her. “That bad?”

“I’ve had worse,” she admits. Her eyes are now closed. “I’m just fucking exhausted.” 

“Go on then, get back to your restorative slumber. But real quick, one thing.” She makes a small noise in the back of her throat, already drifting, and he calls her name softly to catch her attention. “Hey, Rebecca?” 

She hums, eyes fluttering open to peer sleepily into the camera. 

“Just in case you don’t remember, I miss you, too.”

A soft smile blossoms, the crinkles at the edges of her eyes deepening. 

It’s all he sees long after he ends the FaceTime. 

Chapter Text

Mae’s voice on the other end of his phone surprises him. 

“Ted, good,” she says. He can hear the bustle of the pub in the background, the gentle lull of patron’s voices. “There any way you can come down here?”

“Somethin’ the matter?” 

Mae’s never called him before. He’s not even sure he knew she had his number.

Her voice fades as he imagines she pulls away from the phone to speak to someone. “Honey, drink some of that water. No, not gin. Water.” She exhales and then her voice is closer. “Sorry about that. Rebecca’s here and I think she could use a friendly face to help her get home.”

The second Rebecca’s name leaves Mae’s mouth he’s moving, pushing off of the couch and searching for where he’d toed off his Nikes earlier. As he’s stepping into them and grabbing his puffer from the rack, he asks, “Is she okay?”

“Seems like she’s had a long day,” is what Mae says after a brief pause, which isn’t exactly the reassurance he was looking for. His silence must clue her into his concern, because she adds on, “She’ll be just fine until you get here, dear. Don’t worry.”

Well, he’s already worried. But he knows she’s not in harm’s way, not with Mae there.

“Appreciate you, Mae.”

His eyes are drawn to her the second he steps through the door, that familiar head of blonde he’d recognize in any crowded room. She’s sitting at the end of the bar, half-slumped over the countertop. Her head is propped in her open palm, her elbow seemingly keeping her upright. 

He meets Mae’s gaze as he makes his way over and gives a meaningful nod, one she returns.

Ted slides up beside her. “Fancy seein’ you here, boss.”

Rebecca whips her head around, the motion disrupting her balance. He worries she’s going to fall off the stool and he reaches an arm out just in case, ready to prevent her from tipping over, but she manages to stay right where she is. 

It takes a second for her eyes to focus on him, but when they do they brighten, widening in time with the smile on her face. It warms his chest, the genuine happiness he seems to inspire. 

“Ted,” she drags out, head tilting further into her hand. “What’re you doing here?”

“A little birdie told me you might need some friendly company.”

She frowns. “Mae doesn’t let birds in here.”

He just barely holds in his snort, though his smile betrays at least some of his amusement. 

“Let’s just say she made an exception this one time, hm?” 

Her nose wrinkles and she leans over the bar, calling out to Mae. When the woman turns, Rebecca tells her very matter-of-factly, “I don’t think you should let birds in here. Least of all if they talk. ‘s fucking freaky.” 

Mae tosses the bar towel over her shoulder and nods. “I’ll keep that in mind, love.” 

Satisfied, Rebecca settles back into her seat. Ted props both elbows on the bartop and turns his head to face her, his eyes falling to the glass in front of her. 

“Is that gin or water you got there?” he asks, nodding to her drink when she looks at him in question. 

Staring at the glass longingly, she wraps her fingers around it. “Water,” she says, so much dejection in her voice it nearly makes him laugh. “Mae won’t give me another gin and tonic even though,” she lets out a quiet hiccup, “even though I’ve only had two.”

Behind her, Mae catches his eye and holds up four fingers. 

Ah. 

“Well that don’t sound right,” he starts, empathizing with the pout on her face. He leans in closer when she sways a little too much on her stool for his liking. “How ‘bout you finish off that water and we get you outta here?”

Ted’s trying to catch Mae’s attention to close out Rebecca’s tab when her head rolls, a slow smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. One he doesn’t quite catch. 

“Are you trying to take me home, Ted?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. He glances down at her then and it’s only when her eyes widen and the smirk falls off her face that he realizes her tease went completely over his head in his distraction. His cheeks flush. “I mean—I’m tryin’ to you get you home. Safely. Not—I’m not tryin’ to take…”

Something flashes in the fogginess of her eyes for a split second, something that looks suspiciously like disappointment, but she’s drunk and he can’t allow himself to focus on that, let alone allow it sprout even the tiniest sprig of hope. 

It’s gone as quickly as it appears anyway. 

“Relax, Coach,” she says, reaching out to pat sloppily at his arm. The motion unsteadies her further and he raises his hand to her back. She sucks in a breath as she continues: “I know you have no designs on my virtue.”

Well, that’s not exactly—

Ted pushes that aside and smiles. Unconsciously, his hand starts rubbing circles between her shoulder blades; she seems to lean into his touch, a bit like a cat, but he could be making that up. 

“C’mon,” he says quietly. “You’ll be a lot more comfortable in some pajamas, don’tcha think?”

Rebecca hums. “I need to…” she starts, shoving her thumb in the direction of the front door even as she says: “Restroom.”

With a small smile, Ted takes hold of her hand and gently twists the direction of her thumb so it’s actually pointing toward the bathrooms. “There ya go.” 

She stares at her hand like it confuses her. “Oh.”

The hand on her back pauses but doesn’t pull off. As she slips from the stool, Ted presses his palm a little firmer to help with her balance. “You gonna be okay? Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick, ‘cause I can—”

“Need to pee.” With a crooked grin, she pats at his shoulder. It comes off as more of a slap with the force she uses, but he knows it’s unintentional. There’s something hazy in her eyes and her words run together a bit when she asks, “Would you like to help with that?”

“Ah. No, that’s uh—nope, all good, you got it there.”

His cheeks pink just a little as he nods, letting his touch fall from her back. Rebecca tilts her head and eyes him for another long moment before she turns away. He watches her until she disappears down the hallway to the bathrooms, and then he sighs, leaning himself against the bar.

“She’ll be all right, love.”

Ted lifts his head to find Mae just on the other side of the bar. She regards him with a knowing look and a kind smile. 

“Am I that obvious?” 

“To an old woman like me? Absolutely.” A bottle manifests out of nowhere and she holds it up in question. “Beer while you wait?”

He chuckles as he accepts the beer. “Thanks, Mae.”

Mae pats his hand. “Just keep caring for each other, dear. You’ll both be just fine.”

With a soft smile, Ted nods. 

In the bathroom, current Rebecca curses this morning’s Rebecca for her outfit of choice. 

There are so many bloody buttons on these trousers and her fingers don’t seem to be in complete working order and she thinks if she doesn’t get them open in the next thirty seconds she’s going to piss on herself. 

Except that’s embarrassing and she forbids it from happening, so she concentrates as hard as she possibly can, gets her fingers to cooperate, and manages to shove the trousers down just in time. She sighs with relief, her eyes slipping closed.

Rebecca sways a little on the toilet, a hand darting out to brace on the stall. Jesus Christ. 

Absolutely fucking criminal how simply standing up makes her head spin. She felt fine at the bar, a pleasant buzz coursing through her system; now, after having made herself vertical, everything seems to be… twisting. Unfortunate. 

It’s a goddamn miracle she kept herself from wobbling on her way from her seat to the bathroom; she’s sure Ted was watching her go, and she knows he worries. 

Ted.

It’s sweet. 

Unnecessary, but sweet. 

Ted is sweet.

Nevertheless, she is aware even beneath the haze of the gin that if she spends too much longer in here that Ted is going to come searching to make sure she’s okay. It’s with this in mind and the desire to not have him walk in on her blundering in the bathroom that she finds the strength to stand back up. 

Miraculously, the buttons on her trousers take at least three minutes less to button than they did to unbutton—which is fortunate, because after the first fumble she truly contemplated just leaving them undone. And that’s only marginally less embarrassing than pissing on the floor. 

She uses her hand on the side of the stall to balance herself as she walks out, stepping up to the sink and immediately gripping the edge. Once she straightens up, she stares at her reflection in the mirror; raising a hand, she tries to fix her hair where a few strands have fallen free from the claw clip. In the end, she just shoves them behind her ear and waves a dismissive wrist. 

As she washes her hands, she thinks about Ted. 

Sweet Ted, who’s waiting out there for her. She smiles when she thinks about it, and she feels a fluttering in her stomach that’s only partly the alcohol. 

She turns off the water and her hands hover in the air, dripping all over the place as she stares dumbly at them for thirty seconds. Slowly, her gaze trails around the bathroom; those disgusting little hand driers are on the wall but she’s read the articles Keeley’s sent her about how sanitary they are and her nose wrinkles. 

Quite frankly she doesn’t think she can stand unsupported long enough to let her hands dry over there anyway. 

Rebecca finds the paper towel dispenser on the other wall—“so bloody far,” she mutters to herself—and stalks up to it, bracing her right forearm on the wall while she paws at the paper towels with the other hand. 

Because her hand is still dripping, her first few attempts at pulling a paper towel free go miserably. Her wet fingers go right through the paper and rip off tiny chunks from the middle, leaving the paper towel looking like she’d taken a fucking bite out of it. 

Rebecca growls pitifully to herself, then lets her forehead press against the tile on the wall for a few moments to compose herself. And to rest, because she’s fucking tired and standing is so exhausting and why is the ground moving?

Eventually she manages to rip off a single paper towel; she dries her hands on the sad, flimsy thing, and balls it up to toss into the bin like it’s personally offended her. 

With one last glance in the mirror, her pink cheeks and glossy lips still intact, Rebecca finally stumbles out of the bathroom. Everything’s a little slow in the way it gets when she’s been drinking and she doesn’t want to make a fool of herself, so she takes smaller, more careful steps. 

As she walks back into the main room, her eyes seek out Ted. Her vision’s a little fuzzy, she’ll admit that much, so she blinks a few times to clear what she thinks she’s seeing. 

But then she realizes that it isn’t the alcohol messing with her. She’s actually seeing what she’s seeing. Ted’s at the bar where she left him an indeterminate amount of time ago, but there’s a woman there now, too. 

A woman with her hand on Ted’s arm. 

A woman who is not her. Because she’s right here. And not over there. 

She should be over there. 

Rebecca feels her skin heat up. It’s warm, so warm, and her stomach drops when the woman’s hand drags down his bicep to land on his forearm. She thinks her vision blacks out for a moment but she also might’ve just closed her eyes. 

Jury’s out on that one. 

She hears Ted’s laugh and her vision swims with how quickly she whips her head back to him. It sounds off, but she doesn’t know why or how. It’s wrong. It’s not her Ted laugh. Not her Ted laugh—though she thinks she’s just drunk enough to admit she has one of those too. But her Ted laugh. The laugh she gets out of Ted. 

It’s different and special and a wave of smugness fills her system quickly. She huffs, infinitely pleased that this mystery woman couldn’t get it out of him. 

Ha. 

And then the woman leans in closer as she speaks to him and something uncomfortable simmers in her gut, mixes with the gin to create something horrible and green. She does not like it. 

It makes her nauseous and her hand flies to her mouth, worried for a split second she might be sick. But then it passes, rolls through. 

Rebecca’s jaw sets even as a tiny pang of hurt settles in her chest. She tries to push past that part, because she doesn’t like it; it’s making her even more unsteady, and she nearly teeters on her heel as she finally reaches the edge of the bar. 

Everything’s tipped on its side a bit, and she reaches out to hold herself on the nearest chair.

Her brain’s foggy and she can feel herself staring, glaring, really, but she can’t stop it. She doesn’t want to, either. She should probably push down on this possessiveness that’s searing through her—she has no claim to it, and if she were sober she wouldn’t be considering anything beyond a tight smile and suppressing her emotions—but it bubbles to the surface too quickly to quell in her current state.

So, Rebecca is working off of pure impulse and loosened inhibitions when she sidles up behind Ted, slides her palm along his back as her arm travels around his shoulders, and leans into him. 

A few minutes after Rebecca disappears into the bathroom, a woman slips into the space beside him at the bar. He thinks nothing of it at first, not until she angles herself toward him and cranes her neck so she falls into his line of sight. 

“Hi,” she smiles. “I’m Lisa.”

Ted offers a polite smile and says hello, thanking her when she tells him she’s a huge fan of Richmond. For a moment he thinks perhaps his initial instinct was wrong—Lisa’s just complimenting the team and everybody’s efforts this season, that’s all. 

Richmond fans stop him on occasion around town to give him a high five, say hello, or shout a Go Richmond! or Ay, wanker! at him. It’s mostly affectionate these days. All in all, the experiences he has with the people of Richmond are pleasant. 

But then Lisa moves in a little closer and smiles at him in a way that makes it very clear she’s not just doling out compliments for the team. With her arm supported on the bar, she rests her chin in her open palm. 

She tells him he’s more handsome in person and Ted chuckles a bit uncomfortably. 

He turns toward the hallway toward the bathroom, seeking Rebecca out, but there’s still no sign of her. He frowns, letting out a quiet breath before he turns back around. 

“Well I uh—thank you, that’s real kind,” he says to Lisa’s expectant face, because he doesn’t want to be rude. 

Objectively speaking, Lisa’s a beautiful woman. Tall, blonde hair, bright blue eyes. She’s at least ten years his junior and while it’s flattering to some degree that a good looking woman of her age finds him attractive, it’s just not at all what he’s looking for. 

Again, as if trying to manifest the woman he is looking for, his eyes dart back over his shoulder. 

Still nothing. 

“How about I buy us a round?” he hears, and cuts his gaze back to fluttering eyelashes. 

The last thing he wants to do is offend someone, least of all a Richmond fan, but he’s just not interested. Before he has a chance to find a way to politely let her down, though, her hand is on his arm. 

“Ah, thanks, but I’m still workin’ on this,” is what he says, waving his beer around. It’s mostly empty, but Lisa won’t be able to tell thanks to the placement of the label. 

He watches her mouth open as if to say something, but then she stalls, her attention shifting to something over his right shoulder. A few seconds later, he feels a hand on his back.

Ted knows it’s Rebecca before he even turns to look. 

There’s something about her touch that alights something within him. It’s familiar despite how infrequent it is; it calms him, and he didn’t even realize his shoulders were tense until she had them relaxed. 

“Hi,” she murmurs, a low, purposeful sound. 

His head swivels toward her, his eyes immediately softening as he takes her in. 

“There you are,” he smiles. “I was gettin’ ready to send out a search party.”

It’s been at least fifteen minutes and for a while there Ted was worried that she’d fallen over in the bathroom or something, collapsed in a drunken heap. He knows that’s just his anxiety, always in high gear when it comes to Rebecca, but he’s grateful to see her all the same. 

She lists her body more heavily into his side, like she’s using him for balance, and he shimmies his right arm between their bodies so he can loop his arm around her waist. He can feel the exhale she releases when he does and he leans forward, just a little, to get a better look at her. 

Something’s… off. 

There’s a pinch between her brows and a tightness to her jaw that wasn’t there before she’d gone to the bathroom. Quickly, the worry returns. Did something happen between here and the bathroom? Did something happen in the bathroom?

“Everything okay?” he asks softly, eyes on her. The hand on her waist squeezes and she shivers, jolts a little. That does not make him feel better, nor does the way she won’t meet his eyes. 

“Brilliant,” she says, the one word coming out slow and dragged. The smile she plasters on her face is bright and fake and a little dangerous. 

“You sure?”

Rebecca hums. Her cheeks are flushed. When she exhales, he can smell the gin on her breath. 

She doesn’t answer him, but after a beat she does speak. “Who’re you?” she asks. 

Her head tilts and she seems to overcorrect with the movement because it jostles her entire body; her temple nearly knocks into his and he adjusts his grip on her waist. Unbothered, Rebecca’s hand slides over his shoulder to land at the back of his neck in a move that has the hairs there standing on end.

He’s confused by the question and follows her line of sight, almost blinking in surprise. He’d forgotten about Lisa the second Rebecca reappeared. 

The woman’s just staring, wide-eyed and taken aback. Her eyes bounce between the two of them, but then her lips roll together and she shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you two…” she starts, her sentence fading into nothing. She looks at Rebecca and nods. “Have a good night.” To Ted, she says: “It was nice to meet you, Coach Lasso.”

Ted, baffled, manages: “Thanks for your support, Lisa. We all appreciate it.”

Lisa nods and, with one last glance toward Rebecca, promptly scampers away. 

As soon as she’s gone, Rebecca’s canted head drops to his shoulder for a brief moment. And then her touch falls away, she drags her head back up, and she lowers herself onto the stool to her right. Ted’s arm remains around her waist for a few moments before he removes it in favor of stepping in front of her. 

He leans against the bar and observes her. She isn’t looking at him, her head resting in her open palm.

Ted eyes her, looks to the front door where Lisa just exited, and then back. He isn’t sure what just happened, but the heavy sigh Rebecca lets out re-focuses his attention. 

“I had Mae refill your water for you,” he says. “You wanna down this before we head out?”

With a quiet mm, she lifts her eyes to his. “I’d rather another gin and tonic,” she says, the edges of her lips tugging into a smile. A more familiar smile, soft around the corners. 

Attempting to entice her, he says, “I think water would make you feel better.”

“Feel fine.”

“Right now, maybe—and I’m glad for that. But I don’t wanna see you fightin’ a monster hangover headache later on ‘cause you’re dehydrated.”

“I’m hungry,” is what he gets in response.  

Ted chuckles, smiling at the half-lidded look she shoots him. Adorable. 

“Have you eaten anything?” 

He fears he knows the answer before she gives it. 

“Lunch,” she mumbles. 

It’s 10pm. 

“Rebecca,” he frowns. But her eyes slip closed and he knows now isn’t the time to press. Instead, he asks, “D’you want Mae to box somethin’ up for you to go?”

Rebecca shakes her head. “Biscuits?” It’s a question as she peers up at him from beneath those dark lashes of hers, her eyes bright and her cheeks increasingly rosy. 

“You want biscuits?” 

She nods, short and curt. “Yes.”

That warms his chest, the fact that it’s his biscuits—well, her biscuits, really, because they’ve always been hers—she’s asking for. 

“Tell ya what,” he says, his fingers tapping against her shoulder blade. “If you let me get you outta here and back home, I’ll make sure you get some biscuits.” 

“Deal,” she says. She’s halfway off the stool when she halts, a hand pressed to his chest. He tries to ignore the burn of her palm through his sweater. “They have to be my biscuits.”

Ted smiles. “Wasn’t gonna give ya anything else, don’t worry.”

Satisfied by this, she allows him to help her down from the stool. His steadying hand now rests loosely at her waist again, just in case. He tries once more to get her to finish off the water but she waves him off; he’ll just pour her a large glass when he gets her back to her house. 

When Rebecca twists in an attempt to grab her coat from the back of her chair, he reaches around her. “I got it,” he says, lifting it free. “You want it on?” 

“No.”

“You sure? It’s kinda chilly out there.”

“I’m hot,” she says, tugging at the non-existent collar of her top. It is, in fact, a v-neck cut, and she’s doing nothing more than lifting the fabric away from her skin to show more of her chest. 

Ted reaches out to catch her wrist, stopping her from giving the men at the other end of the bar a show. “Okay,” he agrees. He drapes her jacket in the crook of his elbow. “If you get cold when we go outside, lemme know.”

She raises a lazy hand, patting at his cheek. “You’re sweet. Sweet Ted,” she sighs. 

His skin burns. 

He clears his throat and catches Mae’s attention over Rebecca’s shoulder. He ignores her knowing smirk, nodding his thanks and offering a farewell salute. Carefully, he guides Rebecca away from the bar and toward the door, using his free hand to hold it open for them both. 

Despite her earlier unsteadiness, she isn’t too wobbly on her heels as they walk and that’s a relief. There is a moment or two when she stumbles, her body listing into his as he tightens his hold on her to keep her upright, but she does stay on her feet. 

They’re quiet on their journey across the green, though halfway there a particularly frigid gust of wind blows by and Rebecca tucks herself closer into his side. 

“You want your coat?” he asks, hoping his voice sounds more even than he feels. The wind might be whipping but her body is incredibly warm against him. 

Rebecca shakes her head in spite of the way her shoulders hike up to her ears. “You’re warm,” she mumbles. 

“Alright then,” he whispers, something heavy and solid coiling low in his gut. “We’re almost there, okay?”

She hums in acknowledgement. 

For the rest of the walk he holds her, trying to use his own body to shield her from the wind. He runs his hand up and down her arm to generate at least a little bit more warmth, and for a moment he wonders if he’s crossing some type of line, but Rebecca doesn’t seem bothered; instead, she inches even closer with each step and her shoulders slowly relax. 

When they get to her house, he waits for her to pull her key from the clutch she thankfully managed to remember—he didn’t see it on the bar, so he certainly wouldn’t have known to look for one to grab it. 

“You gonna be okay to head upstairs and get changed?” Ted asks once the door is closed behind them. 

She looks sleepier in the bright light of her entryway, her eyelids heavier. They’re still shiny but a little less clouded, though, like the briskness of the air managed to sober her up some. 

With a soft smile, she nods. “Yes, I’ll be fine,” she says, her voice coming out slow, like she has to concentrate on the words. She gets to the third step before she turns around, stumbling a little concerningly in the process. Okay, so not too sobered up. He nearly lunges forward to catch her, his hands instinctively lifting at the sight. “You don’t have to stay.”

Ted shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “I promised you biscuits.”

“S’pose you did,” she says then, nodding slightly. Before she takes care to turn back around and head upstairs, she looks at him. “Ted?”

“Yeah?”

“‘m sorry,” she exhales. 

He takes a step closer to the staircase. “Sorry for what?”

Rebecca waves a hand, and he worries for her lack of hold on the railing. He moves a little closer, eyes on her just in case she starts to sway again. 

“Ruining your… your shot,” she says eventually. “With bloody Brittany Murphy.”

Ted’s brows furrow. “I’m pretty sure Brittany Murphy’s dead, boss.”

Her eyes fall closed and she gestures vaguely, a flippant flick of her wrist. “Whatever her fucking name was,” she mutters. She leans closer to the railing and he really wishes she’d take hold of it again. 

It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realize what she’s getting at. Younger woman, blonde. He wonders if Brittany Murphy had blue eyes and then shakes his head. Unimportant. 

“Lisa?” he asks, the woman’s name nearly forgotten by now. 

Rebecca grumbles and he takes that as a yes. He regards her, taking in the roll of her lips and her now vice-grip on the railing. 

Ted’s mouth curves into something soft. “Were you jealous?” 

It’s a tease, a lighthearted jest, but there’s at least some genuine curiosity to the question. 

She doesn’t answer, but he swears there’s a pretty pink to her cheeks as her eyes lower, staring intently somewhere near his feet. When they lift back to his face, they roam, assessing. 

Her manicured nails tap against the railing, and she offers the tiniest of smiles. Not an answer, but kind of an answer at the same time. Whatever it is, it has his heart kicking in his chest and warmth spreading along his skin. 

As she turns to head upstairs, Ted calls out. “Rebecca?”

She looks back, tired eyes on him. He hesitates for a split second, second-guessing, but then he decides to go for honesty. 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he tells her. Ensuring he has her attention, he adds on: “I wasn’t interested in a shot with her.” 

There’s a hint of surprise in the gentle widening of her eyes, but he swears there’s relief in the relaxation of her shoulders. With a soft nod, she finally makes her way upstairs. 

He stands there and watches until Rebecca’s out of sight, both because he wants to make sure she makes it to the second floor safely and he also can’t seem to move his feet. Only once he hears her puttering around in her bedroom above does he release a heavy breath, his head tipping back and his eyes slipping closed. 

Well.

That was something. 

What, exactly, he can’t be sure. But he thinks… he thinks Rebecca was jealous. He just wishes he knew whether it was true jealousy because she might harbor some of the same feelings for him that he has for her, or if it was somehow fueled by the gin. 

Rolling up his sleeves, he makes his way into Rebecca’s kitchen. He’s never been in here before, but he imagines it’ll be simple enough to find what he needs. These ovens are massive, holy moly. He could make like eight batches of biscuits at once in these things. 

He gets to work investigating her cabinets, only focusing on the things he’s looking for. He doesn’t want her to think he’s in here snooping or anything. Not that he thinks she’s got contraband hiding in her kitchen, ‘course, but it’s the principle. 

Rebecca’s kitchen is pretty bare bones and he makes a mental note to talk to her about the importance of having a stocked fridge. He’d be more than happy to bring her some homemade food, make sure she’s eating well enough, but he doesn’t want to overstep. 

He’s grateful that her biscuit recipe is fairly simple because she does seem to have everything he needs for them. Score. 

The dough is halfway finished when he hears a loud thud from upstairs and his heart ricochets into his throat. He completely ignores the dish towel within reach and wipes his doughy hands onto his pants in his haste to retreat from the kitchen. 

“Rebecca? You okay?” he calls from the bottom of the stairs.

His heart rate doesn’t slow back down until he hears her eventual, hoarse shout of, “’m fine.”

She doesn’t give him more than that, but he presses his hand to his chest and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t think she’d lie if she was on the floor bleeding or something, so, whatever the thunk was, she’s fine. 

Ted returns to the kitchen, and by the time Rebecca’s shuffling can be heard on the staircase the biscuits are in the oven. 

“What’re you doing?” she asks when she appears in the doorway. 

He swivels at the sound of her voice, an automatic smile in place. His stomach flutters when he actually looks at her—she’s changed into a pair of lounge pants, paired with an oversized sweater and a loose cardigan she pulls tighter around her body. Her hair remains in a wild tangle of curls framing her face but she’s scrubbed her makeup off, too, her face bare. 

She looks cozy and oh so beautiful. 

When he doesn’t respond right away, Rebecca dips her head self-consciously. “Told you I look different,” she mumbles.

It doesn’t even click for a minute, not until he remembers their FaceTime call a few months ago. 

“Hey, no,” he says, taking a step forward but not reaching for her. “I believe I’ve already told you that you look beautiful no matter what.”

Rebecca lifts her head, then lists to the left so her temple rests against the doorframe. “Your staring tells me otherwise.”

Quietly, he says, “I sure as heck wasn’t starin’ because you look bad, Rebecca.”

Those tired eyes of hers travel around his face, her lips parted just so.

“Oh.”

Ted clears his throat. He might refuse to let her think he finds her bare face undesirable, and it’s possible she might have some feelings about other women hitting on him, but he won’t say anything else. Not now, not while she’s drunk. He’s been toeing the line a little tonight with his comments, but he won’t do anything more—it’s not fair to either of them. 

Flattening out the non-existent wrinkles from his sweater, he takes a deep breath. “To answer your question,” he starts, switching gears. “I’m waitin’ for your biscuits to finish in the oven.”

“They’re… in the oven?”

“Sure are.” Checking his watch, he smiles. “They should be done in about ten minutes.”

Rebecca moves further into the kitchen, her arms still holding tightly around her body. “You’re making them?” she asks, a curious furrow between her brows. 

“Well, yeah. Didja think I had some stashed in your house and didn’t tell ya?” he muses. 

It’s a light question, one that makes him chuckle, but the amusement falters the second he realizes Rebecca isn’t laughing. Her nose wrinkles and then, horrifyingly, her face crumbles. 

The tears in her eyes confuse him at the same time they worry him. He’s beside her in one long stride, his hand at her back. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, using his free hand to move her hair from her face. 

Rebecca flattens her lips and they twist to the side in her attempt to stave off the sudden tears. When she looks at him, her eyes damp, his heart clenches in his chest. 

“Rebecca?” 

She sniffles. “You’re baking my biscuits.”

“Yeah, honey,” he nods, the endearment rolling off his tongue of its own accord. It seems to make Rebecca’s chin wobble that little bit more and, well, he doesn’t love that. “Should I not have done that? I’m sorry, boss, it’s just that you asked for ‘em and I—”

Rebecca throws herself at him, her arms winding around his neck and her chin hooked over his shoulder. He lets out an involuntary oof with the surprise; the motion is sloppy, a little disjointed, and she overshoots a little, sending him staggering back a step or two from the force of it. 

Her face shifts so her nose is pressed into his sweater. “You’re so good,” she murmurs into the fabric, her words muffled as her lips move against him. “So good.” 

Ted just holds her, one hand running a soothing line along her spine, the other cradling near the back of her neck. “Alright,” he whispers, letting out a quiet exhale. 

He’s not used to this. 

It’s not like they don’t touch—they’ll give a short brush to the arm here or there, a squeeze of the hand on occasion—but they don’t do this. He doesn’t think they’ve hugged since last Christmas, their farewell after they both departed the Higgins’ party. 

He likes it, though. 

He likes having her close, likes holding her. He likes the feel of her body against his, warm and soft, the gentle beating of her heart just next to his. 

A few minutes pass and he wonders for a brief moment if she’s dozed off. Her breathing is soft and even against his neck now, her arms draped lazily over his shoulders and crossed behind him. 

But then the buzzer for the oven goes off and she sighs. 

Ted pats her back. “I gotta get those biscuits out for ya before they burn,” he tells her, though he’s reluctant to pull away. 

Rebecca leans back but doesn’t unfold her arms just yet. Face-to-face, her eyes are glassy as they meet his; the sheen of the alcohol mixes with the tears and it reminds him to get her a large glass of water and two pain pills to hopefully stave off the morning’s headache. There’s a dampness that remains on her cheeks and he lifts both hands to her face, thumbs brushing it away. 

She smiles, a wobbly but genuine thing, and he returns it. 

“The biscuits,” he whispers again when neither of them move. 

Rebecca bites down on her cheek and dips her head as she takes a step back, releasing him. Ted moves quickly to turn off the oven and take the tray of biscuits out; he transfers them to the counter and pulls off the oven mitt, placing it back into the drawer where he found it.

“We gotta let ‘em cool or they’ll crumble to pieces when we cut ‘em,” he explains, his stomach flipping at the pout she gives him. “Fifteen minutes tops, think you can handle that?”

With a dramatic sigh, she leans her weight against the island. “If I must.” 

Ted thinks back to her leaning on him, and just now against the doorframe too, and wonders if she’s doing it because it’s difficult to hold herself upright. He frowns. 

“How ‘bout we get you comfy in the living room while we wait?” he suggests, moving forward and cupping her forearm gently. 

“Okay,” she says, but then she steps around him. She doesn’t brush him off, just… moves away, her focus elsewhere. 

“Boss?”

“Drink first,” she mumbles. He hopes she means water, but then he watches as she bypasses both the fridge and the cabinet and heads straight for the wine cabinet. “Yes.” 

She pulls free a bottle of expensive looking wine from what’s obviously a custom wine rack—fancy, he’s gotta give it to her—and holds it up with a triumphant smile.

“You really wanna be mixin’ alcohols?” he asks, even as she roots around in her upper cabinets now for a glass. 

“Mm. Yes.”

Ted shakes his head. “Okay, well, how about this. One glass of wine for one nice big glass of water,” he compromises, reaching around to grab a glass and fill it using her refrigerator’s dispenser. The ice clinks in the glass. 

She pours two glasses of wine and he laughs when she hands him one. “Guess I’m havin’ one too, okay, thanks.” He knocks the water against the back of her hand. “Trade.”

Thankfully, she does accept the water. Looking him in the eye, she takes a pointed sip. 

“Happy?” she asks, amusement dancing in her eyes. 

“I’m gonna need you to finish that whole glass, and probably a second one, too, but I am, yes. Thank you kindly.”

The image of Rebecca double fisting her wine and water is as adorable as it is hilarious. He does finally guide her carefully into the living room, ensuring that she makes it onto the couch without spilling either of her beverages. Once she’s settled, he places his wine down on the coffee table.

“Has it been fifteen minutes?” she asks, her head angled so her cheek is flush against the couch cushion. The glass of wine is in a precarious position, so he reaches down to gently right it. 

Ted chuckles. “I think it’s been more like five, but I’ll go check anyway, okay?”

Rebecca smiles up at him and he thinks he’d do just about anything to keep that look on her face.

When he returns to the living room with a small plate of biscuits that in reality could have used another ten minutes of cooling, Rebecca’s huddled in the corner of the couch. She has one leg tucked beneath her body and the other bent up to her chest. The throw blanket from the back of the couch is now wrapped around her shoulders, and he smiles at the way her hair’s been freed from its clip and is now stuck beneath the hem. 

She glances up when he rounds the couch, her eyes immediately falling to the plate in his hand. They widen, brightening as she lets out a quiet little gasp that hits straight to his chest.

“Biscuits, as promised,” he says as he hands them over. 

Rebecca takes them with the hand not holding her wine and lifts them just beneath her nose. She inhales deep, the same way she does most days in her office, and her eyes slip closed. When they flutter back open, they bounce between the plate and the wine.

He fails to bite back the amused quirk of his lips as he watches her try to figure out how to have both, her nose scrunching the longer she looks from the biscuits to the glass. In the end, Rebecca takes a considerable gulp of wine, leans forward to put the glass down, and then shoves half a biscuit into her mouth.

“Fuck me,” she sighs, her words muffled with biscuit. Her eyes are closed again when she says, all garbled, “You are a bloody godsend, Ted Lasso.”

“Takes one to know one, boss.”

Ted takes a seat beside her and sips slowly at his own wine. There are reruns of Bake Off on the television, so he settles in and splits his attention between the screen and Rebecca, who munches on her biscuits and continues to drink her wine. 

She does also take sips of the water in between, which makes him smile. The glass is nearly finished, so he hopes she’s feeling at least a bit more even. 

He could leave. He probably should leave, now that he’s gotten Rebecca home safely and made good on his promise of biscuits. There’s really no reason for him to be here now.

Except that he doesn’t want to go, not until he knows she’ll drink one more glass of water and take some pain pills and get to bed okay. 

Something else has also been nagging at him ever since Mae called him. He expected to show up to the Crown & Anchor and find Rebecca and Keeley, or at least find out that Keeley had recently left, but according to Mae Rebecca was there alone.

After about twenty minutes spent in a relatively comfortable silence, Ted speaks.

“Rebecca?” 

She hums, looking over at him. Both her wine and biscuits have been put onto the table; the wine is half gone, and she’s made it through at least three biscuits. There’s more exhaustion in the crinkles around her eyes and he feels bad for bringing this up now instead of insisting she get some rest. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

If he’s honest, he kind of expects a rebuttal. He expects the typical I’m fine that she’s so quick to throw out whenever someone asks if she’s okay. 

What he doesn’t expect is the purse of her lips and the quiet, “I don’t know, Ted. Am I?”

Ted blinks. “I… I don’t know. That’s why I’m askin’.”

Rebecca tilts her head back, her eyes trained on the ceiling. He watches her blink a few times in rapid succession, her tongue darting out to lick her lips, and his chest tightens. 

In her silence, he asks, “Did something happen?” 

Something brought her to the pub tonight. As far as he’s aware, it isn’t typically like her to go drinking and get drunk alone in the middle of the week. And it’s that something that makes his skin prickle. 

When Rebecca looks back at him, tears in her eyes and her bottom lip pinned between her teeth, his stomach bottoms out. He can feel it racing, thumping roughly against his ribs. 

“Yes,” she tells him, her voice quiet and thin. “Something did happen.”

He doesn’t move closer to her, despite how badly he wants to. His hand lifts, like he might reach out for her, but it just hovers in the air between them before it falls back into his lap. She hasn’t seemed bothered by his touch tonight, and she’s been initiating it too, but he doesn’t know what’s happened and he doesn’t want to… overwhelm her or make her uncomfortable. 

“Okay,” he says, slowly and calmly. “I’m here, Rebecca. No matter what it is, you don’t have to carry it alone, okay?”

He’s aiming for comfort but, to his utter horror, it seems to make things worse. Her lips press together and tears fill more quickly against her waterline, a few rogue drops slipping free and sliding over the apples of her cheeks. 

Dread begins to fill in his veins as worst-case scenarios cycle through his mind. 

“I might,” she says, nodding a little disjointedly. 

“No,” he insists. Firm. “It doesn’t matter what it is—you will never have to go through it alone.” 

“You can’t help me with anything if you’re gone, Ted.” Her voice isn’t loud, and there’s a wet quality to it, but there’s power behind it. 

It takes him aback. 

His brows draw down. “What?” 

“Earlier,” Rebecca starts, hiccuping around the word before she can continue. “You said you… you said you didn’t think you were making any difference here.”

This conversation has taken such a turn he doesn’t even know what to do with it. He remembers what he said, sure, but it wasn’t to Rebecca. He doesn’t even think she was in the room. 

He was in the locker room with Beard and he’d made a comment about how maybe he isn’t doing as much good here as he’d hoped. He asked the mostly rhetorical question of: what if he’s done all he can for the team?

“I uh—yeah, I did.” 

“That’s… that’s not true,” she says with a shake of her head. It’s a bad move, because as soon as she stops she slams her eyes shut, takes a deep breath, and plants her hand on the cushion in front of her.

Must’ve made herself dizzy.

“Boss?”

Rebecca waves him off, inhaling deeply through her nose. Her lashes are heavy and damp. 

“Are you thinking of leaving?” she whispers, her voice breaking around the question in a way that both cleaves at his chest and somehow surprises him.

His brows raise. “Leaving?”

“You are, aren’t you.” She says it like a statement and her bottom lip begins to tremble and he can’t do it anymore; he moves closer and places a hand atop hers. Before he can respond, she’s looking over at him with those teary eyes and continuing. “You can’t. You… you can’t leave. You’ve done more good here than you know, all right, and I—”

His hand squeezes hers. “Rebecca, hey, it’s okay—”

“It’s not okay,” she argues, her upper body thrusting forward with the force of it. Her skin is even more reddened now and he really needs to get her to drink some more water. “It’s not—nothing will be okay if you leave, don’t you see that?”

She looks at him like she’s pleading with him to understand, her eyes bouncing between his with a desperation he wants nothing more than to clear away. He finally does lift a hand to her face to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing along her jaw in an attempt to quell the quivering of her chin. 

Before he tends to her current train of thought, something hits him and he needs to confirm:

“Is this the something that happened? Overhearin’ me say that?”

Rebecca sniffs, nods. 

A catch releases in his chest. “Nothing else happened? No one… no one did anything? You’re okay otherwise?” he asks, eyes trailing over her skin, just in case. He’s sure he would’ve noticed anything surface level, but he needs to be certain. 

It takes her a few moments to register what he’s asking, her eyes just remaining on his and blinking. But then, after a bit of a delay:

“What? No,” she says, her turn to look a little confused. His shoulders relax. “No, I’m—I’m fine, but I won’t be if you fucking… fucking poof!” 

His mind is whirling, trying to catch up. He’s currently stuck on the assurance that she’s fine, that nothing actually happened to her. 

“You don’t…” Rebecca starts again only to trail off and glance away, swallowing thickly. He wishes her words weren’t just that little bit slurred still. “The boys, they need you. The team, they—you’re so bloody good, y’know? You haven’t done all you can. Want to know why?”

“Why?” he murmurs, curious.

Except her nose wrinkles and her brows furrow and she bites her cheek. 

“I don’t remember,” she mutters under her breath, and it makes him laugh. “But that doesn’t—it doesn’t mean you’re done and you can just walk out of my fucking life because I will remember why and then I’ll tell you.”

Ted’s lips part, his breath caught in his throat. Rebecca doesn’t even seem to realize what she’s said. 

Is that what she’s afraid of? That he’d just up and leave, waltz right out of her life? 

As if he ever could. As if he ever would.

“Rebecca,” he whispers. She hums, and he tilts her chin with his finger. “There’s not a thing in this world that could make me walk out of your life.” 

Her eyes widen, like she’s only just realizing she said that. But then she shakes her head. 

“You don’t mean that.”

Well, that hurts. 

“Sure I do,” he says. He considers his next words, worries they might be a bit too much, but he refuses to let her sit here and think that walking away from her would be something easily done. “I dunno if you know this, but you’re my best friend, Rebecca. You… you mean a lot to me, ya know, and I might not always be so sure if I’m doin’ the right thing with the team, so I might second guess myself, but you? I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be when I’m spendin’ time with you.” 

“Ted...”

“I don’t want you doubting that, okay?”

Rebecca’s mouth twists and fresh tears well in her eyes, dampness spilling over her cheeks. He brushes delicately at the sensitive skin there, wiping it away. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs, coaxing her into him. She wraps her arms around his back, her grip tight in the fabric of his sweater. He takes a deep breath, his eyes falling closed as he exhales it slowly. “I’m sorry you thought otherwise.”

It might be what happened, but his question wasn’t specific, didn’t ask what she was doing at the pub. He hopes that’s not what brought her there, isn’t what had her needing a drink, but he doesn’t ask. He’s too afraid to know. 

He thinks he already does know. 

“You mean a lot to me, too,” Rebecca whispers over his shoulder. 

Aiming for some levity, he asks, “Am I your best friend?”

It gets a raspy, wet chuckle that makes him smile. Rebecca shifts, tucking her face into his neck. The feel of her warm breaths against his skin has a shiver coursing down his spine. 

There’s a contrasting seriousness in her voice when she says, “Yes.” 

Ted rubs his hand between her shoulder blades, a soothing back and forth; his other hand disappears into her hair, his fingers threading through the strands. He can feel the flutter of damp lashes on his skin and each movement of her lips. She takes a deep breath and he feels the expansion of her ribs against his chest. 

“I need you, Ted,” she whispers, like she’s telling him a secret. He thinks she is. Her voice is so quiet he wouldn’t have heard her if it were any louder in the room. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t—” Her chest stutters as she sucks in a breath; he doesn’t know if it’s another hiccup or if her breath catches. “I don’t want to have to find out.”

There’s a vulnerability in her voice that reaches all the way down to his toes. He doesn’t want her to regret being open with him, and he holds her that much tighter. 

“You won’t have to,” he tells her, equally as soft. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

His heart races in his chest, the warmth of her words still spreading through his veins, seeping into his skin and putting up roots down to the bone. Ted smiles softly into her hair, tears of his own pressing insistently at the backs of his eyes.

“Rebecca?” 

She hums, her hands fisting tighter in the back of his sweater. 

He hopes she remembers this in the morning. 

“I need you, too,” he whispers. “So much that it scares me sometimes.”

Rebecca’s lips brush against the skin of his neck again, but it’s more purposeful this time—a soft, unexpected kiss that leaves him breathless. 

It’s silly, but he doesn’t move, too scared to break whatever spell has overcome them.

Over the next fifteen minutes Rebecca’s breathing evens out, the weight of her body resting more heavily against him, and she falls asleep on his chest. Ted holds her there, gently carding his fingers through her hair; his thoughts race in time with the beating of his heart, and he wonders if she can feel it against her cheek. 

Soon, he’ll wake her. He’ll encourage her to finish off one last glass of water, take two pain pills in a preemptive attempt to stave off a headache, and ensure she gets into bed. 

For this moment, with a tender dusting of his lips to her hair, Ted sighs. 

“You’ve got no idea.”

Chapter Text

The early days of December are marked by small, almost inconsequential moments that don’t feel that small to him at all.

On the third, Rebecca finds him in his office long after training ends. Her heels alert him to her presence a few seconds before she appears in the doorway, her coat tied tight around her midsection and her purse dangling from the crook of her elbow. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” 

He matches her smile. “I could ask you the same thing, boss.”

“If I’m not mistaken, it looks like I’m the one prepared to leave.”

Ted chuckles, gives a little you got me shrug. “Can’t argue with you there,” he relents. “Was there somethin’ you needed from me?”

“Yes,” she says, matter-of-fact. “You can close that laptop, put your puffer on so you don’t freeze, and come with me.” 

“Where are we going?”

He’s already tipping the top of his laptop shut and tucking it into his bag. He doesn’t even need to know the destination. He’d follow her anywhere. 

“All in good time,” she says with a wry quirk of her lips. 

“Cryptic, I like it.” 

Rebecca slips her arm into his as they make their way out of the club, only releasing him when they reach her car. Their destination, as it turns out, is a quaint little pub on the opposite end of town with what can only be described as mood lighting and an air of mystery. 

“I like to come here sometimes,” she says quietly, delicate fingers wrapped around the stem of her wine glass. “At the end of a long day when drinking alone at home feels particularly unappealing but I want a bit more anonymity than the Crown & Anchor offers.”

The way she says it and the gentleness of her gaze makes him think she’s sharing something with him, something that, until now, she’d kept for herself. It makes his chest fill with warmth. 

“Seems like a nice place to unwind.” 

Rebecca hums. “I’ve found it to be so, yes.”

“Thanks for sharin’ it with me,” he says softly, his eyes tender as they peer over at her. 

She props her elbow on the tabletop and lets her cheek rest in her open palm, something especially soft about the way she looks in the dim lighting of this pub. He wants to reach over and cup her free cheek, wants to brush his thumbs along the sensitive skin there and lean down to cover her mouth in a chaste kiss. 

“I quite enjoy sharing things with you, Ted.” 

His smile broadens and his heart lifts. 

On the eleventh, the weather takes a turn for the worse. 

Ted’s long used to the rain now. He’s used to the way the skies will darken and become overrun with gray clouds even if it was sunny ten minutes earlier, used to the opening up of those very same clouds until there’s a smattering of rain and he’s forced to take shelter under an awning or pull his handy umbrella free from where he often keeps it in his backpack these days. 

This, though? Whew. 

Ted’s about to make a mad dash for the nearest awning when his phone vibrates in his back pocket. He pulls it free, the smile automatic when he sees Rebecca’s face light up the screen. 

“Hiya, boss,” he greets, his voice a little louder than normal to be heard over the downpour. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you outside?”

He makes a quick jog, replying once he’s huddled in front of a store front. “Unfortunately for me, sure am,” he says. Leaning forward and peering at the scenery, he lets out a low whistle. “Say, you had the right idea headin’ home when you did.” 

“You’re just leaving the club now?” she asks, and there’s a funny quality to her voice he can’t quite pinpoint. But it’s hard to hear her over the rain, so perhaps he’s imagining it. 

“Ah, yeah. The boys are a little in their heads ahead of the upcoming match, ya know? They wanted to stay late to make sure they had the new plays down.”

On a normal day, the sun would probably just be starting to set now. Because of the storm, it’s been gray since before Ted left the club, and it’s only getting progressively darker. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was already 8 or 9 o’clock. 

“The weather’s horrible, Ted. It’s not—you shouldn’t be out in it.” 

“Just a bit of rain, boss,” he says, even as the intensity of it increases. He thinks it’s hail he hears now, a cacophony of not so quiet thud, thud, thud noises as they land. “I’ll be outta this and in the comfort of my own home in no time.”

Contrary to what he just said to Rebecca, this isn’t just rain. 

This reminds him of the storms that precede a tornado—which, bein’ from Tornado Alley, he’s used to that too. He knows this is just a nasty storm, ‘cause London doesn’t get tornadoes and not all thunderstorms breed tornadoes, but boy if that loud crackle of thunder doesn’t bring back memories. 

But she seems a bit uneasy about him bein’ out right now as it is, so he doesn’t think that’s something he’s going to bring up. 

Another particularly loud rumble of thunder hits and he hears Rebecca suck in a breath, a quiet, “shit,” hissed through her teeth. Ted stops his move from one awning to the next, not much caring that the rain is pelting against him now that he’s no longer beneath the protection of one. 

Standing between the two, he pauses. 

“Rebecca, you alright?” 

Her exhale is shaky. “Yes,” she says after a beat. “I’m just…” The fine that he’s sure was about to slip past her lips is cut off by a quick, loud roar of thunder and instead what he hears is a flustered, “Fuck.”

“Boss?” he asks, concern in the downturn of his mouth. “Everything okay?”

Ted quickens his pace, blinking against the onslaught of rain. It’s started hitting sideways with the increase in the wind and he winces as it continues to get him in the face. 

There’s silence on the line and he doesn’t like that.

As quietly as he can while still being heard, he asks, “Are you safe?” 

“Yes,” she says, and his shoulders loosen. “I’m sorry, Ted, I—”

He thinks he understands. “Don’t apologize. Thunderstorms aren’t fun.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“Right,” she breathes. He can almost picture her rolling her lips together in her silence. “I just… I don’t have the fondest memories with storms like this. It’s silly.”

Ted shakes his head, and he thinks if he wasn’t already drenched the water sloshing from his dampened hair would be comical. “Your feelings aren’t silly.” 

She doesn’t say anything to that, just lets out a quiet, noncommittal hum that tells him she doesn’t quite agree. 

“Are you almost home?” she asks instead. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re safely inside.”

Ted halts his strides. He’s standing in the middle of Richmond Green, staring at her home across the way. Well, where he knows her home is—the weather’s too horrible for him to see it with any clarity even though he’s not that far away. 

His mouth opens, but then something hits him. “Say, didja need somethin’?” 

“What?”

“You never said why you called,” he explains. “Not that you need a reason, ‘course, I’m always happy to hear from ya, but I assume there is a reason.”

“Oh,” she says, and her silence is pointed. “It’s nothing. It’s—”

“If you’re about to say silly, I’m gonna have to ask that you put that right back.” She huffs, and Ted hikes his shoulders up to his ears. He’s gettin’ kinda cold now. “Rebecca?”

With a quiet sigh, she admits, just above a whisper, “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

His heart squeezes. His eyes begin to widen, but then some rain immediately flies into them and he slams them shut as they start to water. 

“Oh,” he breathes. 

“Christ, I hope that’s not weird,” she says softly. He has to press his phone harder to his ear to hear her. “Your voice, it just… it’s calming.”

Well if that doesn’t just warm his chilled bones. 

“No, no, not weird, you kiddin’ me? It’s an honor you think so,” he murmurs, a gentle smile overtaking his face. He doesn’t even care that his mustache is 100% waterlogged right now. 

He makes a split second decision, one he hopes will be well-received, and allows his legs to carry him across the green and away from his apartment. His choice is solidified for him when there’s a flash of lightning, a roaring crackle accompanying it, and Rebecca lets out another sharp, uncomfortable noise in the back of her throat.

His pace quickens, and by the time Rebecca says, “Please tell me you’re nearly home, Ted. I hate the thought of you out there right now,” he’s standing on her front stoop.

“Well, I’m at my destination,” he confirms. 

“Good.”

Ted knocks on the door and winces when she sucks in a surprised breath. He probably should apologize and tell her it’s just him, but she’s speaking before he has the chance. 

“Ted, could you—will you stay on the phone while I answer the door?” she asks, hesitant. “I’m not expecting anyone and this weather makes everything feel so much more fucking sinister.”

“Of course,” he says easily, his heart in his throat. 

Maybe this was a bad idea. 

He doesn’t have time to question it, though, because she’s opening the door a minute later, her lips parting and brows raising with her widened eyes. Her gaze rakes over him, trails the length of his body, before she’s hauling him into her entryway with a fist to the front of his puffer. 

“You’re soaked,” she says, only stepping away from him to close the door and lock it behind them. “What the hell are you doing here? You said you were on your way home.”

Ted nods. “I was. And then…” He shrugs a little sheepishly, a little shy. “I could tell you were on edge, ya know, and I hated the thought of you bein’ here by yourself feelin’ how you clearly do about thunderstorms.”

Rebecca’s face softens, something affectionate slipping in. “Ted, you didn’t have to…” 

“You said my voice was calming, so I thought maybe my presence and my voice might…” He trails off, second-guessing. His cheeks flush. “If this was a dumb idea I’m real sorry. Actually, I can head home and we can pretend this never—”

She launches herself at him, halting his ramble and instead forcing a quiet oof out. 

“Thank you,” she mumbles into his neck. “You always just… you seem to know exactly what I need, even if I can’t get myself to ask for it.” 

Ted raises a hand to her back. “You got halfway there,” he says quietly. “You called.”

“And you answered.” 

“I’ll always answer for you,” he whispers, his eyes slipping closed at the warm breath she exhales against his chilled skin. 

Which reminds him—

“Rebecca, I’m drenched,” he says, moving to step away. “You’re gonna get all wet.” 

She lets him disentangle himself from her hold, but she shakes her head. “I don’t care. We do, however, need to get you into something dry and warm.” 

“I’ve got spare clothes in my backpack, but I’m not too sure how dry they’re gonna be.” 

Rebecca tilts her head, her tongue peeking out adorably while she considers their options. “Give them to me,” she says after a few moments, holding out her hand. Ted raises a brow, and she rolls her eyes. “I’ll put them in the dryer.” 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You didn’t have to come over here in the rain, but you did.” She wiggles the fingers on the hand still outstretched expectantly. “Clothes.”

He huffs a laugh but does as he’s told, swinging the backpack around to his front to pull open the zipper. He roots around a bit to get the joggers and t-shirt he usually keeps in there, just in case, when Rebecca’s hand comes into his line of sight, her fingers tugging at the open flap.

“Ted.” He looks up. “Is that an umbrella?” 

Glancing down, he eyes the handle of what is, in fact, his umbrella. “Oh. Uh. Yes, it is.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t, I don’t know, use it?”

He did think about it, briefly, as he stood under the awning. But then Rebecca made that half-gasp, half-whimper noise and all he could think about was making sure she was okay, thoughts of the rain and his umbrella slipping right back out. 

“I didn’t really think about it,” is what he lands on eventually, a half-truth. 

Blessedly, she regards him curiously, a hint of something in her eyes as they roam his face that signals perhaps she understands what he isn’t saying, but she doesn’t push. She takes the clothes he pulls from his bag and turns them over in her hands a few times.

“I don’t have a bloody clue how, but they’re only damp. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to get them dry enough to put on.” 

Ted smiles. “Appreciate you.”

She offers a small smile back, her hand grazing his arm briefly as she nods toward the hallway. “Come. You can shed those outer layers and dry off in the bathroom.” 

After ten or so minutes of standing in his boxers and undershirt in Rebecca’s bathroom, she knocks on the door and passes off his freshly dry clothes. Her smile is soft as she takes him in, the still damp, tousled bits of his hair that stick out in most directions and the way his shirt clings to his skin. 

“Thanks, boss,” he says with an equally gentle smile, raising the offered clothes in his hand. “I’ll be out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Ted finds her in the living room, a freshly poured glass of wine on the coffee table and one in her hand, half full. The corner of her mouth lifts as he takes a seat beside her.

“It helps,” is all she says, to which he nods. 

“I get it.”

Rebecca blows out a breath, swirling the wine in the glass. He tries not to stare at the way her fingers wrap around the stem. The rain picks up and the pinch between Rebecca’s brows tightens. 

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. 

“I meant it when I said I wasn’t scared,” she says. 

Picking up his own glass, he takes a sip before he turns toward her. “I’m not doubting you.” Rebecca raises a skeptical brow and he shrugs. “Not liking thunderstorms isn’t the same thing as being scared of them, and ain’t nothin’ wrong with not liking them. Especially ones like this.”

With a quiet sigh, she nods. “There’s something about the thunder,” she admits. “And I feel silly, because I’m a grown fucking woman and it’s just rain, really, but I just… I don’t have… my associations with thunderstorms like this aren’t exactly ones I’d like to relive.” 

Reaching over, Ted places a warm hand on her knee. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I should though,” she murmurs, looking at him with a small smile. “Christ, Ted, you’re here right now because of it, the least I can do is explain why.”

But he shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything,” he counters softly. His hand squeezes. “Rebecca, I’m here because I want to be, because I don’t want you to be alone. I don’t need to know the reasons for the way you’re feelin’—knowing that you’re feelin’ them is enough.”

Rebecca bites down on her bottom lip as she nods, her free hand coming down to cover his where it still rests on her knee. “Thank you,” she whispers. Her gaze drops for a moment before she looks back at him. “But I do want to tell you.”

“Then I’m happy to listen.”

There’s a low rumble of thunder right as she opens her mouth and her lips pull into a thin line. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, and Ted moves closer. Thigh to thigh now, he slips his right hand from beneath hers only to raise it to her back, his palm flat against her spine. He doesn’t leave her, though, his left hand finding hers again; he curls his fingers around hers, squeezing lightly.

“Okay?” he asks. 

She nods. “Yes, sorry.”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head. “It’s why I’m here, right?” 

“I suppose so,” she says with the ghost of a smile. His hand rubs soothing lines along her back as he waits her out. With another small breath, she licks her lips and begins. “When I was little, I was scared of thunderstorms. Whenever we’d have them, I’d run into my parents’ room and I’d just—I’d want to crawl into their bed and feel safe, you know?”

Ted nods. “Sure,” he agrees. “Henry used to bunk with us when the storms got real bad.”

Her lips lift just so at that. “Right. Except my parents didn’t let me,” she says. “It was more my father than my mother, but she never pushed back. I was too old to be acting like that, too old to be scared of storms or to need comfort.”

He frowns. “How old were you?”

“Six, probably,” she huffs. “Maybe seven.” 

“You were just a little girl.”

Rebecca shrugs. “Not to them,” she says. “I’d go back to my room and sit in the corner with my knees up to my chest and just… cry. Silently, of course, because I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

That breaks his heart and he inches impossibly closer, wrapping his arm more completely around her so he can tug her into his side. 

“Rebecca,” Ted breathes. 

She shakes her head. “You’d think all that time having to self-soothe would’ve had some sort of positive impact.”

With a sigh, his hand rubs along her arm. “I’m sorry. You were too young to be havin’ to deal with that on your own.” 

Rebecca hums noncommittally. “I do actually think there was a stretch of time where they didn’t bother me as much, but then…” She pauses, taking a breath before she brings her wine glass to her lips, taking a generous sip. “With Rupert, he…” 

Her voice trails off again, her mouth twisting to the side. He can tell she’s biting down on the inside of her cheek and the faraway look in her eyes makes something in his chest catch.

The rain fills her silence; the pounding is loud as it collides against the roof, the windows. He’s fairly certain it’s still hailing, too, and there’s something ominous about the look on Rebecca’s face with the storm as the background noise. 

“What did he do?” he asks quietly. 

His mind conjures up the worst possible scenarios. Rupert’s temper flaring, worsening in tandem with the weather. Rupert lashing out, using the cover of the storm to shout and spew a slew of emotional abuse her way. Rupert putting his hands on her, the reminders of that physical abuse causing her to associate thunderstorms with his actions. 

Ted’s stomach flips and he tightens his hold on her, as if he might be able to protect her from something that could have happened years ago. 

“He knew I didn’t like the storms,” Rebecca says finally. “He knew they had a tendency to spook me, to make me uneasy, especially when the thunder got particularly intense. And he used that.”

She finishes off her wine, staring down at the empty glass, her nails dragging along the rim before she leans forward to place the glass onto the coffee table. He can smell the wine on her and he wonders now whether this was her first glass. 

“He got off on scaring me,” she says with a wry smile, her eyes cutting to his for a moment before she looks away again. “It would be dark and chucking it down with rain, and he’d pop out of nowhere. He got a thrill out of making me scream, making me cry. Out of fear first, and then out of anger. And then he’d berate me for it, the crying, for being so sensitive and not being able to take a joke.”

Rebecca’s breathing changes in a way that doesn’t sit well with him. To his utter horror, when he catches a glimpse of her eyes as she turns her head they’re shining. 

“Hey,” he exhales, his brows drawn down in both heartache and anger. 

She shakes her head, biting down hard on her lip. “It’s foolish, letting it get to me after all this time.”

“It’s not foolish. What your parents did, what Rupert did, none of it was okay.”

“Yes, well. Now you know why I… why I don’t handle these storms well,” she says with a heartbreaking sniffle, the back of her hand wiping discretely beneath her nose. “It’s not fear, it’s just… memories.” 

Ted hums. “How do you usually… I mean, there haven’t been many storms like this since I’ve been here—do they happen often?” 

“Luckily for me, the bad ones are fairly infrequent. I can handle a rainstorm—this is England, after all,” she says with a tiny smirk. “I can count on one hand the number of storms severe enough to really rattle me in the past few years.”

He’s glad to hear that this isn’t too common an occurrence. In the past few years means the bulk of the storms to rattle her were while she was still with Rupert, though, and that… that he dislikes. A lot. 

“What do you usually do when they happen?” he asks. 

Rebecca shrugs. “Stay inside. Make an excuse to cancel plans if I had any. Drink.”

His mouth downturns. “You’re usually alone?” 

“Yes,” she says with a small nod. “But given what’s happened in the past when I was with someone during a bad storm, being by myself has just… become preferable.” 

“I should’ve punched Rupert when I had the chance.”

That knocks a loud laugh from deep in her chest. “Ted.” 

“I’m serious,” he says, the look he shoots her telling her just how serious he is. “I don’t like hating people, because it’s a harsh word, a harsh feeling, but boy do I hate him for what he’s put you through. I wish there was something I could do…”

“You’re already doing it,” she whispers, her eyes soft as she regards him. “You’re… you’re doing more for me right now than my parents or Rupert ever did.” 

Ted sighs as he pulls her into his chest, his heart lifting when she comes willingly, one palm flattening over his heart. “Thank you for sharing this with me and for… well, for letting me be here for you.”

“Thank you for wanting to be here.” 

Ted finishes his glass of wine with Rebecca warm and pliable against his side. She’s had two more glasses and she’s pleasantly tipsy, her cheeks pink and her eyes glassy and the tension released from her shoulders.

Until a particularly menacing crackle of thunder breaks and the lights go out. 

He hears her breath hitch beside him and she stiffens, but she doesn’t say anything. Her grip tightens on the throw blanket over her lap. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You don’t have to pretend, you know,” he whispers. 

He knows that despite the fact she’s shared her dislike for severe thunderstorms, and the reason for that dislike, it’s still hard for her to be vulnerable. He doesn’t take it personally—she’s plenty vulnerable with him from time to time, and he knows she’s comfortable doing so. 

It’s just a hard habit to break. He gets it. 

Especially knowing she’s never had someone other than her parents or Rupert spend a storm with her, and each of them made her feel like she should suck it up, be less sensitive. 

“I know. I do. I’m…” Her voice trails off, her head falling to his shoulder.  

He hears her, though. 

She’s trying. 

Ted holds her tighter, running his hand soothingly up and down her arm when she tucks her face into his neck. His mind flashes back to her gentle kiss, the one she’d given him after he brought her home from the pub a few weeks ago, and his heart kicks up. 

“I know,” he tells her. “So, be truthful with me… you doin’ okay?”

Against his skin, she says, “Yes.”

“You’re sure? ‘Cause we can put another movie on real loud, drown it out.”

Rebecca chuckles and it makes him smile. “I wouldn’t say no to the movie, but to your question, yes. I’m sure.” 

“Okay.”

“You know why?”

“Why?” he asks, willing his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness so he can look at her when she pulls back a bit. There’s barely any difference between the scene outside and the pitch blackness in here; the sky is a void, nothing to be seen out there anymore, only the sounds of the storm. 

“You’re here.” 

She says it calmly, so sure, and his heart balloons in his chest.  

“Oh,” he exhales, the corners of his lips lifting. 

Rebecca smiles, then dips her gaze and lowers her head back down against him. His hand slides up her arm until he’s cradling the base of her skull, his fingers disappearing into her hair. 

“The storm isn’t as daunting with you here,” she says quietly, her words coming out a little slow but nothing too terrible. “Feels… safe.”

“I’m real glad you feel that way,” he says just as softly, like speaking any louder might break whatever spell has overtaken the space. “I want you to feel safe with me.”

Rebecca hums, her breath warm against his skin. 

“I always do.” 

The lights flicker in and out for the remainder of the evening, interrupting the movie they did in fact end up putting on to drown out the thunder, and the alcohol makes Rebecca sleepy. She drifts off in his hold, her head lulling against his shoulder. 

It’s around 9:00 when he finally decides to give her a gentle shake.

“Boss,” he whispers, brushing the hair away from her face. “Rebecca, darlin’.”

Rebecca takes a deep breath and snuggles in closer, her face nuzzling into his chest. It makes him smile, his stomach doing somersaults; he contemplates just staying here the rest of the night so she doesn’t have to move, so he can just hold her, but he knows he can’t. 

“C’mon, let’s get you up to bed. It’ll be more comfortable.”

She grumbles. “You’re comfortable.”

Ted chuckles. “I’m honored ya think so,” he says. The rain outside is consistent, a steady beating against the windows. “But you’ll still be much more cozy in those million thread count sheets I’m sure you’ve got up there.”

With a tiny groan that he finds adorable, Rebecca does lift her head from his chest. She rubs at her eyes and glances at him, and he watches in real time as she realizes she was just cuddling his chest and her cheeks flush. But she doesn’t apologize, just offers a shy smile that lights his chest on fire. 

“Okay,” she sighs, blinking around the sleep. She lets her palms fall to her thighs with a quiet smack and then she pushes herself up; she wobbles just a little, and Ted’s quick to press a hand to her lower back to steady her. 

“Good?” he asks, looking up at her.

Rebecca nods. “Good. Thanks.”

“‘Course,” he says. He takes a moment to stare at the coffee table where their discarded wine glasses remain. “I’ll bring these to the kitchen and then get outta your hair.” 

She looks down at him with her forehead creased, a frown on her face. 

“What?” he asks, already gathering the glasses. “I don’t mind.”

He’s planning on washing them, too, but he doesn’t say that. 

“No, I…” Rebecca clears her throat, shaking her head. “Thank you, Ted. For bringing them into the kitchen.”

It’s his turn to frown. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she says, but he can tell that isn’t what she was going to say, that the look on her face wasn’t because of the dishes. 

Ted stands, the glasses held carefully in one hand, the other reaching out to brush along her arm. “Rebecca?”

He eyes her softly, leveling her with what he hopes is an open and encouraging expression. She doesn’t look at him at first, her gaze dropping to where he’s looped his fingers around her wrist. But then she raises her eyes to find his; they’re a little glassy from the wine but there’s an undercurrent of gentleness and a bit of hesitation. 

The rain picks up outside, switching from the steady pace to more of a downpour again. 

“Will you stay?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Ted hates the uncertainty in her face, that tiny hint of doubt. He thinks about how she’s never had someone to comfort her through the night during a storm like this—not her parents, certainly not Rupert. He thinks about the way her ex-husband would berate her for feeling like this, belittle her feelings and make her cry. 

He releases her wrist and drags his hand down to take hold of hers, palm to palm.

“Of course,” he murmurs, fingers squeezing. “If you want me here, I’m here.”

Rebecca exhales, a relieved breath puffing free. She nods softly and her lips curve into a small, appreciative smile.

“I also don’t want you out in this weather.”

Her care for his well-being is endearing. He gets it, too, because if the roles were reversed there’s no way he’d want her to leave in these conditions. 

“Alrighty then, it’s settled,” he smiles. He lifts the wine glasses. “I’ll bring these to the kitchen while you go get comfy and I’ll come find you?”

“Okay,” she says. 

Her fingers squeeze around his once more before she lets go, his hand dropping from hers. He gives her another smile and then watches her make her way out of the living room, disappearing into the hallway and up the stairs. 

Ted turns in the opposite direction. He brings the glasses to the sink, washes them, and places them onto her empty draining rack. 

By the time he pads upstairs and finds Rebecca’s bedroom at the end of the hall, lit only by what appears to be a bedside lamp, it’s been about ten minutes. He imagines she’d have had enough time to get changed, but he isn’t going to take any chances. 

He pauses at the doorway, knocking lightly on the frame. 

“Clear to enter?” he calls.

Her light chuckle reaches him first, and then, “You can come in, Ted. I’m not naked.”

He can feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he crosses the threshold slowly. He’s never been in Rebecca’s room before and he only takes a cursory glance around, too impatient to get his eyes on her instead, but he thinks it suits. It’s warm, like her. 

Rebecca’s already beneath the covers, sleepy eyes on him as she sits against the headboard.

Ted smiles. “All cozy?” 

“Mm. I will be in a moment,” she murmurs, extending her hand toward him. 

Oh. 

He’s not sure why he assumed he’d be saying goodnight and then setting up in one of the guest rooms right down the hall, close enough in case she needs him but far enough to not invade her space, but… 

Even as he takes a few steps forward and slips his hand into hers, he asks, “You’re sure?” 

“Please.” 

Ted climbs in beside her, slipping beneath the comforter. His skin burns when Rebecca immediately reaches over to turn the lamp out and then slides closer to him. 

“Is this okay?” she whispers in the dark, their hands clasped together as they lay on their sides facing one another. 

He nods, but then in case she can’t see him: “Perfectly okay.” 

Rebecca’s tired, he knows, the wine making her even sleepier, so he isn’t surprised when her breathing begins to even out. He’s glad for it. 

And then a crash of thunder so loud Ted can feel it rattle his chest breaks and Rebecca jolts out of whatever slumber she might’ve been falling into with a surprised gasp. Her hand squeezes tighter around his and he doesn’t know if it’s voluntary or instinct, but he matches her grip and tugs her closer. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” he whispers into her hair when she’s close enough. He lets go of her hand only to wrap his arm around her more completely, cocooning her against him. “It’s okay.”

“Ted?”

“It’s just me. I’m right here,” he promises. Rebecca’s palm rises to his chest, fingers splayed. When a flash of lightning bounces through the room, illuminating the space for a second, she curls her fingers into a fist around the fabric of his shirt and tucks herself more completely under his chin. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

His hand runs back and forth along her spine, slow movements that he hopes is helping. The thunder continues to roll but it gets quieter as time goes on, the storm finally moving farther away and leaving them with mostly rain.

Rebecca’s breaths start to even out again, her back rising and falling more steadily beneath his palm.  

When she mumbles something against his chest a little while later, it takes him by surprise. He thought she’d drifted off already, but he’s certain she’s just said something. 

“Hm?” 

He trails his hand higher, palm cupping the back of her head. 

Rebecca inhales deep, exhaling it against his collarbone with a muddled… something. Something that has his breath hitching in his throat, his hold on her tightening just so. 

“What?” he whispers, rough, but he gets no response. Her breathing is steady again. 

Which is great. Except now his is not.

Because what Rebecca said just now sounded suspiciously like a mumbled, muffled I love you.

Ted manages to fall asleep eventually, what she might’ve said pushed to the back of his mind and her soft puffs of breath warm against his skin. 

Because Rebecca was mostly asleep and fairly tipsy. And he might’ve misheard anyway. 

He wakes in the morning with Rebecca in his arms, her body warm and soft against his, and the most dangerous thought slips into his barely-conscious brain: 

He could get used to this. 

On Christmas, as expected, there are warring emotions coiling in his chest. 

There’s the inevitable sadness over not being able to spend the day with Henry, his son instead celebrating the holiday with his mother and grandmother back in Kansas. He thought perhaps they’d trade off years, meaning he’d have Henry with him in London this year, but Michelle said there was some event being held just out of town that they wanted to take him to and he didn’t feel like turning it into a fight. 

It’s just after 1:00 in the morning on Christmas Day and Ted’s waiting to FaceTime Henry. They’re leaving for this out of town event by 8:00 Kansas time, and it just made more sense to do it now than try to find a time tomorrow when they’re free and risk it not happening at all.

Although he wishes he could be with his boy in person he’ll enjoy seeing him at all, of course he will, and then he’ll talk to Michelle later about getting Henry for Christmas in London next year. It’s only fair, he thinks.

At the opposite end of the emotional spectrum, there’s the anticipatory joy over getting to spend the day with Rebecca. He’s going to be the Elf to her Mrs. Clause again, helping her distribute those giant totes of Christmas goodies to children around London. 

And speaking of Rebecca… 

“Oh, dad, one more thing,” Henry says just before they’re about to end their FaceTime. He got to watch him open the gifts he had sent over, and the joy on his boy’s face brings a smile to his. 

The phone wobbles in Henry’s grip and Ted chuckles. “Yeah, what is it, buddy? I can hear your mom callin’ ya.” 

Michelle is in the background, letting Henry know they need to start getting on the road soon.

“I know, mom,” he calls down, then turns back to the camera. “Can you tell Rebecca thanks for me?”

Ted’s brows turn down. “You want me to thank Rebecca?” 

“Yeah,” Henry says. “I’m gonna write her a card to thank her, ya know, and send it to you to give to her, but I don’t wanna have her waitin’ and thinkin’ I’m not gonna thank her.”

His mind trying to wrap itself around what he’s being told, he manages, “That’s real nice, buddy, but uh—what are you thanking Rebecca for?”

“My Christmas gift.” Henry shakes his head as he says, “Duh, dad.”

“She…” Ted’s voice trails off as the camera moves again, no longer pointed at Henry but a blurry flash of his room as he gets up from his bed. 

Rebecca didn’t tell him she’d gotten a gift for Henry. 

He had no idea. 

But before he has any longer to try to work that out in his head, he registers Henry talking again, his voice bringing him back, “—it’s even got the coach’s office, isn’t it so cool?”

And then he realizes what he’s looking at. 

It’s a Lego set, but it’s custom. It has to be. Because it’s of the club—it’s huge, has Lego iterations of the pitch; the locker room and coach’s office, as Henry’s just pointed out; the stands and the tunnel; and there’s even a small window above the stands, one he recognizes easily as Rebecca’s office window. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, his heart in his throat. He can’t believe she did this. Well, he can, he just… “Yeah, Hen, it’s super cool.”

Henry fiddles with the tiny Lego version of Jamie, sticking him on the pitch before he grins at the camera, pushes from the floor, and heads back to flop onto his bed. 

“Mom let me put it together early, ‘cause I was too excited and it came like, a week and a half ago.” He pauses, frowning. “Don’t tell Rebecca I didn’t wait till today, though, okay?” 

Ted nods, his eyes suspiciously damp. “I won’t,” he promises. “But I’ll pass along your thanks when I see her tomorrow, how’s that?”

“Great, thanks, dad,” he smiles. It falters when Michelle calls again, and he turns to the camera with a sigh. “I gotta go, mom’s gettin’ antsy.” 

He chuckles. “Go on then, don’t keep your mama waiting. Merry Christmas, buddy.”

“Merry Christmas, dad. Love you!” 

Ted returns the sentiment, waves at the camera, and then sighs when the FaceTime ends. He lets his phone fall to the couch beside him and he slumps back against the cushion; it mirrors last year, except it’s the middle of the night, there’s no tumbler of whiskey in his hand, and the television is off. 

And there’s a new gentleness swirling around in his chest. 

He can’t stop thinking about it as he gets ready to finally head to bed. Rebecca. Rebecca getting a Christmas gift for Henry of her own accord and having it shipped over. And such a thoughtful, no doubt expensive one at that. Not that the expense matters, of course, but the fact that she’d go to the trouble for his son… God, he loves her.

He’s known it, this isn’t news, but he feels it so intensely in this moment. 

Ted turns against his pillow with the image of Henry’s bright smile behind his eyelids and the warmth of Rebecca’s kindness lulling him to sleep.

It takes him by surprise when he hears the tell-tale ping of a pebble bouncing off of his living room window. His smile is slow as he pushes himself from the couch and steps up to that very window; he kind of expects Rebecca to be standing down there, assuming she was the source of the pebble like last year, but he doesn’t expect there to be a second display. 

Beneath the brim of an endearing Santa hat, she glances up at him with sparkling eyes and a gentle smile. Beside her, Hi, Ted! is written in tinsel again. 

Seeing her is a balm for the soul. 

Ted woke with the familiar ache in his chest at not getting to spend today with Henry, the disappointment cracking at his heart despite his best efforts; and here’s Rebecca, stitching it right back up with nothing more than a kind gesture and her mere presence. 

“Well, come on then,” she calls up, her cheeks bunching as she inclines her head and waves a hand. God, he wants to kiss her. “We’ve got presents to deliver.”

He’s powerless against the way his own smile widens, genuine now.  “On my way, boss.”

“And Ted?” Turning back to the window, he peers down at her. Her smile softens. “Don’t forget the Santa hat.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They spend the rest of the morning galavanting around London in their Santa hats, giant sacks of presents hauled over Ted’s shoulder with glee. He shakes his head when she tells him they can switch off, that she can also carry the sacks, just shooting her a smile and telling her that this is his duty as second string elf.

“You just made that up.”

“Of course I did,” he says. His voice lowers with faux-seriousness then. “We’re not actually elves, Rebecca.”

She lets out a dramatic gasp, her hand coming to clutch at her chest. “No?”

Ted’s stomach flips as her fake surprise gives way to an amused smirk, her tongue peeking out between her teeth to lick at the corner of her mouth. He loves when she does that, his eyes tracking the movement in what’s likely not at all subtle, but he can’t tear his attention away. 

Not until her tongue finds its way back into her mouth and her lips roll together, prompting his gaze to move up. Her cheeks are a pale pink that he finds charming, the shade a bit darker than the blush she’s wearing; he clears his own throat and glances away, hiking the presents higher.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, boss.”

“A crushing loss.”

“You’re totally first string elf, though.”

“Well, I’m honored to be a fake first string elf,” she decides. “Whatever the fuck that means.”

Ted laughs. “I’ll explain the concept of first and second string to ya over dinner.”

Rebecca glances back at him. “Dinner?” 

He blanches. “Oh, I uh, I thought we might—shoot, sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed,” he fumbles a little, second-guessing. “‘Course you’ve gotta get to Elton’s shindig, don’t you mind me, I’m just—”

“Ted,” she halts his rambling backtrack with a warm hand on his forearm. “Dinner sounds lovely.”

“Oh,” he exhales. “Yeah?”

Her lips lift on one side in a fond smile. “Yes,” she nods. With a gentle squeeze of his arm, she lets her touch fall away. 

“You’re gonna miss Daniel Craig and Rachel Weisz’s hand puppets two years in a row?”

Rebecca hums. “They’re wonderful but as I said last year, all I really want to see those two do together is fuck.”

“Right, yup, that’s fair.”

“Besides, it appears I’ve gotten a better offer.”

Oh.

She lets out a soft chuckle and he only realizes she’s started walking again when he turns back, head cocked to the side with a coquettish smile on her face.

“Come on, Coach. Let’s finish these drop-offs. I’m famished.” 

Ted scurries to catch up to where she is, knocking her shoulder with his.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Rather than find somewhere to go once they finish with the present deliveries, they decide to head back to Rebecca’s and order in. He’s perfectly fine with that; he prefers it, actually, any chance to simply be with her, just the two of them. 

“If we’ll be getting Thai, I need to change out of these jeans,” she says, palms flat against her thighs before she chucks a thumb in the direction of the stairs. “You okay to order for us?”

He lets out a light chuckle. “Go put your Thai pants on, boss. I got it.”

With a quiet roll of her eyes, Rebecca leaves him in the living room to go divest herself of her jeans. He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials the Thai restaurant, tapping in the number he memorized after their third time ordering. 

He orders Rebecca’s usual, Pad Thai with Thai iced tea, and then decides to switch it up for himself. Rather than his go-to, pad see ew, he opts to try Panang curry this time. At the last minute, he adds on an order of Thai spring rolls, ‘cause you can never go wrong with spring rolls of any variety, and some curry puffs. 

Rebecca re-joins him a few minutes after he hangs up; he turns at the sound of her quiet shuffling footsteps and smiles.

“25 minutes,” he says, waving his phone. “Got your usual and some extras ‘cause I couldn’t resist.”

“Perfect.” 

Dropping herself down onto the couch, she rolls her head to look at him. She’s taken off her makeup, leaving her fresh-faced and as beautiful as she was before she walked upstairs. Her eyes dip under his attention, as they usually do, but he can’t stop taking her in. She’s pulled her hair free from its ponytail, loose waves messy around her shoulders now, and she’s changed into a pair of black leggings and an oversized plum-colored sweater. 

“Thank you,” she says after a few moments. There’s a smile in her voice. “For being a second string elf with me again this year.”

“Now we’ve been over this, you’re first string elf for sure,” he teases. And then he sobers a little. “But there’s no thanks necessary. I’ll be elf to your Mrs. Clause for as long as you’ll have me.”

Rebecca hums through her soft closed-mouth smile. “I thought I was an elf?” 

“First string elf.”

“First string elf, yes, of course.”

He laughs. “You’re a woman of many hats.”

“Well, looks like I’ll have to get my own Mrs. Clause or elf hat for next year then.”  

Ted grins. “Now that I’ve gotta see,” he says. 

“Are you implying my hat will look ridiculous?” she asks, eyeing him with one brow raised.

“‘Course not. I’m implying that it’s gonna look adorable.” 

Her eyes widen just so, but then her face relaxes into something pleased. “Good,” she decides. “Seems we’re making a bit of a tradition out of this.” 

“Seems we are.” 

“That okay with you?” she asks after a moment, a smidge shy. 

“More than okay with me. Not sure if this will come as a surprise to you, but I love a good tradition.”

She laughs, the shyness gone in a flash, and he feels lighter for it. “I might be able to see that,” she muses, a smile pulling at her lips. 

“And not for nothin’, but a tradition with you? Well… can’t think of a more worthy addition.”

Rebecca softens. Her eyes lower, but then she grabs hold of his hand and squeezes. When she glances back up, he doesn’t need to hear the words to understand what she’s saying.

She shares the sentiment. 

They’re sitting side-by-side, their Thai takeaway spread out between them. As usually ends up happening, their dishes get shared and a few spring rolls find their way onto each plate. 

Ted’s swallowing his final bite of a curry puff when he clears his throat. 

“I uh, I’ve got a message for you from Henry,” he says, raising his fingers to his mustache, fluffing through it to make sure there are no crumbs. 

Her brows raise, curious. She hums. “What’s that?”

“Thank you.” When she cocks her head, he clarifies: “For his Christmas gift?”

A delicate flush spreads to her cheeks as she lets out a quiet, “Oh.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, but he hopes his voice exudes just how touched he is that she did anyway. 

“I wanted to. I remembered you saying how much he loved Lego these days, and I thought…” Rebecca pauses, biting on her lip. “Did I overstep? I should’ve asked you—”

Ted shakes his head, his palm falling to her thigh, just above her knee. “No, no, of course not,” he urges. “Rebecca, it’s… heck, it’s just about the sweetest thing you could’ve done.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to…”

“Positive,” he promises with a smile. “It’s perfect. And Henry loves it.”

A small smile tugs at her mouth. “Yeah?” 

“He was gushing about it on FaceTime,” he proudly informs her. “Couldn’t stop sayin’ enough about how cool it was.” 

Her smile widens, bashful and relieved at the same time. “I’m glad,” she exhales. “I was worried it might be tacky, having it custom-made as the club, but…” One shoulder lifts. “I thought perhaps it would allow him to have a piece of your London world with him.”

Oh, that’s… whew. Emotion presses at the backs of his eyes, love for her overwhelming. 

“Rebecca, that’s…” 

Before she can apologize for absolutely nothing or mistake his reaction for anything but what it is, he pulls her into a hug. She lets out a tiny, surprised gasp but comes willingly, her arms wrapping around him. She chuckles against him, her palms flat against his shoulder blades while he maintains a firm grasp on her. 

“Thank you,” he whispers into her hair. 

“What is it you’re always telling me? No thanks necessary?” 

With a small laugh, he nods against her. “Yeah, but doesn’t feel applicable here.” 

“Well, I assure you it is. You don’t need to thank me for doing something I very much want to and feel great joy in doing.” 

He pulls back and meets her eyes and, for what feels like the millionth time this month alone, all he can think about is how badly he wants to kiss her. Just lean in, close the short distance between them and cover her mouth with his. 

Instead, he smiles, shakes his head, and tells her, “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

Rebecca grins. “I’ve been told once or twice.” 

“Ted, why don’t you stay?” Rebecca suggests. Their Thai is long gone and they’re settled on the couch, Rebecca in one corner with her legs outstretched toward where he lounges on the other side. “It’s getting quite late and we’re not even halfway through this… film you’ve chosen.”

“You’re loving Freaky Friday, boss, you can admit it.”

Rolling her eyes, she waves in the direction of the television where it’s paused on the screen. “It’s bloody ridiculous,” she says. “It’s also my worst nightmare, waking up in my mother’s body.”

She gives an exaggerated shudder and he laughs. 

“Uh huh, sure… but you’re loving it,” he repeats, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Rebecca tries to contain her smile for as long as possible, but it peeks out and she lets it free. “Fine,” she relents. Holding up a finger, she points it at him. “I’ll admit I’m… intrigued. At best.” 

“Mhm,” he smiles, his laughter rich when she swats at his leg with the back of her hand. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“It better be,” she mutters. And then she pats his leg again, signaling for him to swing them over so she can get up. “But I will be needing a drink for the latter half of this spikey haired Jamie Lee Curtis business.” 

Ted snorts. “Whatever helps you get through it.” 

“Wine? Whiskey? I believe I have some bourbon, too.” 

“Whiskey’s fine, thanks.” 

She nods. “This mean you’re staying? I won’t have you wandering across the green after dark after you’ve been drinking.”

“Safety first and all.”

“Of course. So, yes?”

“You asked, so yes.” 

Her tongue darts out to lick at the corner of her lips. “Right.” 

When she comes back a few minutes later with a glass of wine in one hand and a tumbler of whiskey in the other, she hands his off and then settles back onto the couch. She lowers herself onto the cushion beside him rather than in the corner again, tucking one leg under her body. Tugging the throw blanket from where she’d discarded it, she situates it over both of their laps. 

“Ready?” she asks, holding up the remote. 

Ted smiles, her proximity warming his body. “Ready.”

They finish Freaky Friday and Rebecca’s shoulders do a little sway during the music scenes, so Ted considers it a win despite the it was okay shrug she offers. Well, that and the smile that keeps playing around her mouth when she says it. 

Halfway through Elf—

“It’s a Christmas classic, boss, we have to.”

Rebecca hums, amused. “Would be a shame not to, I suppose,” she says. “Us being Christmas elves ourselves and all.” 

His pleased grin is wide and blinding. 

—Rebecca’s body becomes looser, more pliable where she leans against the back of the couch, her cheek kissing the fabric. 

“Looks like you’re feelin’ good,” he teases, taking in her flushed cheeks and glossy eyes. 

Her smile grows. “I am.” She hums, then her eyes fall closed as she lets out an airy sigh. When they flutter back open, they find him. 

She doesn’t say anything, but he watches her regard him like she wants to. 

“Got somethin’ on your mind?” 

Still meeting his gaze, she exhales a quiet murmur of his name. “Ted?”

“Hm?”

Rebecca’s quiet for another moment, her eyes dropping to stare at the couch and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. “That night we talked. While you were in Kansas. Do you remember?” 

As if he could forget. 

“Kinda hard to forget your first time being locked in a freezer.” 

Her brows drawn down. “What?”

Ted laughs. “We’ll circle back to that,” he promises. “I remember.” 

“I’d been drinking with Keeley, but you thought I was with someone.” 

His skin heats up. “I did, yeah.” 

“You… you were concerned about someone taking advantage. A man here while I was drunk,” she recounts, a quiet hiccup escaping that makes him smile. “I need you to—that wouldn’t happen.” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Nothin’ wrong with havin’ someone over, I was just—”

She shakes her head. “No, it wouldn’t happen,” she insists, eyes on him now. “I don’t… I don’t let myself get drunk alone with people I don’t trust. And I don’t trust most men.” 

He looks at her, then at their empty glasses. When he trails his gaze back, there’s a small, understanding smile on his face.

“Well, I’m honored to have made the short-list.”

Rebecca snorts. “Ted, you’re like… the entire list.” 

“Oh,” he breathes. He knows she’s exaggerating, knows he’s probably on that list with the likes of Roy, Higgins, and Beard, but he also knows she isn’t likely to be drinking alone with any of them. Except maybe Roy. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me.”

“It’s you,” she says, her forehead wrinkling. “I’m safe with you.”

It’s not the first time she’s shared the feeling, but he’s not sure there’ll ever be a time when his chest fails to fill with unimaginable warmth hearing it. It’s not something he takes lightly.  

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looping his arm around her, his heart lifting when she cuddles in without hesitation. “You are.” 

Rebecca lets out a quiet exhale, slowly shifting so her body’s pressed up against his, her head on his shoulder. He pulls his right arm from between their bodies, conscious of the way it’s probably digging into hers; he drapes it across the back of the couch, his heart lifting into his throat when Rebecca uses the newly vacated space to curl in closer. 

After a brief moment of hesitation, Ted lets his arm fall from the couch cushion to wind around her shoulders. She raises a hand to his chest, fingers toying with the fabric of his shirt before they flatten, splayed wide above his heart. 

“You’re so good,” she sighs softly. “You know? You’re so… good.” 

Ted’s hand rubs along her upper arm. “Ah, I dunno ‘bout that, but I sure do try to be.” 

“You are,” she repeats. Her voice is airy and quiet, each word barely more than a whisper. “To me. You’re so good to me.”

“You deserve good things, Rebecca,” Ted tells her, matching her tone. “You know that, right?”

He can feel the expansion of her ribs against his own, the deep breath she takes in lieu of an answer. He doesn’t love that, but he does love her, so he repeats: 

“You deserve good things. Only good things.”

Her thumb begins to brush back and forth on his chest, the fabric of his shirt scrunching with each movement. His hand squeezes her arm. 

“Well,” she says after a long pause. “I have you.” 

His heart kicks up. She must be able to feel it fluttering beneath her palm, he thinks. 

“You sure do, little lady. Coupon for life, and don’t you forget it.” 

“Not sure I deserve you all the time,” she murmurs, a hushed admission. “I want to, though. I keep—I keep trying to… to be good enough. To deserve you in the way…”

To deserve you in the way…

She doesn’t finish the sentence, but those traitorous, hopeful butterflies dance madly in his gut. 

He pushes them down, urges them to disperse so he can focus on the other part of that statement. 

Ted shakes his head, tightening his hold on her for a moment before he eases back so he can look at her. He coaxes her gaze with a soft utterance of her name. 

Only when she’s looking at him with those beautiful, shiny eyes of hers does he say, “You’re more than enough just as you are. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.” 

She blinks, eyes searching his face. “You mean that, don’t you?”

Ted smiles, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “‘Course I do.” 

Her eyes fill before him, but before he can worry he takes stock of the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She digs her teeth into her bottom lip, her tongue darting out a moment later to soothe the area.

Peering up at him beneath dark, damp lashes, Rebecca breathes, “I love you.” 

There’s the tiniest shake of her head as she says it, as simple as can be, like it’s something she says to him all the time. Ted freezes, his stomach in his throat and his skin on fire; he can feel the rattling of his ribs with each thrash of his heart. 

“Rebecca…” he starts, her name scraping along his raw throat on its way out. 

Her eyes cut from his, staring at her hand on his chest. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… thought you should know.”

Her cheeks are rosy, and he suspects it’s not only from the wine.

With a forefinger beneath her chin, he encourages her to look at him. “Hey,” he whispers. “You don’t have to hide from me.” 

Rebecca shakes her head. “I don’t want you to—” She’s interrupted by another tiny hiccup. His thumb brushes along her jaw. “Feel obligated.” 

He laughs, can’t help it. 

As if loving her isn’t the easiest thing in the world. 

“I just want to make sure you’re not gonna regret sayin’ something tomorrow, honey,” he tells her, sincere. 

Rebecca takes a breath, eyes finding his again. 

“I loved you before I started drinking,” she says softly, vulnerable but honest. “I’ll still love you when I’m sober, too.”

And if that doesn’t just light his entire body on fire. 

His left hand raises to her cheek, thumb ghosting over the delicate skin. He keeps his eyes on her face as he leans in slowly, watching for any signs of hesitation. 

Finding none, he tilts her chin up and meets her halfway, finally smoothing his mouth against hers. It’s a soft, chaste thing, nothing more than a gentle brush of lips. Rebecca’s hand slides upward, finds purchase on the side of his neck, fingers dusting along his stubble. 

When he pulls back, her eyes are closed. 

“Rebecca?” 

She hums, her breaths slow and steady. 

Ted presses a second, tender kiss to her forehead. 

“I love you, too.” 

Chapter Text

In the days following their confessions of love, during that liminal time period between Christmas and New Years, Ted feels a lot like he’s living in a dream. 

The morning after, he wakes with Rebecca in his arms; she’s curled into his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, and the warmth of her palm burns through the fabric of his t-shirt. His eyes fall closed as he inhales deep, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and smiling at the floral notes that are so characteristically her.

He stays right where he is, content to just lay with her until she wakes. The golden hue to the sun that peeks in through Rebecca’s window tells him that it’s still early; there’s no need to get up, not right now, not yet. 

Ted doesn’t fall back asleep but he does rest his eyes, the ease and lightness blanketing him lulling him into a relaxing in-between state. One arm is trapped beneath Rebecca’s neck and he leaves it there, unbothered by the numbness that’s setting in; his other, the one draped over her torso, shifts so he can thread his fingers gently through her hair. Not enough to wake her, just gentle passes of his fingers through the fanned out blonde. 

Eventually he takes to dragging his fingertips along her bare arm, nothing but barely there, featherlight touches. She’s in a soft, silky camisole top and matching sleep shorts, both an emerald green color that looks just gorgeous against her skin. Her left foot is weaved between his legs, tangling them together. 

He thinks back to last night—the two of them getting ready for bed, the domesticity of it all. Rebecca slipping into her pajamas, him shimmying down to his boxers and undershirt, the two of them settling into bed to just hold each other and fall asleep to the sound of twin heartbeats. 

He wants that every night. 

He wants to watch her go through her nighttime routine in person and wants to help her with it, wants to swipe one of those little cotton rounds over her delicate skin until it reveals the natural beauty beneath; he wants to drift off with her in his arms, a palm pressed to her spine or her stomach to hold her close; he wants to wake up with her using him as a pillow or to an unruly mess of hair in his face; he wants her to be the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes.

It fills his entire body, the want. 

He’s not sure how much time passes before he feels Rebecca begin to stir, only that the tips of his fingers on his immobilized arm are starting to tingle. None of that matters when he feels her nose wrinkle against his chest, hears the tiny noise in the back of her throat she makes when she sighs, sees that stunning jade staring up at him as her sleepy eyes flutter open. 

Take the arm, he doesn’t need it. Not when he’s got Rebecca here beside him. 

She blinks a few times to adjust to the daylight and he basks in just how beautiful she is like this, still soft with sleep, the early morning sun covering her skin in an unreal glow. 

A small, almost shy smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. “Hi,” she rasps, her voice adorably husky. 

“Hi yourself,” he smiles. He raises his hand, brushing a few rogue pieces of hair away from her face to tuck behind her ear. 

Rebecca’s eyes roam his face before she cranes her neck upward, catching the edge of his jaw with her lips; they linger, purposeful. 

“I told you,” she murmurs when she settles back against the pillow. 

“What?”

“That I’d still love you when I was sober.” 

His heart balloons in his chest. He cradles her jaw in his palm and leans down, smoothing his mouth against hers in a proper kiss; she hums into it, the curve of her smile beneath his lips causing his own. 

When he pulls away, he runs his thumb along the apple of her cheek. “And aren’t I just the luckiest guy in the world for that,” he whispers. 

They spend the morning cuddled together, neither inclined to move until Rebecca’s stomach grumbles and Ted chuckles, insisting he make use of her kitchen to whip up some breakfast. 

Over the next few days, with the holiday lull in full swing at the club, they get drinks with Keeley, Roy, and Beard; Rebecca goes out for a long overdue brunch with Keeley; and Ted even succeeds in getting in a secret sandwich switch-a-roo with Beard. 

Throughout it all, they manage to keep the change to their relationship under wraps.

They aren’t hiding the fact that they’re together now, not necessarily, but they aren’t flaunting it either. It’s a mutual decision to, as much as possible without sneaking around, keep it just between the two of them for now—it’s still so fresh, so precious, and they want to revel in the newness of it all before it’s fully out in the open. 

“Do you think the gang would believe we’re kissing as friends?” he asks mid-week, knocking a laugh from Rebecca’s chest. 

She twists to look over her shoulder at him from where she’s grabbing a wine glass from the cabinet. “Excuse me?” 

“On New Years,” Ted explains, his elbows propped on the island. “I’d like to kiss you at midnight, but I also know we’re keepin’ this on the low for right now, so I figured…” He shrugs. “I dunno, friends can kiss friends when the ball drops, don’tcha think?” 

Rebecca hums. “Sure,” she agrees. “Nothing wrong with a respectable peck between friends.”

“Right. Okay, perfect.”

Returning with a freshly poured glass of wine, she slides it in front of him. “Of course, I plan on having my tongue in your mouth, so I’m not too sure how well that’ll pass for friendly.” 

Ted chokes on the sip he’s just taken. “Oh.”

With a smirk, she walks around the island and kisses him, her tongue slipping between his lips. He swivels on the stool and lets his hands fall to her hips, tugging to hold her between the vee of his legs. She sucks on his bottom lip, nipping softly with her teeth only to run her tongue along the afflicted area a moment later. 

When they break apart, Ted heaves out an exhale. “Yeah, that’s uh—nothin’ friendly about that, nope.”

Rebecca snorts, tilting her head as she peers down at him. “I do think there’s some appeal in watching Keeley’s eyes bug out of her head if we just start making out at midnight.” 

He laughs. “Ya know, I think we might kill her.”

“I think she might try to cut in,” she teases. “Regardless, I’m not interested in foregoing a New Year’s kiss in the name of privacy. You?” 

Ted shakes his head. “I’m not interested in foregoing a kiss in the name of most things.”

A soft smile blooms across her face as she bends at the waist, covering his mouth with hers in another delicate, pleased kiss. Ted’s hands rise from her hips to bracket her ribs, thumbs dusting just below the swell of her breasts over her top. Rebecca sighs against him and he tightens his hold.

They’ve been taking this slow, but he looks forward to feeling the weight of them in his palms without the added barrier of clothes, can’t wait to worship her the way she deserves. 

“Mm,” she hums, draping her arms loosely over his shoulders. “The feeling’s mutual.” 

The New Year’s Eve party is in full swing, what was meant to be a Greyhound get together at Keeley’s turned into Greyhounds-overtake-a-local-club. Something about a burst pipe and last minute changes and, “isn’t the ambiance just brilliant, babe?”

The ambiance in question is loud music, strobe lights, and more random, sweaty people than she was anticipating being in the presence of tonight, but the gin is good and after her third she doesn’t even mind the hooting and hollering of obvious Richmond fans. 

It’s not the New Years she had in mind, more reminiscent of a few parties she attended during university than anything of the past two decades—as mildly nostalgic as it may be, she thinks she’ll return to her usually scheduled parties going forward—but she can’t lie and say she isn’t enjoying herself. 

She even quietly buys a round for everyone who orders within the hour. 

Truthfully, it’s quite fun. 

Most of the team is here, too, which came as a surprise. Even more shocking after she learned that a handful of them even upended their own planned New Years extravaganzas when they heard Keeley was getting the whole gang to ring in the new year together. 

Shocking, but touching. 

It makes her smile, looking in any direction and seeing a cluster of the boys having fun—arms looped around each other’s shoulders, drinks in their hands, the words to whatever song is blasting through the speakers and pounding in her chest being yelled.

Rebecca finds Ted through the crowd, hovering over near the end of the bar with Beard and Jamie. They arrived separately, and he must’ve only just gotten here because this is the first she’s seen of him all night. He’s in the middle of a conversation, talking animatedly, and she wants nothing more than to go over there and kiss him senseless, audience be damned. 

She won’t, but she will catch his eye when his head angles in her direction, almost as if he can feel her gaze on him, and shoot him a soft smile. His face lights up when he sees her and that does something embarrassing to her insides, makes her stomach flip and flutter and twist like she’s a bloody schoolgirl again. 

She watches him pat Beard on the shoulder before tilting his head toward her, and then he’s slipping between the two of them and making his way over. Beard turns to see where he’s going, but as per usual there’s an unreadable, almost annoyingly neutral expression on the man’s face. 

If he’s surprised that Ted’s excusing himself to seek her out, he doesn’t show it. 

She gives an affectionate shake of her head, her bottom lip pinned between her teeth to contain the widening of her smile as he approaches. 

“Hiya, boss,” he says, a grin on his pretty face. 

He wants to hug her, she can tell, but the hesitance is clear; he isn’t sure if it’d be okay here with everyone around, with their friends potentially watching, and it’s endearing as much as it is hilarious. As if they’re not going to kiss at midnight. As if they haven’t hugged before. 

Rebecca offers a fond roll of her eyes, stepping into him to wrap him in a hug anyway. “Friends hug, Ted,” she muses over his shoulder. 

He chuckles and she feels it in her chest. “Yeah, you’re right,” he says. “Gettin’ all in my head and overcompensating.”

She pulls back and offers a kind smile, one hand remaining on his arm. “Well, we could always ditch the midnight plan and kiss right now. Get it over with and out into the open.”

“Sheesh, if the thought of kissin’ me is something you wanna get over with…”

But there’s a tiny smirk on his face and she huffs. “You know exactly what I meant, you ridiculous man.” 

“I do,” he relents, that quirk of his lips softening into something sweet. “And I appreciate the offer, but I can hold out a few more hours.”

“You’re sure?” Rebecca cocks her head, eyes dipping down to his lips and back. She’s pleased by the obvious bob of his Adam’s apple as he follows her lead. “Because I wouldn’t mind kissing you right now.” 

“Wouldn’t mind, huh? As tempting as that glowing review is,” he starts, clearly amused. She swats lightly at his arm. “And as much as I’d love to kiss you right now… the wait will be worth it.”

She wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as she is, wonders if he’s imagining not only kissing her but taking her to bed, finally showing each other just how good they are together. 

Rebecca lets out a soft breath. “Yes. It certainly will.”

They orbit each other for the next chunk of the night, popping off to chat with the others only to come back together near the bar or at the corner of the dance floor. When the ambiance finally starts to be a bit much, the group commandeers one of the booths and slide in to take a break from the excitement—Roy and Beard on one side, Ted and Rebecca on the other, with Keeley eventually shimmying in against her side at the edge of the seat. 

“I’m too bloody old for this,” Rebecca says, her voice raised to be heard over the pulsing of the music. 

“Shut up, you’re perfect,” Keeley says, tilting her head to look at her. But then she concedes with a: “But I can see how this is a bit chaotic, yeah.”

She snorts. “A bit?”

On the other side of the room, Jamie is picking up Colin and carrying him across the floor. 

“All right, well, that one’s not my business,” Keeley laughs. “This one, though…” Fluttering her lashes at Roy, she places her chin in her open palms and smiles. “Can you grab us some drinks, babe? And some snacks?” 

He grumbles but it’s fond. “What does everyone want?”

“Vodka cranberry, please,” Keeley requests. “Ooh, and some like, pretzels or something.

Ted and Beard say, “beer,” at the same time and grin, high fiving. 

“Water, please, Roy,” Rebecca says, earning a narrow-eyed look from Keeley. She ignores it, adding, “And whatever finger food they have to soak up the gin I already had.”

Roy comes back with their drinks, Keeley’s pretzels, and a giant basket of chips for Rebecca. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sheer size of it, and she inches it to the left so it sits between her and Ted. 

He chuckles but takes the hint, plucking a fry from the basket and popping it into his mouth. All she can think about is how badly she wants to taste the salt on his lips. 

Doubly so when his right hand dips below the table and lands low on her thigh, just above her knee. It’s hardly indecent—and hardly where she’d like him—but it heats her skin regardless. 

“Rebecca,” she hears, and she whips her head around to find Keeley staring at her. “Are you listening? I’m asking for your advice on something really important here.”

She shakes her head, biting back the roll of her eyes when she hears Ted’s quiet laugh under his breath, knowing he knows she was distracted and why. 

“I’m sorry, love,” she says, hand covering Keeley’s. “Say again?”

Previous gin decently soaked up by all the chips she ate at the table, Rebecca orders another one. It gives her the boost necessary to bring her a second wind, and she finds herself on the outskirts of the dance floor with a few of the boys. They buy a round of shots and she thinks fuck it, it’s New Years as she downs one with them. 

She swallows down the tequila with little issue, her face unbothered as it warms her chest; she walks over to put the empty glass on the bartop and when she returns it’s to the boys cheering, the sheer volume of it kicking a laugh free. 

A younger guy pops out of nowhere a moment later, and Rebecca barely has a chance to register his hand on her waist before Jamie’s forcibly removing it. 

“Oi, don’t fucking touch her,” he says as he steps forward, putting himself between this guy and Rebecca. Isaac’s right behind, brows drawn as they stare at him. 

He mutters something under his breath but raises his hands in conceit and disappears back into the crowd. 

“You all right, boss?” Isaac asks. 

Rebecca blinks. She glances over to where the man’s retreating form is no longer visible and then between Jamie and Isaac. “Yes, I’m fine.” 

“You’re sure?”

“We’ll go find him, rough ‘im up a bit for touchin’ ya.” 

She smiles then, shaking her head. “I’m sure. Thank you, boys.”

Although unconvinced, they do eventually nod. After a few more minutes of them very sweetly but very unnecessarily watching her surroundings in case the unwanted man made a return, she manages to encourage them to go find the rest of the team and have some fun. With them gone she orders another drink at the bar and, as soon as she turns around, Keeley’s in her face.

“Christ,” she says, eyes falling closed and free hand flying to her chest. “You need a bell.”

“Babe, this is James,” Keeley says without preamble, gesturing to her left. 

It’s only thanks to the introduction that Rebecca even notices the man standing beside her. Keeley has one hand clutched on her shoulder, the other braced against the man’s bicep, presumably for balance. She leans in close to Rebecca’s ear, and even so she’s still half-shouting to be heard over the bumping base of the music. 

Rebecca smiles politely, offers a nod in hello. 

“You’re both fucking fit. Do something about it.”

And with a wink that makes Rebecca’s eyes narrow, Keeley’s gone in a flash of pink and a whip of that ponytail to her face. She splutters a bit and then huffs a laugh as she watches her saunter away, a drink already being placed into her extended hand by a waiting Roy. 

She stands there for a moment, blinking, wondering where the fuck Keeley even materialized from and how she’s now here with some random man and no Keeley. Not to be rude, Rebecca finally looks at this man, James. 

Light brown hair, bright eyes, model-like. Young. 

“Hi.” Inclining her head in the direction Keeley evaporated, she begins, “Sorry about her, she’s very…”

“Persistent.” 

Rebecca makes a low noise in agreement. “Yes. Persistent.” 

“Well… since I’m here, can I buy you a drink?” he asks, flashing her a smile. 

She raises the drink in her hand. “I’m good, thank you.” Because she’s not interested in giving mixed signals here, she begins to say, “Look, I know Keeley talked you into this—”

“You make it sound like a burden to be introduced to a beautiful woman.”

“That’s very sweet, but I’m seeing someone,” Rebecca says. 

James lets out a light, unsurprised laugh. “I knew it was too good to be true when Keeley said she wanted me to meet her best friend. Of course someone as stunning as you isn’t single,” he tells her. And then he asks: “Does Keeley know? I can’t imagine she’d…” He wave vaguely between the two of them. 

She shakes her head. “She does not. Not yet, anyway.”

He gives a small smile. “Ah. Understood.” He glances somewhere behind her, and then meets her gaze again. “Can we just talk for a little bit? Keeley was very adamant I come over here and she’s…”

“Small but scary?”

“Yes.”

“That she is,” she agrees. “Yes, that’d be fine.”

She finds out that James is an old friend of Keeley’s from her modeling days; it’s been years since they’ve seen each other and they just happened to run into each other here tonight. They started catching up, and out of nowhere she’d told him that there was someone she really wanted him to meet. 

The circumstances of it all intrigue her, but in the end James turns out to be a decent conversationalist and it’s not all bad. 

She catches sight of Keeley off to the side maybe five minutes in, peeking out over Roy’s shoulder like a fucking meerkat, and the girl shoots her a thumbs up. Ridiculous, that one. 

Rebecca shakes her head with a laugh. 

What she doesn’t notice, however, is Ted across the room watching her with James.

“There you are,” Rebecca says, coming up behind him. She runs a hand down his arm, but her easy joy tapers off when he turns and she sees the look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Nothin’, all good here. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

But worrying about a thing she is. 

She regards him curiously. Her eyes roam his face for a few moments before she takes hold of his wrist and tugs. He follows without issue, which she supposes is a good sign, allowing her to pull him out of the chaos and into a smaller, more secluded alcove beyond the bar. 

Once they’re hidden away from the bulk of the noise, Rebecca turns to him. “What is it?”

“Seriously, boss, I’m all right,” he tries with another one of those half-hearted lifts of his mouth. 

“You’re not, and I’d like to know why.”

Ted holds her attention for a beat before he sighs, gaze dipping away. “I just uh… I want you to know that if something better comes along, there are no hard feelings.”

Her forehead wrinkles with the furrow of her brows. “What?”

“You know, a better catch.”

“I don’t know.” Rebecca’s frown deepens, her head shaking slowly. “Ted, I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about right now.”

Finally, he just frees it:

“I saw you with that guy before and you two looked real nice. Pretty, ya know. He seems more your type and I wouldn’t blame you if you were considering... somethin’ else.”

It takes her nearly a full minute to even realize what guy he’s referring to. When she does, she lets out a quiet laugh. 

“That was Keeley’s old modeling friend, James. He was perfectly nice—”

“Good,” Ted cuts in, clearing his throat. “Nice is good.” 

“But,” she starts again, arching a brow. “He’s all of thirty and most certainly not my type.” 

His eyes lift to hers. “No?”

“No,” she says with an almost incredulous huff. “Ted, I told you I love you just this morning. What could possibly make you think I’d throw away what we have for some model almost twenty years my junior? Have I done something to make you feel like I’m not in this?”

She doesn’t think she has. She surely hopes not.

Ted shakes his head, taking hold of her hand. “No. Rebecca, no. It’s not you; you haven’t done anything,” he promises. “I just…”

Tiny seeds of doubt can get the best of anyone, she knows. She knows this perhaps better than most people, given her track record with dating and relationships. 

She wants to dispel those qualms quickly and surely. 

“The only person I’ll be kissing at midnight is you,” she says, her arms draped over his shoulders and her eyes soft as they meet his. 

The catch in his chest releases and he’s able to huff out a tease. “Only at midnight?”

There’s still that little bit of uncertainty mixed in, he can’t help it, and she must be able to sense it. He’s not sure what the tell is, whether it’s a funny quality to his voice or a look on his face, but Rebecca softens, leaning in to dust a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Ted, I want you,” Rebecca says, a sweet smile on her face. She cups his cheek, her thumb caressing his skin. “Only you. Right now. At midnight. Beyond.” 

His cheeks bunch beneath her palm, an affectionate smile that has his dimples peeking out from beneath the stubble. She dips her thumbs into the divots. 

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” 

“Not just a guy, Ted. You. You’re the only person I’m saying this to.” With a small knot between her brows, she asks, “Do you doubt that?” 

“No, ‘course not, it’s not—” He shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re entertaining a bunch of—I mean, not entertaining, I don’t think you’re… I’m talkin’ myself into a deeper hole here, huh?” 

Rebecca arches a brow, though there’s amusement in the purse of her lips. “Care to try that again?”

He takes a deep breath, one hand on her waist when he says, “I know I’m the only one you’re sayin’ this to. I know that; I’m not doubtin’ that. I’m just… I feel so lucky, ya know, that you could have any guy in here—heck, any guy anywhere probably—and it’s still… me. So when I saw you with that guy before, saw him chattin’ you up and saw how young and good lookin’ he was, I started doubtin’... not you, never you, just whether you were makin’ the right decision.”

“Ted…”

“Just got a little jealous. Maybe a little insecure.” 

He says it with a shrug, nonchalant, but Rebecca can see through it. She can see through it and she hates that there’s even a tiny bit of him that’s insecure in this, in them, hates that he thinks for even a moment that she doesn’t consider herself the lucky one in this relationship. 

Because she does. 

It’s still unfathomable most days that this kind, generous, beautiful human being, this bright spot in the fucking storm, is who she gets to spend her forever with. If someone had tried to tell her this was her future a few years ago she’d have called them positively mad. 

Before meeting Ted, she wouldn’t have thought herself deserving of someone like him, someone so good. Not when she felt for so long that she ruined good things. Even after meeting Ted, right up until the moment she began to consider that perhaps he actually felt the same about her, she wouldn’t have thought for a single second that he would want her—someone so seemingly irreparably damaged, so burdened and cold. 

Of course it was Ted who helped her realize that there’s nothing about her that’s damaged beyond repair, that her burdens are lighter split between two sets of shoulders, that she isn’t cold, she’s just hurting and healing. 

She slides one hand up, her fingers disappearing into his hair at his temple. With her thumb dusting along his hairline, she leans in to smooth her lips to his in a soft kiss. 

“Ignoring the fact that a large percentage of men in this country think I’m either a horrible shrew who wronged Rupert or see me as ‘Randy Rebecca’, let’s say for argument’s sake that you’re right and I could have any guy in this room,” she starts, pressing her forefinger to the wrinkle that appears between his brows at her words. “It doesn’t matter. You know why?”

“Why?” 

Rebecca smiles. “Because other men may want me. They may find me desirable. But quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck.” He chuckles. “The only man I care about wanting me is right here,” she says, her touch falling away so she can drape her arms over his shoulders. Her head cocked, her fingers link at the back of his neck. “Got it?”

“Got it,” he agrees, lips curving into something tender.

“And just so there’s no doubt, I’ve woken up every morning for the past six days feeling nothing but unimaginably lucky that you love me back.” Her eyes survey his face, taking in the gentle expression displayed there. “There’s nothing uneven about this relationship, Ted.” 

His hands glide upward from her waist, traveling over her ribcage until they land on her collarbones on either side of her chest. “Loving you is the easiest thing in the world,” he says earnestly. “I don’t think there’s a universe out there where I don’t love you.”

Oh, she’s absolutely ravaging him tonight. 

For now, though, she settles for another kiss—soft and sweet, but with so much behind it.

“I love you,” she sighs. And then, conscious of the small alcove they’re in, nestled near the bathrooms, she brushes one final peck to his lips and unhooks her arms. “Come on, let’s go get another drink.” 

“And make sure the team’s not causin’ a ruckus?”

“And make sure the team’s not causing a ruckus.”

Ted smiles at the sound of ruckus coming out of her mouth and she stalks away, adding an extra sway to her hips to shut him up.

Once his breath returns, he follows her lead. 

“Dance with me, Coach.”

Rebecca leads Ted onto the dance floor, finally slipping into the thick of the crowd for the first time that night. The music blares, the bass pulsing through her chest. She keeps a hold on him, arms once again wrapped around his neck.

“Rebecca,” he murmurs, eyes darting around to where the boys continue to party, to where their friends are huddled. “Everyone’s gonna see us dancin’ like this.”

“I don’t care.” 

“You’re sure?” 

With a hum of assent, she pulls him closer. “We’ll be making out in front of all of them in less than two hours. This is hardly obscene.” 

The tightness of his slacks with each brush of her body feels otherwise, but he takes her at her word and allows his hands to slide around to her hips. 

“Think of it as a preview,” she muses against his neck.

“For them or for me?” he asks, voice rough.

Rebecca pulls back slightly, smirking at him. She leans in slowly then, her lips ghosting along the shell of his ear when she says, “Wait and find out.”

It’ll be a miracle if he makes it to midnight.

By the time midnight’s approach finally creeps closer, just about ten minutes now, Rebecca’s more than ready to go home. She’s been having more fun this evening than she thought she would when Keeley told her the venue had been switched, but she’s itching to touch Ted in ways that would be highly inappropriate for a public setting. 

She’s itching to have Ted touch her in ways that are absolutely not suitable for an audience, no matter how many times Keeley might try to convince her otherwise. If you ever feel like dipping your toe into a bit of exhibitionism you better give me a call, yeah? The cheek. 

She’s determined, Rebecca will give her that. 

As the minutes count down, she gathers with their group. Keeley and Roy are huddled together, Beard’s leaning against the bartop with a beer in hand, the boys are on the other end of the bar, and Ted is beside her. Her body is warm with his proximity and she leans into it, her shoulders bumping against his. 

The countdown reaches 60 seconds and she rolls her head to face him. “You almost ready to blow this thing wide open?”

“Never been more ready.” 

At ten seconds, Rebecca lets her temple rest against his for a brief moment. At seven, Ted pulls away and risks a brief kiss there just because. 

“Three…”

They turn to look at each other.

“Two…”

Rebecca smiles, a conspiratorial thing. 

“One…”

They lean in as everyone’s shouting Happy New Year! around them, the sounds of cheering and celebration the backdrop to their first public kiss. Ted’s lips on hers are soft and taste of the beer he’s been drinking all night; when she slips her tongue into his mouth like she promised she would, he chuckles into it, his smile broadening against her lips. 

She’s not sure how long the kiss goes on—probably not long at all, a few seconds at most—but it’s a gasp followed by a squeal at her side that finally breaks them apart. 

“Happy New Year, Ted,” Rebecca whispers quietly against his cheek. 

She steps back from him and wipes lightly at the corner of her mouth, a slow smirk creeping up at the look of pure shock on Keeley’s face; she gapes at her, unmoving and blinking, before she knocks herself free from her stupor and lets out:

“Holy shit, Rebecca.” 

Beard is off to the side, looking amused but unsurprised. Roy stands behind Keeley, staring between the two of them with what might be a smile curving at the corner of his mouth. 

“I knew there was something going on,” Keeley cries as she flings herself at Rebecca, her arms looping around her neck. 

Rebecca laughs, her free hand flat at her friend’s shoulder blades. “You did not.”

“Not with Ted, but I knew something was different.”

It takes a second, but then something slots into place. 

“That’s why you threw James at me, isn’t it? To get me to admit there was a reason I would not be doing something about it?” 

Keeley grins. “Perhaps.” Giving another squeeze, she says, “You’re glowing all the fucking time, babe, and you’ve been so… happy.” 

To the side, Ted’s chest warms at the external confirmation that he makes Rebecca happy. He doesn’t need it, not really, he knows this fact for himself, but it’s nice to hear that it’s a visible kind of happiness she exudes. 

“I figured you were either pregnant or getting properly plowed and you’d come tell me whichever one it was when the time was right,” Keeley continues. And then she pauses, letting out a little hm sound. “Though I suppose one of those would point toward the other one also being true…”

The skin of Ted’s neck flushes a deep pink. He meets Rebecca’s eyes over Keeley’s shoulder and notices the apples of her cheeks are the same shade. 

They haven’t actually slept together, not yet, the glow Keeley’s referencing simply the result of… bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. 

But Keeley doesn’t know that, nor does she know they’ve only been together six days—though they’ve been something much longer—and Rebecca’s certainly not going to tell her right here. So, she just licks at her lips, lets out a quiet laugh, and shakes her head. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“So,” Keeley says as she pulls back, elongating the o sound into a question. “Pregnant or properly plowed?”

Rebecca rolls her eyes, but it’s fond. 

“You do realize I’m forty seven.” 

“Age is just a number, babe. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

With an arched brow and quirked lips, she makes a show of twisting her wrist and lifting the gin and tonic in her left hand into Keeley’s line of sight. 

Bending forward, she gives two exaggerated sniffs, as if Rebecca might be trying to pass off clear soda or water as gin. But just as she’s uttering an amused huff of her name, Keeley winks at her and leans back, immediately turning around to find Ted.

She grins, clapping him on the shoulder with a proud, “Oi, way to go, Ted.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Rebecca mutters, though she’s unable to keep the laugh out of her voice. 

Keeley’s got her arm draped around Ted’s shoulders, her smile as bright as the flush on his cheeks. She turns to look at him, beaming even wider at the bashful look on his face; she leans further into his side, shaking his shoulders in good fun. 

She plants a kiss onto his cheek and then releases him. “Brilliant job, yeah?”

“I uh—I’m… thank you?”

Rebecca snorts. “Right answer.” And then she pauses, turning her attention back to her friend. “Wait. Let me get this straight. You thought I might be pregnant and your response was to… try to get me to shag a stranger?”

“I knew you wouldn’t actually do it. Duh,” she says, as if that’s obvious. Of course. “I was just trying to give you a nudge in the right direction.” 

“That right direction being… to tell you I can’t sleep with James because I’m either already seeing someone or having someone else’s child.”

She nods. “Yeah, exactly.”

Rebecca laughs. “You are something else, you know that?”

“I do.”

Keeley smirks. She sidles back over to her side, ponytail swaying with her bounce. Her arms come back around her and, sobered this time, more genuine, says, “I’m so happy for you, babe. You deserve this, yeah?”

She melts into her small friend’s embrace, smiling her thanks at Ted when he plucks her drink from her grip so she can hug her properly. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs. 

“You two are actually perfect for each other, you know? A bit nauseatingly, now that I think about it.”

Nodding against her, she sighs an amused but content little sound. 

“Yeah,” she says, eyes dragging to where Ted’s twisted away just slightly as he speaks to Beard. He swivels his head a moment later, either sensing her attention or seeking her out independent of it; when he meets her gaze he smiles, a warm, loving thing that lights her heart ablaze. “I think so, too.”

Most of them begin filtering out not long after midnight, save for a handful of the boys who decide to stick around for a few more drinks. 

“Y’all have fun, but be safe,” Ted tells them on their way out, Rebecca at his side, her arm in his. 

The boys’ reactions range from smirks to nods to Sam’s sweet, “you all get home safe, too,” and then they’re making their way toward the front of the club with Keeley and Roy following them. Beard makes the last minute decision to stay behind, too, citing the need to dance to blow off some of the lingering energy. Neither of them question it, just nod, though Rebecca wonders where exactly he gets all of his energy from. 

Outside on the sidewalk, Keeley latches onto Rebecca again; Ted releases her so she can melt against her friend, arms looped around her back. 

“I’d ask if you two want to come back with us for a few more drinks,” Keeley whispers into Rebecca’s ear, “but I have a feeling you’ve already got plans for that man.”

“I think I’ve hit my drink limit for the evening, but another night?”

“Absolutely,” she nods against her. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt your New Year’s shag.”

She bites at her lip. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” she says, holding tighter for a moment before she leans back to look her in the eye. “Now go get laid, babe. You deserve it.”

Rebecca squeezes her arms and then releases her, and they all switch saying their goodbyes. Ted gets wrapped in an enthusiastic hug by Keeley, who’s no doubt murmuring something scandalous to him if the tips of his red ears are any indication, and Rebecca finds herself in an uncharacteristically tight Roy hug. 

“Lightning?” he asks gruffly in her ear. 

She doesn’t need to ask; she remembers his speech vividly. 

At the time she couldn’t imagine what that felt like, couldn’t imagine ever feeling it for herself. Now, with Ted, she can’t imagine how she ever let herself settle for anything less. 

With a soft breath, she tells him: “Yes.” 

“Good.” Roy turns to Ted once they’ve broken apart. “Get her home safe.”

Rebecca gives a fond roll of her eyes, but Ted’s serious when he nods and replies, “I sure will, Royo. You and Keels, too.”

And then there’s only two. 

Her head falls to his shoulder and she lets out a quiet sigh. Ted’s arm wraps around her and, with a brief kiss to her forehead, he squeezes her waist. 

“You wanna get outta here?”

Rebecca cranes her neck to smile at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Ted,” she purrs in his ear as soon as the door closes behind them, her arms wrapped around his middle in the middle of her entryway. 

His grip tightens on her waist. “Hm?”

“Take me upstairs.”

“You’re sure?” he asks, which is both endearing and exasperating. She huffs against his skin. “I just wanna make sure this is you talkin’ and not the gin, darlin’. There’s no rush.”

Rebecca pulls back, offers a sweet smile. “You’ve seen me drunk plenty of times now, haven’t you?”

Memories of an adorable, drunk Rebecca flood his mind and it lifts at the corner of his mouth. 

“I have. And you’re mighty cute, might I add.” 

She rolls her lips together. “Right. Do I seem drunk to you right now?”

“No,” he says, because she doesn’t. But he still needs to be certain, because she has been drinking, drunk or not. “Though you’re still real cute.”

“Just cute?” she asks, tilting her head and arching a brow. 

Ted leans closer, trailing his hands up her neck and into her hair. “You’re never just anything.”

Her eyes search his face for all of three seconds before she’s on him, her mouth covering his with an urgency he can feel radiating off of her body. His palms slide down to cup her cheeks when they pull apart; when she grins at him, bright and sweet and so full of love, he presses another quick kiss to her lips. 

“Ted.” He looks at her in question. “I want you.”

He thinks he might be the luckiest man alive. 

With a light chuckle, Ted removes his hands from her face to trail them over her neck, her shoulders, down her arms until he can intertwine their fingers. 

“Honey, you’ve got no idea.”

Rebecca’s laugh when they stumble into her room, her back knocking against the edge of her dresser, digs roots into his chest. Still, one hand slips around her body to cup at the base of her spine and buffer it from the hardwood. 

“You okay?” he asks. The corner of that dresser is mighty pointy. 

Her answer is to smooth a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Never been better.”

His hands disappear beneath the hem of her top, palms sliding up her sides until the tips of his fingers graze along her ribcage. Rebecca hums at the touch, pushing at his chest to guide him across the room toward her bed. 

She drags her hands down his front to grab at his sweater, tugging it upward until she’s able to pull it from his body. Once it’s off and he’s still clad in a plain white shirt, she grumbles.

“Really,” she shakes her head. “Do you ever wear just one shirt?” 

“Sure. If I’m wearin’ a t-shirt.”

“Mad,” she mutters, but her tone is fond as she paws at that next, divesting him of it. Once he’s finally shirtless, her eyes rake over his bare chest. “This is what you’ve been hiding under all those polos? Christ, Ted.” 

It’s not like she hasn’t gotten glimpses over the past week, moments when his shirt’s ridden up to expose a tantalizing piece of skin, but seeing it all and having free reign to touch is different. It’s intoxicating, has want doubling in her abdomen. 

“Well, thank you kindly,” he says, a charming blush on his cheeks. 

Despite her earlier urgency, they take their time undressing each other. Ted presses light kisses to each new piece of skin revealed to him, each brush of his lips making her sigh, goosebumps prickling in their wake. Meanwhile, Rebecca’s hands roam greedily over his body, nails scraping lightly down his arms, his ribs, the back of his neck. 

Together, they finally make it onto the bed, Rebecca sprawled out beneath him; her hands find a home on either cheek as she hauls him down to her, their kiss passionate but unhurried. 

Ted begins his descent, tracing between her breasts and under their curves with the tips of his fingers before he cups one in his palm. As expected, the weight of them is perfect; even more perfect is the tiny gasp of a breath Rebecca lets out when he swipes his thumb over her nipple. It pebbles beneath his touch and he kisses her harder. 

When his hand slides further, back over her ribs and across her abdomen, he can feel her muscles contract. It makes him smile, as does the breathless fuck he gets when he finally touches her. She’s already so wet, so warm, the desire coursing through his veins is almost painful; his cock twitches when she clenches around the two fingers he slips into her and it’s a real test of his restraint to not come right there. 

She has him feeling like a teenager again.

“Christ,” she exhales, her back arching as she cants up against his hand. 

His thumb circles her clit as he pumps his fingers, playing with pressure and speed until he works out what she seems to like best. The quickening of her breaths, the little moans, the gruff sighs—he doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything more beautiful. 

It takes only a few more flicks of her clit and a strategic curling of his fingers against her outer walls to have her breaking. Her legs close tightly around his thighs and her head falls back into the pillow with a choked, “God.” 

Is a woman, he thinks. And her name is Rebecca Welton. 

Ted slowly pulls his fingers from her and lowers himself down. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles against her mouth. Her cheeks flush as she angles her face away, and Ted hums. “I’m gonna keep tellin’ you until you believe it. Until you see exactly what I see when I look at you.” 

“Ted,” she starts, but he quiets her with another brush of his lips. 

“Nope. You’re beautiful,” he repeats, pressing a kiss to her pink cheek. “Gorgeous.” To her forehead. “Inside and out.” To the tip of her nose. 

Rebecca giggles, a sound that’s still so new to him but oh so heartwarming. Hits right between his ribs, digs in, settles down. He wants to hear it every day for the rest of his life.

“Ted, seriously,” she muses. 

But she’s smiling and her eyes are sparkling and he’s never felt more in love. 

“I love you, you silly man.” 

“I love you, too,” he says. “But do you believe me?”

He expects a yes, the easiest response, but she surprises him with honesty instead. “I’m working on it,” she tells him, and he thinks that makes him love her more. 

“I look forward to helpin’ you get there.”

“Me too,” she smiles, craning her neck to kiss the corner of his mouth. When he starts to slide down her body, his intent clear, she holds tight on his biceps. “And I’d really love to know what that mustache feels like on my clit, but if you don’t get inside me right this second I won’t survive long enough to see the day.”

He laughs, scooting back up. “I hear ya, honey.” 

Ted situates himself more completely between her legs. She spreads them wider to make room for him and he groans at the sight; when he glances back up, Rebecca’s smirking.

“You know exactly what you’re doin’ to me,” he says, to which she shrugs with a very pleased lift of her lips. When he’s close enough she reaches down and takes hold of him, her fingers wrapped around his cock as she strokes him from root to tip. He has to grab her wrist to stall her. “If you keep doin’ that I’m afraid we’re not gonna get to the main event.”

She shoots him a coy smile. “Later then,” she says, a promise. It makes his skin burn. 

As does the way her thumb brushes over his tip before her touch falls away. 

Ted pushes her hair away from her face, tucking a rogue strand behind her ear. “Do you want me to grab a condom?”

She shakes her head. “No. I’m covered.”

He doesn’t press and for that she’s grateful. He just says, “okay,” and positions himself. 

Rebecca slides her hands around his ribs to hold at either shoulder blade, her nails digging in and her eyes slipping closed when he finally, finally sinks into her. He goes slow, allowing her to adjust with each small thrust until he’s able to bottom out. 

He’s perfect. They fit together so fucking seamlessly and it nearly makes her laugh, because of course they do, of course this is how it’s supposed to feel. Full and safe and loved. 

“Okay?” 

Her eyes flutter open. “Better than,” she says. “Move. Please.” 

Ted obeys, pulling almost all the way out of her before pushing back in and setting the most delicious rhythm. She clings to him, her legs locking around his back and changing the angle into something that has her seeing sparks against the insides of her eyelids. 

She scrapes her nails down his spine after a particularly delicious drive of his hips. “Fuck,” she hisses, tugging him down more completely on top of her. 

With him this close, she bores her teeth into the flesh where his shoulder and neck meet. Ted gasps, slamming into her with a thrust that feels involuntary; her mouth drops open in a moan and then, as soon as she catches her breath again, she presses her lips to the spot she bit, licking at the marks left on his skin. 

“Jesus, Rebecca,” he pants against her hair. “You feel so good.”

She tightens around him in response, lost in the feeling. He’s everywhere, all at once, and she doesn’t know what else to do with it but to let it happen. To release control and give herself over to the moment, to Ted. 

“So do you,” she whispers. She closes her eyes and focuses on him, on them, on how in the three decades she’s been having sex it has never felt like this for her. Not even close. “You make me feel… fuck, so good.”

He dips his head to kiss her jaw and she tips her neck back to give him better access. He takes it, trailing his lips down the column of her throat. His tongue laves at her, no doubt tasting her vanilla body lotion and perfume. He doesn’t seem to mind, though; he dips his tongue into the hollow of her collar bones as the tip of his cock pushes even deeper and she lets out a series of unholy sounds that only make him move faster. 

“Oh my god,” Rebecca keens, her hips rolling against his. 

Ted switches it up, encouraged by each little noise she makes. Short and sweet, slow and drawn out, soft and hard. Each iteration makes her feel like she’s about to burst out of her skin. The pleasure is overwhelming and the emotions swirling in her gut heighten the intensity of the tug of the band in her abdomen. 

She doesn’t even notice that she’s crying until she feels Ted’s hand on her face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, halting his movements. The pad of his thumb brushes beneath her eye to swipe at the moisture there. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

A wet chuckle slips free. “You think very highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“Rebecca, I’m serious.”

With a reassuring albeit wobbly smile, Rebecca’s right hand covers his on her cheek. The other raises to his own, her thumb ghosting along his mustache. 

“You have done the exact opposite of hurt me.”

His uncertainty remains. “You’re sure?” Wiping away another tear track, he tells her: “I don’t like seein’ these.” 

“Good tears,” she assures him. Her eyes search his, imploring him to believe her, to understand exactly what she’s feeling. So far from pain. “I just… I love you so much. I’ve never felt like this before and it’s… overwhelming. In the best possible way.” 

Ted softens at that, his eyes kind when he peers down at her. “I feel the same,” he admits with a smile, a delicate closed-mouth thing. “I love you with everything I’ve got, darlin’.” 

Rebecca grips him by the back of the neck and pulls him down, her tongue slipping past the seam of his lips. The tips of her fingers push into his hair, tugging just so, just enough to get him to moan against her mouth and shift his hips that little bit. 

When she releases him, she looks him in the eyes. And with damp, bunched cheeks, she tells him: 

“Now give me everything you’ve got.” 

Awareness comes to Rebecca slowly as she rouses. 

The chirping of birds outside; the light dipping in through the window, cascading past the curtains and blooming against the backs of her eyelids; the pleasant ache between her legs and the looseness of her muscles.

And Ted. 

His soft breaths against her neck, his chest warm at her back, and his fingers tracing light patterns along the curve of her bare hip. 

Her smile is involuntary and immediate. 

Rebecca hums, rolling her shoulders back into him. He chuckles and releases his hold while she rolls onto her back, though not for long. As soon as she’s settled, her head lolled so she can face him, his arm loops back around her middle to hold her near. 

“Hi,” she says, her voice rough with sleep. It’s precious. 

Her hair is a wild mess of blonde and the edges of it tickle at his face but it makes him grin. He can’t believe he really gets to wake up like this every day for the rest of his life; Rebecca in his arms—naked or not, though naked certainly is a perk—and cloaked in the early morning sun. 

“Hi,” he echoes. “How are you feelin’ this morning?”

Rebecca sighs contentedly. Her left arm stretches across the top of his pillow so she can drag her nails lightly along his scalp, while her right hand finds him to intertwine their fingers. Her eyes flicker back to his and they’re so beautiful like this, brightened by the natural light. 

For the first time in a long time, answering this question doesn’t require any thought. It doesn’t require her to check in with herself, to assess how she’s feeling, or to, like she’s been hardwired to for the past two decades, lie. 

Instead, she can feel the truth coursing through her. It buoys her from the inside out, makes her feel warm and weightless and unburdened. 

With a soft smile, no doubt in her mind, and her heart safe in Ted’s hands, she tells him:

"Happy."