Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ted likes her legs.

At least, she thinks he does. It would explain the blushes, the glances, infrequent though they are.

It would also explain her sudden aversion to pants.

It could just be chance, the few times she catches him glancing away from her legs, letting his attention be drawn by literally anything else, a little pink coming into his cheeks.

It's not enough to be certain, but she has a feeling she knows how to parse him out.

She actually rather enjoys staying late at the club – watching the sunset over the pitch, turning on the lamps scattered through the office to cast a warm glow through the room, putting some music on, quiet and soothing. It’s the most calming and relaxing way to tie up any loose strings from the day and sort out her plans for the next one. Not to mention the quiet sense of power she receives from reminding herself that this was her space, her building, her office, to be in as she pleased, and as long as she pleased.

After everything she’d been through to get it, she counts it as a major win that she finally feels really truly at home here. So it’s easy to kick off her heels and cross her feet on the corner of her desk, flipping through papers in her lap.

She hadn’t even known he was still in the building until she looked up to see him in her doorway, one knuckle against the door like he’d planned on knocking and simply hadn't gotten that far.

“Ted,” she says, a smile spreading across her face totally of its own volition. She tenses to sit up and drop her feet back to the floor, but stops herself as he moves into the office. Despite the low light, she can see his eyes – specifically where they're sliding along what's visible of her legs, knee to ankle, a touch of color coming into his cheeks. Well, she thinks, that's interesting.

“Evenin’, boss,” he says, his voice low and smooth as he comes to stand before her desk. She shifts in her seat and he's close enough now for his eyes to slip down to the hem of her skirt and then float up her legs, only making it to her knee before he catches himself and snaps them back to her face. The color on his cheeks darkens further. “This is like a whole other place after sunset. Like a fancy little jazz club up here. I like it.” He grins at her, a little bashfully, like he knows he’s been caught.

Oh, that is definitely, definitely interesting. She gives him a crooked smile, wordlessly letting him off the hook. "I've always been a bit of a night owl. And I'd rather get comfy here than take work home."

He sits across from her, then shifts a little restlessly, "I hear ya, I hear ya."

It's the simplicity of his response that implores her to have mercy on him, dropping her feet down to the floor. She almost laughs when he visibly relaxes. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this late night, biscuitless biscuits with the boss?"

He chuckles and it sends a rush of pleasure through her, as it does every time she manages to make him laugh. "I was headed out, and saw your car all by it's lonesome outside. Thought I'd come up and make sure everything was alright."

"Oh, yes, just going over a couple things. It helps me,” she gestures around her head with one hand, “get all sorted for tomorrow.”

His lips twitch into a smile, “Anything I can help with?”

She tries to stop it, she really does, the melting of her expression into something way softer than she’s used to. Maybe it's the low, almost intimate lighting, or her tiredness from the long day, or maybe it's just him, his low voice, his calming presence, his unending kindness – either way that familiar, specific cocktail of awe, disbelief and tenderness she feels every time he holds his hand out makes its way from her heart straight to her face.

She tosses the papers from her lap onto the desk, unable to do anything but sit and look at him.

He tilts his head and raises a questioning eyebrow. "What?" he laughs.

“Nothing,” she says, feeling loose, unguarded, like the smile on her face is giving away every secret of her heart. She wonders if this is what it feels like to trust someone, trust them completely. “You’re very kind but no, I think I’ve got everything set.”

“Alright,” he murmurs. “Can I walk you out?”

She nods and they both stand, Rebecca looking around for her heels.

“Shoes?” Ted asks, pointing to the floor at the front side of the desk.

She nods again and comes around the desk, doing a double take as she moves closer to him. “Well, that’s different.”

She moves to stand directly in front of him in her stocking feet, finding herself looking up at least four centimeters to meet his eyes.

“Oh, see, now this just feels wrong,” he mutters, and it’s not until he does that she realizes just how close she is to him. Close enough that one of his hands is hovering halfway to her waist, as if pulling her into his arms was a familiar, practiced reaction to her stepping into his space.

“Interesting,” she says, distracted by his eyes at this proximity, the jagged ring of gold that spirals along the outside of his iris. She likes this actually, looking up at him, just for it being new and unusual. Likes that being the taller one is one more thing they can share.

“Bet if I took my sneakers off we’d be eye to eye.” His voice is hushed and the intimacy of it jars her enough to pull her from her thoughts.

She hums in agreement as she steps away, sitting in the other chair and reaching for her heels. She feels him watching as she slides them on. She peeks up at where he's now leaning against the desk, arms crossed, eyes somewhere near her calf. When she stands again, he watches her rise, a sparkle in his eye that she can’t fully sort out. Attraction, yes, but tinged with admiration and respect.

As they walk through the quiet club, she thinks back. She’s not sure anyone’s ever looked at her with that specific combination before.

She lingers at the edge of the Green just long enough to spot him before she joins the group. Already, each player has a little group of kids around them, learning how to dribble, or bounce the football off the ground up onto their knee, or different spins and step overs.

She sees Ted off to the side, just watching now, scanning the little groups with eyes, smiling at the little feet trying to mimic the players’ actions. He’s got a whistle looped around his neck, and its position between his lips tells her he probably only just got everyone sorted out into groups.

She’s here for the club, for the team and for the community but there is a part of her – she won't admit to how large that part is – that’s here to test her theory. That’s why she’s got her eyes on Ted as she heads his way.

And, oh, is she glad she does. He spots her quickly, and his reaction is, well, priceless.

His smile starts to widen around the whistle before it fades completely and the whistle drops straight to his chest. She’d laugh if there weren’t so many people around. She watches his eyes widen as they skim down her legs and then take their time traveling back up.

She’s dressed totally appropriate for the day – not even testing her theory would make her push that boundary – in loose black shorts falling to her mid thigh, Richmond kit and trainers. If her legs look ridiculously long even in the most modest of shorts, well, she really just can’t help that.

He’s composed himself back into a smile once she finally reaches him, his ears just a little too pink to be blamed on the midday sun.

“Howdy, boss,” he says. And that’s all he says.

“Hi, Ted,” she drops her bag behind him a little ways, under the tent they’ve set up for drinks and snacks. When she turns back to him, he still hasn’t said anything else. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good,” he smiles in the direction of the kids.

My god, she thinks, I broke him.

“You alright, Ted?” she asks.

“Yep, I’m great. Doin’ swell.” He turns to look at her and only drops his eyes down for a second.

“Have I broken you?” she blurts out and then feels a little ashamed when he flushes beet red.

“Jesus, boss, I’m sorry, that’s not– I shouldn’t be–”

“Ted,” she cuts him off, dragging him a little further from everyone, feeling Beard’s eyes on them from his spot across the field. “It’s alright.”

She smiles at him but he’s looking at his feet. "No, I don't have any right to– it's–"

"Ted," she says firmly, taking his face in her hands. "Listen to me."

He looks up and snaps his mouth shut, looking grim, ready to face his sentence. She almost wants to roll her eyes.

"I am aware you like my legs," and at that he closes his eyes, looking a little mortified but cracks them open again when she chuckles. "I have no problem with you looking at my legs." His eyebrows come together, but he doesn't ask, trusting her to see the question in his face. "I'm going to try to explain something to you that men seem to have a hard time grasping."

He nods and she lets her hands drop from his face.

"For me personally, there is a difference between a random sleezy guy checking me out on the street, just looking at my parts, and someone I trust and care about looking at me with appreciation, someone who I know is seeing all of me."

He nods again, brows still drawn.

"I know where you fall, Ted. I have never felt uncomfortable or degraded under your gaze. Catching you looking never makes me feel anything but good things. Alright?"

"You're sure," he says, hesitant, maybe still confused as to why he's being granted this privilege.

She blushes a little to admit it but, knowing it’ll make him feel better, she says, “Ted…I may or may not have had you in mind when I selected this outfit, okay?”

She watches the hesitance fade and a grin spread across his face despite his efforts to contain it, biting his lips and turning away, the red on his cheeks settling into a gentle pink. “Alright,” he says quietly.

They’re silent for a while as they watch the team and their little groups of kids, stealing glances at each other out of the corners of their eyes, trading bashful smiles.

Eventually, it's time to rotate the groups, pulling Ted away from their little bubble. She gets assigned a group of the cutest little girls she’s ever seen by Roy, and ends up sitting in the grass answering questions about her height and owning a football team and whether or not she is a queen instead of teaching them any football skills.

She catches Ted’s eyes more than once, sharing a laugh when he gestures to the girls making mud pies next to her. She just shrugs and then giggles when he mouths “mysterious” at her.

As the day wears on the groups break down, most of them gathering around where Sam and Issac are trying to show each other up with trick moves. The crowd of kids slowly depletes as parents appear to take them home and then they’re down to a group of local kids scrimmaging with some of the players.

Rebecca finds herself alone with a football. Lamenting just a tiny bit that she didn’t get to show off at least a little today, she deftly rolls the ball up onto her toe, snapping it up to bounce it off her knee, grinning wide when she gets it perfect, first try.

She hears a low whistle as the ball drops to the ground, turning to find Ted approaching her, “See, I just knew you had skills.”

She shrugs, but keeps grinning, “Nobody in this country didn’t play as a kid, at least once.”

“But can you do it twice?” he taunts and in an instant she knows he just wants to see it again. She quirks an eyebrow at him to let him know she’s onto him and he just grins back.

She executes the move perfectly a second time, adding an extra bounce off the inside off her foot. He shakes his head, “You’re gonna have to teach me one of these days, boss.”

“I think there are professional footballers nearby who might be better suited than I, Coach." She kicks the ball off, sending it right to where Beard is packing them into ball bags. He sends her a little salute that she mimics right back.

“I think I’d much rather learn from you,” Ted says, watching her with a smile as they head toward the low retaining wall just behind them at the edge of the Green.

She just shakes her head as they sit, turning her face into the sun, feeling its warmth spread through her. “I shouldn’t at all be surprised that you’re amongst the dying breed of leg men, Ted. It makes perfect sense.”

“How’s that?” he prompts, his voice low.

She opens her eyes to see him watching her fondly, “I feel like it's the most…respectful option. Less vulgar, maybe, a little more PG.”

He starts to respond with obvious disagreement before he stops, smiling as he puts his knuckle to his mouth. “You know, I think my mouth is determined to get me into trouble today,” is what he says instead.

And, oh, there’s no way she’s letting that go. “Oh, you absolutely have to say it now.” He starts to shake his head, “Come on, we’re friends, Ted, even if you do say something asinine, which doesn't seem likely, I’ll just put you to rights. Trust me.”

“Alright, alright,” he says. “I just…well, to me there’s very little that’s PG about imagining a woman’s legs wrapped around your waist,” he pauses, flicking his eyes at her before looking back out at the Green, “or draped over your shoulders.”

Well, fuck.

Which must be the only thought showing on her face because he chuckles and suddenly the sound is extremely sexy.

“Jesus, Ted,” she says, shifting unconsciously as she crosses her legs in front of her, laughing, mostly at herself, a little at him, “Saying shit like that isn’t going to get you in trouble, it’s going to get you laid.”

He chuckles again and turns to her, voice low and deep, “Is it, now?” And he says just over the top enough that she knows he wants her to laugh it off with him, but she can see enough desire in his eyes to know that if she ever…

She laughs and murmurs, “Christ.” She stands, fanning herself with exaggeration, joking as she rises, “Who knew Lasso had moves?”

She hears his chuckle again as she walks away, turning to catch his eye over her shoulder as she heads back to the cleanup happening on the Green. He tosses her a wink and she just shakes her head in disbelief. Jesus.

When she looks back again, he’s looking down at the ground, shaking his head with a huge goofy smile on his face and there he is, the Ted she knows and loves.

But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t think about this new side of Ted for the rest of the week.

It’s a little addicting, the look in his eye when he barrels in to deliver his biscuits to find her on the sofa, legs stretched out on the coffee table. Or crossed in front of her as she leans back against her desk.

She thinks maybe she’s crossing a line, she’s his boss for Christ’s sake, but every blush comes with a look of fond amusement, like he knows what she’s doing. She worries, still, knowing Ted, that he wouldn’t say anything if it did make him uncomfortable.

So she dials it back, for professionalism's sake. Mostly. Unless she absolutely cannot resist.

Like late Friday afternoon, in Ted’s office, where she’s become accustomed to being every week with him and Beard and Roy and Keeley and Higgins, just catching up, chatting about nothing in particular. It means something that it’s always here that they all converge and she feels a familiar awe at how easily Ted has instilled real camaraderie in a club where no one ever wanted to linger before.

This week everyone’s there, going back and forth about weekend plans, or the upcoming gala, when Jamie and Thierry and Colin join them, sliding in as everyone in the room shifts to pull them into the loose circle around the room. She ends up behind Ted’s desk, between it and where he’s rolled himself next to the window that, inexplicably, Higgins is on the other side of.

She loses track of the multiple conversations happening around her as she sees the opportunity fall into her lap. She tries to stop herself, really, until she catches Ted’s eye, watching him smile a little extra wide at her as he chats with Leslie and she loses her grip on that control.

She plants her palms on the desk behind her, thanking her height for the ease of simply sliding her hips back to seat herself on it. It’d be enough, she’s sure, but she can’t help herself, crossing her left leg over her right, turning slightly to join Roy and Keeley’s conversation.

She gives it just another minute before she looks back at him. His hand covers his mouth, elbow propped on the arm of the chair but she can easily see where his pink cheeks are rounding behind his fingers. She wants to laugh but doesn’t want to pull anyone's attention. She watches his eyes flicker to where her skirt is just barely riding up her thigh, before he looks up at her, playfully rolling his eyes back into his head as he closes them.

She has to bite her lips to keep her smile under control, shaking her head. He looks at her again, eyes twinkling.

“Oi,” Keeley says, coming to stand next to her. Their bubble pops and Rebecca looks around, realizing everyone is gone but Keeley, Roy and Beard. “Are you two really over here flirting right now?”

“What?” Rebecca starts, “Of course not.” Christ, they are, aren’t they? She barely recognizes it – she’s never had this much fun flirting in her life.

“Right,” Roy interrupts, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “the gaffer’s just always that shade of red.”

Ted chuckles behind his hand, “I’m gon’ plead the fifth on this one.”

“Too bad we’re in another country,” Beard quips behind her, prompting her to chuckle as she slides off the desk, Ted tracking the movement intently.

Rebecca raises an eyebrow when he meets her eye again. His blush reasserts itself as he shakes his head.

“Oh my God,” Keeley says perfectly in sync with Roy’s, “For fuck’s sake,” and Rebecca remembers, once again, that they’re all still there. 

“Right,” she says, feeling her own blush rise in her cheeks.

Ted, as he is wont to do, saves her, standing from his chair, his grin lingering on his face. “Seems like a good time to make a great escape, whatcha think, boss?”

Keeley hums suggestively but Rebecca barely hears over the rushing in her ears as Ted slides a hand onto her waist, gently guiding her to the side so he can slide his chair under the desk. Even as she moves it stays in place, tightening slightly as he bends down to grab his backpack from the floor. He raises an eyebrow at her as he straightens up, waiting patiently for her response.

She’s grateful when Keeley interrupts, “Oh no, her and I will be getting drinks this evening. Lots of them I imagine.”

She shoots Keeley a look. Ted’s arm falls away from her as he says, “Alright, then. Have fun ladies.”

“C’mon, babe, we have much to discuss.”

Rebecca lets her tug her from the room, hearing Ted mutter to the boys, “What are the odds my ears are gonna be burnin’ tonight?”

Keeley looks at her and they both can't help but laugh at Roy’s “You’re fucked, mate.”

Despite being the funnest part of putting on a gala, picking a dress is, unfortunately, the least important, so it always seems to fall to the bottom of her list, leaving it to the days just before.

This year she thinks about it even less than previous years. It hardly matters what she wears, she feels secure in knowing it won’t impact how anyone in her life feels about her. Finally.

So when Keeley pops in the morning of, asking what she’s wearing, Rebecca is forced to admit she doesn’t know yet.

Keeley bounces just a little bit, “You know what that means, yeah? Fashion show!” She gestures to the rack of dresses. Rebecca makes a face like she’s going to protest, knowing she’s absolutely going to give in. She’s got everything else sorted and that really is her last task for the day.

Keeley’s face goes stern, “You’re going to put on no less than three of these dresses if I have to put them on you myself.” She breaks and lifts her eyebrows at Rebecca suggestively.

Rebecca laughs, “Alright, let’s do it.”

Keeley squeals, and moves to sit on the sofa, but stops herself, “Wait! We need Ted!”

That pulls Rebecca up short, “Ted? Why do we need Ted?”

“Because I’m trying to escalate this flirting thing as much as I can so you can get laid in this decade, babe.”

That surprises a laugh out of her. Their impromptu Friday excursion hadn’t seen them completely hammered, just buzzed enough for Rebecca to tell Keeley about everything. She’d laughed hysterically at Rebecca recounting how she’d been teasing him. When she told her about their conversation at the Green, Keeley’s mouth had dropped open before she’d squealed, “Fuck, I love this for you.”

“We’re just…taking our time,” she defends them, “Enjoying this stage.”

“There’s taking your time and then there’s torture. For you guys and for me having to watch all this UST.”

Rebecca rolls her eyes fondly as Keeley disappears down the stairs, reappearing minutes later with Ted in tow.

“I hear there’s a fashion emergency,” he says, smiling at Rebecca.

“Were you doing anything important?” she asks, returning his smile from where she’s leaning against the front of her desk.

“More important than this? No way, José.” Keeley pulls him to sit on the sofa.

She gives him a suspicious look, but he just raises his eyebrows innocently.

Keeley rolls her eyes, “He was downstairs talking suits with the boys.”

“Fashion emergency?” she asks, grinning when he laughs.

“You know it.” Keeley looks between the two of them like she wants to lock them in a closet together, so Rebecca moves to the rack.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Keeley says, “I love looking at you.”

Rebecca tosses an incredulous look over her shoulder, sees Ted nodding emphatically and just shakes her head. She grabs the shortest dress on the rack, one that isn’t even a contender this year and turns, holding it up next to her. She raises her eyebrows at him, imbuing the motion with a threat.

She watches Ted’s eyes widen as he clutches his chest over his heart, “Have a little mercy, boss.”

Keeley laughs as Rebecca hums, turning to throw it back on the rack with a smile. She grabs her top three and takes them into the adjoining bathroom with her.

Of course it's fun, she knew it would be with her own personal hype squad in Keeley and Ted. She ends up trying on more dresses that she anticipated, saving for last the one she’d already had her heart half set on. She comes out, smoothing the dress over the tops of her thighs.

“Holy shit, babe,” Keeley says.

“Yeah, I’ll second that,” Ted says, eyes scanning her head to toe.

It’s sleeveless, black velvet falling all the way to the floor, the neckline coming all the way up into a slight collar that wraps around the base of her neck. The thing that seems to be pulling Ted’s attention, and her personal favorite part, is the high slit that comes to just above her mid-thigh.

“Fuck. You look like a sexy Bond villain,” Keeley says, practically bouncing in her seat, “Oh, you gotta wear this one.” She pauses, “Wait, how do you feel in it?”

Rebecca smiles, takes a second to think about it. “Powerful,” she says. “Like a sexy Bond villain.”

Keeley grins at her, “Alright, then.”

“Oh, wait! The back,” she says, spinning to show them the back, cut low, the entire area of her back covered with a gorgeous black lace.

Keeley practically screams, “Oh my God, if we were even close to the same height I’d be killing you for this fucking dress.”

Rebecca laughs, looking over her shoulder. Ted’s expression gives her pause, smiling wide, that same adoring look in his eye. She feels something flutter in her chest at the sight.

She moves to head back into the bathroom to change when he calls to her. “Rebecca.”

She turns, raising an eyebrow.

“You are stunnin’,” he says, his accent thicker than normal.

She smiles and feels the telltale heat of a blush in her cheeks.

“Thank you, Ted,” she says as she closes the door behind her.

If she takes a second against the door to silently scream a little bit, well, that’s nobody’s business but hers.

She's finishing off her second gin and tonic when Ted drags her away from the bar.

"Now, don't take offense to this, boss, but you strike me as just ritzy enough to have had formal ballroom dancing training at some point in your life," he drawls in her ear.

Rebecca blushes as he guides her towards the dance floor at the front of the room. Last she'd seen him he was stretched up at the side of the stage speaking with the maestro, so she has an inkling where this is going.

"No?" Ted prompts, hand on her waist as they break out on the dancefloor, where a few of the guests and a couple players had their dates already across from them.

She rolls her eyes, "Yes, fine, I do but it's been years–"

She stops as the music starts up, watching Ted situate himself in front of her with a cheeky grin, taking her hand up in actually very good form. Her eyebrows shoot up and then they're floating across the floor and she can't keep the look of amazement from her face.

She watches him watching her, an expectant look on his face. "Oh, there has to be a story here and if I know you, you're just dying to tell it," she says, smile breaking across her face, feet moving easily through the steps of the dance.

Ted matches her smile easily, chuckling a little at her knowing him so well, "Alright, picture little 9, maybe 10 year old Theodore Lasso–"

"Wait," she tilts her head as if trying to imagine it. "Did little Theodore Lasso have a mustache?"

"He did not," he says gravely.

"'Fraid I can't do that then." He laughs and she smiles wide amidst the thrill of victory.

"Either way," he continues, "Somewhere 'round that age I became just enthralled with Gene Kelly. Watched all of his musicals and just thought he was the bee's knees, ya know? You can't watch him tap dance on roller skates and not be amazed. So I begged my mama to let me learn how to dance like him. And you know what she said?"

She quirks an eyebrow at him as they turn, "Yes?"

"She said no, that I wouldn't ever have any use for that." He chuckles again, "She's a practical woman, my mother. So I said, 'Alright, what kind of dancing can I learn?' and she put me in ballroom lessons. Told me it might save my bacon one day and I gotta say, she was right. This," he gestures between them with a tilt of his head, down towards their feet, moving perfectly in sync, "has come in handy many a time."

She imagines a tiny version of him in his first dance lessons, fumbling but eager to learn, and can't keep her laugh inside. He grins and tugs her a little closer at the sound. She almost regrets not going with a backless dress, the tease of his hand through the thin lace at her back threatening to overwhelm her.

"Haven't had any experiences that would've been easier if I'd known how to tap dance. Might've made some of 'em a little more fun, though," he shrugs.

She shakes her head at him, "Wonders never cease with you, Lasso."

The music crescendos as he smiles at her and it breaks the single minded focus she has on her partner. When she looks around, she sees the rest of the dancers have all either given up or deferred the floor to her and Ted, forming a wide circle, all eyes watching them sweep across the space. "Ted," she breathes, prompting him to look around as well.

"Well, how 'bout that," he says quietly as he looks around, then smiles at her with tenderness and more than a little mischief, "Let's give 'em a show, huh?"

Before she can respond, he lifts their joined hands and guides her into a spin with the hand on her waist, turning her under their arms and pulling her right back into form, perfectly in step. She can't help but laugh, purely from the joy of it just rushing through her veins. She hears his answering laugh, as he does it again, and again, twirling her around the dancefloor, her smile bright and shameless.

She hears the music pick up into its final notes as Ted grasps her firmly at the waist and tosses her a wink, just before dipping her expertly as the music stops. For a torturously long moment she can't hear, or see, or feel anything that isn't him; his breathing, his dark eyes locked on hers, his hand clutching her waist, the other clasped in her own hand.

The moment finally breaks as the crowd around them erupts into applause and they're both grinning as he pulls her to standing again. She can hear the distinct whoop of footballers as she brings her hands to her face, blushing at the attention now that she doesn't have the distraction of Ted.

But he steals her focus once again, one hand stretched out to her, the other bent behind his back in a comically formal stance, a goofy half-grin on his face. She takes his hand with a laugh and he dips into a bow. She sinks into a curtsey, then pulls him in by his hand and wraps her arms around his neck.

"That was," she mutters into his ear. "God, that was just so fun," she giggles as she pulls away.

"It was, wasn't it? We should do that more often." He takes her hand, pulling her into the crowd as the music starts up again. She watches him catch the eye of the conductor and put a hand to his heart, mouthing a thank you. She pretends she doesn't see when the maestro winks back.

Eventually, they land back at their table, having been passed around from person to person wanting to compliment them – Keeley especially wanting to shriek at how fucking sexy that was.

Finally seated, Ted turns to her to say something when he's cut off by a voice behind them, someone she'd completely forgotten was even in attendance this evening, actually invited this time in a show of good faith. "That was quite the intimate little display."

The flash and burn of simple annoyance at the interruption, at the threat to her brilliant mood, is enough to fuel her next words. "Oh, piss off, Rupert." And then the surprise in his eyes fuels the rest. "I'm sorry you don't know what it's like to simply have fun with people you care about, but it's not even remotely my problem anymore. Nor is it yours that I should actually enjoy myself in public. So as I said," she waves him away, turning back to the table, "Just piss off."

She meets the eyes of Roy and Beard across the table, both of them giving her a supportive nod. She can hear the tension, probably anger and a bit of humiliation in Rupert's voice as he tries again. "Well, Ted, good luck with–”

Ted doesn't even let him finish, and Rebecca turns her head to watch him out of the corner of her eye. "Now, I know you really wanna try and get one little dig in but I'm just gonna go ahead and let you know ahead of time: no one here gives a shit what you think. So let's just skip it tonight, hmm?"

Ted gives him the fakest smile she's ever seen on his face and watches Rupert storm off, not taking his eyes off him until he's faded into the crowd. When he turns back to her, there's something building in her chest, something like elation, and freedom, and love.

He watches her for a moment, searching her, she knows, for any hint of distress, before opening his mouth to speak. She's the one that stops him this time, grabbing his hand and yanking them from their seats, across the room and out the side door into the night air.

She drops his hand at the door but continues a few steps along the street and, God, she wants to just scream to the high heavens, wants to laugh, wants to dance again, with Ted, always with Ted, and she can't even remember the last time she wanted to emote this much.

Her head falls back as a laugh erupts from her, and okay, yes, that'll do.

When she turns around to face Ted again, he looks bemused, a little confused but, as always, just happy to see her happy.

She just shakes her head, smiling wide, hands on her cheeks, "It's true what you said." Her voice is a little shaky but for once she simply doesn't care. She goes to him, putting her hands on either side of his face, "I finally really truly do not give a shit what that man thinks." She laughs as she pulls him into a hug, the rush of acknowledging it out loud surging through her.

His arms come around her middle as he whispers a soft, "I'm glad," in her ear.

She pulls back, the rush in her easing into something far more delicate. Her hands move back to his face, more tenderly this time, "You did this. You healed me."

He frowns a little and shakes his head, "No, darlin', you did that all yourself."

She nods, conceding that point because it's true, but..."You gave me reason to," she whispers. He softens completely at that, eyes fond, loving, as he takes her in.

She watches as her hands sink down his cheeks, thumbs moving to smooth along his bottom lip. The moment shifts, her eyes flicking up to his – noting how they've darkened and shifted to watch her own lips. "Can I," she asks, voice hushed, "can I finally–"

She doesn't get to finish, her lips suddenly occupied as he presses forward, her hands sliding easily back into his hair as his lips move over hers and, oh, it feels so right. He kisses her like he's been waiting his whole life to do it, and she responds in kind, savoring him slowly, then intensifying, pushing in to taste as much of him as she can.

One of his hands comes up from her waist to cup the back of her head, and two seconds later she knows why, feeling brick catching the lace against her shoulder blades, his hand cradling her updo and cushioning her collison. He pulls away from her mouth, the tickle of his mustache trailing over her jaw and down her neck as she gasps.

"You want this?" he asks, breath hot against her skin. "You want me? This ain't just adrenaline, or–"

"No," she says with conviction. Her hands tighten in his hair as his leg comes to rest between hers, not pushing, just there. "I want this, I want you."

"Thank God," he groans. His lips press at her pulsepoint as he bends his knees. Before she can wonder what he's doing, she feels his warm fingers sliding into the slit of her dress, finding the back of her knee. "Been wantin' to do this for ages," he says as he straightens up, meeting her eyes as he hitches her leg on his hip.

She chuckles, low and sexy, at the delight in his eyes. It morphs into a groan as his hand smooths up her thigh, exploring the long-adored skin. His lips press to hers again, stealing the sounds from her mouth. His hand stops once he hits the dress, bunched at her hip and he hesitates only a moment before sliding it to the underside of her leg, his fingertips ghosting along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

She gasps into his mouth at the sensation and he grunts in reply, nipping at her lip. His hand moves back to the outside, squeezing the flesh of her thigh, almost her hip, just enough to pull a whimper from her before he slides it back towards much safer territory near her knee. He gentles their kiss, pulling away just to come back and drop soft little kisses first to her top, then bottom lip.

She's grateful for his control because she is, quite frankly, ready to fuck him against the side of this building, which is an undeniably terrible idea. This was lewd enough, she imagines – and then really imagines, pictures them against the wall, her black dress flush against his dark suit, her leg exposed, bent on his hip, his hand high under her thigh, lips to her neck and, yeah, that image is getting put to good use later.

He pulls away, looking thoroughly wrecked, as he lets her leg sink back to the ground, his fingertips lingering as long as they can at her thigh before the dress falls between their skin. "We, uh, we oughta head back in, yeah?"

The fact that he forms it like a question has her breathing out a laugh. Her hands move to smooth his hair back into place, "Yes." The auction hadn’t even started yet, they still had a lot of the evening to get through.

He nods and takes a step back from her, but she follows closely, stealing one more soft kiss from his lips. "You go on ahead. I think I'm gonna need a moment with this cool night air."

She smirks at him, very pointedly not looking down. She nods and moves to the door, then stops with her hand on the handle. "Ted," she calls back to him.

"Yes?"

She smiles, a little bashful outside the heat of the moment, "Thank you for the dance."

He smiles, eyes soft, and tilts his head. "Anytime, darlin'."

They spend the rest of the evening catching each other's eyes across the room, trading winks and blushes.

Before long she's in front of the venue thanking the last of the guests and stretching her jaw, sore from smiling. Knowing it comes from genuine smiles rather than false ones feels absolutely lovely.

"Excellent work as always, boss," Ted appears at her side, dropping a kiss on her cheek. His hand comes to rest on her waist. "Can I see you home?"

The ache in her jaw becomes irrelevant as she smiles at him, the twinkle in his eye and the crook to his grin telling her exactly what he's offering. It sends a delicious thrill through her.

"As lovely as that sounds, I have a long standing tradition with our Miss Jones." She turns enough to face him fully, extending her arms over his shoulders as his hand comes to join the other on her waist, both of them wholly unconcerned with being seen by any party stragglers.

"Alright," he murmurs, his eyes taking in her face before he leans in, pressing a kiss to her other cheek.

"She's going to be ecstatic," she says, shivering as he traces a line along her jaw. "She's been very eagerly awaiting this moment."

"No more than either of us, I'd bet," he straightens up, looking at her with such affection, her heart feels like it's about to fly out of her chest.

"I told her we were taking our time. Enjoying this stage."

"Sounds 'bout right," he says, eyes flicking between hers with just enough hesitance to get her curious. "No use rushin' it. 'Specially when I'm pretty sure this is gonna be the last time either of us go through all these early stages, if you know what I'm sayin'."

It takes a second for it to register, distracted by the nervous thickness of his accent, and when it does it comes with a stutter in her heart and a flood of happiness, relief and love.

"Yes, I rather think it will be," she whispers, watching his eyes gleam with a mirror of her own reaction. The smile that comes to his face is a soft little thing that she wants to see everyday, for the rest of her life.

"Alright then," he murmurs, "I'm from the Midwest, y'know, so I always prefer the scenic route anyways."

She laughs, cupping the back of his head as she brings her forehead to rest against his. She feels him take a deep breath, both of them reveling in this new closeness, the comforting surety of their place in each other's lives.

"Thank you for an absolutely incredible evenin'," he breathes.

"Good party?"

"Going down in the books as the best one I've ever been to." He pulls away with a smile. "See you Monday?"

She shakes her head, smoothing his lapels with her palms. "Come for brunch tomorrow? I'm almost certainly going to be hungover as fuck. I'll spend the day in my sleep shorts just for you." She bounces her eyebrows suggestively, surprising a laugh out of him as his cheeks pink.

"You're gon' kill me, Welton," he shakes his head.

She giggles, cupping his face, "Sorry, darling. Making you blush is one of the great joys of my life at the moment." Her thumb swipes at the color on his cheeks before dropping a sweet little kiss against it.

They startle at Keeley's "Oi! I saw that!" as she appears at the top of the steps, "You two gonna shag tonight, or are we still on?" She shakes the champagne in her hands at Rebecca.

"Course we're still on," Rebecca says, letting her hand fall away from Ted's face as Keeley joins them. She glances between them suspiciously.

"This is the only instance where I would fully support you ditching me for a man," she says, "so if you two are finally gonna–"

"No," Rebecca interrupts, "I wouldn't trade our Rowdy Rickshaw for anything." She sees Ted practically light up at the alliterative name. "Besides, I think Ted and I will see how long we can drag this out," she tosses him a wink as Keeley rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Christ, it'll be next year's gala and we'll be having this same fucking conversation."

Ted chuckles, eyes sparkling, "What a year it would be though, huh?"

She groans and starts down the street away from them, turning back to blow Ted a kiss.

Rebecca smiles at him, gathering her skirt so she can walk backwards alongside Keeley and confirm, "Tomorrow? Brunch?"

He takes in the length of her, head to toe, before he quirks an appreciative eyebrow at her, "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

She can't help the wide smile that blooms on her face.

Yes.

Ted likes her legs.

Ted, it turns out, likes a whole lot more than just her legs.

Chapter Text

Ted, apparently, is far less careful than he’d imagined.

This knowledge comes with a price of complete and utter mortification. As a man who takes great care to make the people around him feel comfortable, and who has never for a moment bought into the idea that a man can’t or shouldn’t be responsible for his own actions and reactions because there’s a woman simply existing near him, well, the thought of Rebecca Welton, a woman he admires, and respects, and yes, loves, noticing him noticing her…

Mortifying.

It’s a testament to her communication skills that she’s able to not just quickly, but instantly dispel that mortification and leave him floored instead. Just absolutely dumbstruck. The double-whammy of being granted the privilege to admire her followed by the reveal that she actually wants him to just about lays him out flat. It steals the words from his mouth and he can’t do anything but grin, bashful at the thought of her knowing how gorgeous he finds her. 

He finds his footing eventually though, managing a level of flirting he really truly didn’t know he was capable of. It sets a smile spreading and his cheeks burning just to think of it, that conversation on the Green, with her entire form painted golden with a rare London sun and her green eyes glittering with amusement, widening with surprise, darkening with arousal.

She knows he likes her legs, but he doesn’t think she has any idea how completely captivating her eyes are to him. 

It sets into motion a whole game of cat and mouse, but this was no Tom and Jerry.

Yeah, he’d say it’s probably closer to something like lion and mouse.

He’s wholly unprepared.

He likes to think of himself as a pretty eloquent guy, but the first time he steps into her office to find her leaning back against her desk, long legs crossed in front of her, he doesn’t get a single word out without tripping over it first. 

The second time it happens he sees the gleam of challenge in her eye and knows instantly that it’s intentional. She’s teasing him and encouraging him at the same time and he can’t help but be amused at her antics, even as they set his heart beating fast. 

If she wants him to look, to want her, well, hopefully it’s not too far of a stretch to think that she wants him too.

Her sliding onto his desk, crossing her legs directly at his eyeline opens up a whole new level of ideas in his mind, ones they definitely aren’t ready for, not just yet.

He rolls his eyes back into his head playfully but means every second of it.

Her own amusement as she watches him react is half the fun; that little thrill he watches move through her, the twinkle of confidence in her eyes that he encourages at every chance because it has every right to be there. 

Her absolutely radiant smile. 

She throws it his way so easily and he feels that telltale heat in his cheeks, giving him away at every turn.

When the gala rolls around, though, he finds his own way to whisk her off her feet.

Never in his life – not even at his own wedding, though he’s a little ashamed to admit it – has he been more grateful for knowing how to dance. 

He’ll be ordering his mama a bouquet of flowers as soon as he gets home tonight.

The conductor, too, maybe, bless his heart.

There’s a rush as they dance, his blood just singing through his veins as she clutches his hand, laughs at his story; her smiles, her joy so bright and shameless. He loves her in that moment so much he doesn’t know how it all fits inside him. 

There’s a rush again as she expertly handles her ex-husband and again when he witnesses her moment of pure elation, of absolution.

Then it’s less a rush and more a flood, a tsunami, when her eyes meet his, pure emerald and shining with love. Again when he feels her thumbs smooth along his lips. 

Again when he kisses her, finally, and when her hands slide into his hair, and when she gasps into his mouth – each one another wave crashing into him, pure emotion like he hasn’t ever felt before.

He can’t help asking, clarifying, in that moment that it really is him she wants, unable to believe this gorgeous, hilarious, kind-hearted, incredible woman would want him of all people.

She grips his hair as he kisses her neck, breathing “I want this, I want you,” into his ear and he feels like there isn’t a damn thing on this earth he couldn’t do.

She just chuckles at him when he slips his hand into her skirt, hitching her knee onto his hip, and it feels just as exquisite as he’d imagined. But then it's a gasp instead coming from her lips as he teases the inside of her thigh. The only thought in his head as his fingertips glide along is how badly he wants his mouth there, that soft tender skin under his lips.

Not just yet.

He gentles their kiss, his brain fighting to keep aware that they’re pressed very publicly against the side of a building. She’s practically incandescent when he releases her lips, flushed with arousal and eyes glowing with satisfaction.

The image stays with him the rest of the evening, reappearing every time she catches his eye across the ballroom and blushes exquisitely when he winks. 

He gives her an extra little piece of himself before they part for the evening, a measure of himself and his feelings for her, so she knows just how in this he is. She meets that step forward with the same ease and bravery she does everything and he can't believe he's so lucky.

He hasn't stopped smiling the whole way back from the gala.

Beard, very graciously he thinks, hasn't mentioned it.

"Coach," Beard pulls him from his thoughts as they slow, coming up in front of Ted's flat. He looks up at him as they come to a stop and Beard’s giving him a rare kind of smile that makes Ted’s own expand slightly. 

“Coach?”

Beard gives him a long look. “Good night?”

Ted’s smile grows impossibly wide. “Very good night.”

Beard nods, a twinkle in his eye. “Good. ‘Bout time.”

Ted nods back, pulling a hand from his pocket to squeeze Beard’s shoulder gratefully. 

“Have a good weekend, Ted,” he leaves him with a bounce of his eyebrows that speaks volumes.

He's not nervous, not exactly. There's a little fizzing sensation in his gut that's more excitement than anxiety, and it dissolves as soon as she answers the door, smiling wide at him and not looking even remotely worse for wear despite her prediction of being hungover.

"Mornin'," he says, as she waves him in, eyeing the bags in his hands.

"Good morning, Ted," he hears as she follows him into her kitchen, heaving the totes up onto the island. He spins around to get a good look at her but she's right behind him, hands already halfway to his face to pull him in for a kiss.

He smiles against her lips, and, boy, if he thought it was gonna be any less earth-shaking the second time he was dead wrong. His hands land on her waist as she just barely lets her body rest against his, one of her own hands sliding back into his hair, the other slipping down onto his chest as she pushes into his mouth. He returns the favor, tasting her, his hands tightening on her hips.

She hums contentedly as she pulls away from him and it's a sound he likes very, very much.

"Good mornin'," he mutters, a little stupidly he'll admit, eyes still shut.

Her hand smooths his chest as she chuckles, "You said that already."

"Right," he says, opening his eyes to soft jade. "Well, a morning this good deserves it twice."

She chuckles again, moving around him to peek into the totes he'd brought. "What's all this?"

"Brunch," he says, turning around to start unpacking them, "Now I wasn't sure if you're a big sugary breakfast hangover type person or a black coffee and plain toast hangover type person so I've got options." 

"I'm usually a skip breakfast and eat the greasiest lunch I can find hangover type person so I'm in your hands."

"Mmm," he hums as he lifts a bag of sugar from a tote, "Interesting choice of words." She shoots him a smirk as he continues, "Gotta say though, you don't look even remotely hungover to me."

"I've been up for a while. Already shook off the worst of it," she says, "You've missed sleep short hours, unfortunately." 

He chuckles, taking in her joggers and v-neck combo, both incredibly soft, he already knows, and probably costing more than his entire wardrobe. "Darlin', you could've told me you'd be wearing a hazmat suit and I'd still be here. Probably with a few questions, but here nonetheless."

She snorts, taking in the pile of ingredients on her counter. "You know when I invited you over for brunch it wasn't a demand that you come cook for me."

"Who said anything about cookin' for you?" he asks, tossing the empty totes onto a stool, "No, boss, you will very much be giving me a hand this mornin'."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Interesting choice of words," she repeats his words back to him, and yep, there's a little heat in his cheeks at that.

He puts a hand on his hip, the other propping him up against the counter and gives her a faux stern look, "Now how's this gonna work if you go stealing my lines?"

She turns to him, sliding her arms around his waist as she grins, "Sharing is caring, Ted."

"Oh, come on now," he pouts, "You know I'm a sucker for a good adage."

"Why do you think I said it?" she murmurs, leaning in close and pressing a sweet little kiss to his lips that has his heart flipping in his chest.

She retreats and he returns the favor, closing his lips over her for just a moment before asking, "How 'bout some pancakes?"

"Ooh, sounds good to me," she squeezes his middle once before releasing him. 

He puts her to work, measuring out dry ingredients, then slicing strawberries as he pours and flips and cooks at the stove. He makes coffee, but she insists on preparing it once it’s brewed, making sure she knows how he likes it, the same way he knows how she likes her tea. It warms his heart a little, that she's so adamant about knowing how to do that small thing for him.

He asks about her evening with Keeley and she regales him with their night, making him snort out a laugh on more than one occasion. They just chat their way through brunch and clean-up, and he marvels at how comfortable it is.

"Thank you, Ted," she says, leaning against the island as he folds a hand towel on the countertop, "That was delicious."

"Anytime, darlin'," he says.

Something shifts in her face, something he can't quite read paired with a little amusement and fondness. She smiles lightly as she shakes her head. 

“What?” he asks.

She hesitates for a moment. “I really didn’t think I’d ever let a man call me that again.” He thinks over what he said and his stomach sinks a little bit. She continues, tilting her head thoughtfully, “But it’s not even remotely the same word when you say it – the sound, the meaning, the…the feeling behind it, it's all completely different.”

“You know I won’t use it if you ask me not to,” he offers. It’s not reasonable, he knows it can happen, evidenced by the fact that it did just happen, but he really doesn’t ever want to do anything that brings Rupert into her mind. He'll stand it though, if it’s something that helps that wound heal over even just a tiny bit more. 

She steps up to him and snakes her arms over his shoulders. “I know that,” she says. “I like it when you say it.”

“You ever change your mind, just know, I got a whole backlog of pet names in here, honey,” he says, letting his arms slide around her waist.

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

“I’ll toss it in the rotation then, snookums.” 

She glares at him, “No.”

“Pumpkin? Sweet pea? Sunshine? Buttercup?” He chuckles as she just raises an eyebrow at him, “Sugar?” 

She rolls her eyes, but grins at the last, “God, only you could actually pull that one off.” 

“Gotta love a southern accent, baby.” He watches her eyes darken at that one, and the look she gives him makes his heart bounce around somewhere near his stomach, “Hmm, okay. Making note of that.”

She leans into him, pressing a short but sensual kiss to his lips. “Is that all?”

“Oh, not even close. Gotta leave you some surprises, sweetheart.” Her eyes soften at that one, and he makes note of that too. 

“I’m afraid my list isn’t nearly as exhaustive, love,” she breathes against his mouth, watching him carefully, and that, well, that gets his heart pounding a mile a minute. He closes his lips over hers, deepening the kiss almost immediately to convey that he really, really likes hearing that particular pet name in her lovely lilting accent.

She responds with vigor of her own, tilting her head and stroking into his mouth. He tugs her closer but it’s not enough, and before he knows it she’s between him and the island, planting her palms and lifting up.

He doesn’t know how slow they’re going, if she meant what she’d said last night about dragging it out, but he goes with the flow. Because the flow puts him standing between those legs as she locks her ankles at his lower back and then his thought processes end there.

His lips crash back onto hers as he gets his hands on her ass and tugs her tight against him, gasping when the heat of her makes contact with his groin. She lets out a high moan, fingers tangling in his hair. His hands move behind him to slip under her pant legs as he thanks God that they’re loose enough, the knit stretchy enough to gather at his wrist as he slides his hands all the way up to her past her knees.

“That’s where the shorts would've come in handy,” she says against his lips. 

All he can do is grunt in reply.

She chuckles at his inability to speak. “You alright?” she asks, kissing her way down his neck.

His hands tighten, squeezing the flesh of her thigh, hips pressing into hers, “Not sure you understand that you are literally the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Touching you like this might strike me a little dumb.”

“Jesus, Ted,” her lips come back to his as he pulls his hands from her thighs, moving them around to slip under the back of her shirt. Her hips are moving against his, one of his hands assisting the movement on her back. Just as the other starts to slip around the front of her chest both of them startle, jumping at the shrill ring of her phone at the other end of the island. 

They both stop, catching their breath as they lean against each other. “Keeley most likely,” Rebecca mutters as the phone continues to ring.

“Probably a good thing,” he says, stepping back so she can hop down. “Didn’t really think we’d end up having sex for the first time on your kitchen counter.”

“Oh, really?” she asks, moving to her phone just as it stops ringing. “Where exactly did you imagine it?”

“Oh, I imagined it just about everywhere,” her head comes up at that, mouth smiling but hanging open just a bit, “but realistically, I thought we’d be in a bed somewhere, at least.”

“Ted Lasso.” She shakes her head, “One of these days I’ll get used to you surprising me.”

He blushes a little at that, reaching up to try and smooth his mussed hair. He hopes she’s wrong in this instance, that he doesn't ever stop surprising her – he doesn’t imagine she’ll ever stop surprising him. She watches him a moment longer, eyes twinkling before she unlocks her phone. 

“It was Keeley,” she stretches a hand toward him, wiggling her fingers for him to take it, and he feels an odd, backwards sort of nostalgia at the motion; like it's a sight he’ll grow so used to that one day he won’t even think before moving in response. He takes her hand, seeing her 10 years from now doing the exact same motion at him. The thought brings a smile to his face as she pulls him to the sofa.

"You gonna call her back?" he asks as he drops down next to her. "If I'm overstaying my welcome, you go ahead and tell me to get lost."

She gives him a look, stretching over him to reach her glasses on the end table. "I'm just going to text her. And if, if, you ever manage to overstay your welcome, I'll let you know. Probably with something more delicate than 'get lost'." 

"Well, that's sweet of you," he murmurs, watching her slide the glasses on her face and text Keeley. It stirs something in him to see her green eyes framed in black, like little works of art.

She looks up at him over the tops of her glasses, and he must have some kind of look because she quirks an eyebrow. "What?"

A fond little grin comes to his face, "Not sure I've ever seen you in glasses. You just keep bringing all kinds of new little thrills to my life, don't you?" 

She laughs, as she tosses her phone and glasses together onto the coffee table, "My deteriorating eyesight is thrilling to you?"

His brow furrows, "Well, when you put it like that–"

She cuts him off, sliding an arm over his shoulders, tugging him down with her as she lays on the couch. He goes willingly, very willingly, arms around her waist, resting his head on her chest.

“Mmm,” he hums, wiggling a little, getting comfortable between her and the cushions. 

“Lose the shoes,” she mumbles into his hairline.

“Yes, ma’am,” he toes off his sneakers, letting them drop to the floor as her legs tangle with his. 

Her fingers stroke through his hair and the sensation is so comforting, so soothing he imagines he could fall right asleep here.

"Your hair is soft," comes from somewhere above him.

"Thank you," he mutters, "I use a 3-in-1 that would probably make your toes curl."

His head rises with her chest as she laughs. "In that case, the less I know the better."

He clicks his tongue, sighing, "Guess you better steer clear of my shower then."

She laughs again, "Mentally striking that one off the list, hmm?"

He grins, glad of their positioning because there's no way he isn't blushing again. He turns his head, dropping a brief kiss to her sternum. 

"Just out of curiosity, does my sofa factor into any of these imaginings of yours?"

"Well, if it didn't before it does now," he teases.

She chuckles as he pulls himself up, leaning on his elbow. Her hand leaves his hair, coming around to his face to trace her fingertips over his features. He watches her, her eyes following the same paths as her fingers, the fondness in them spreading warmth all through him. They pass over his lips and he purses them against her, widening her smile. 

"You got anywhere you need to be today?" he asks quietly.

She shakes her head.

"So, there won't be a problem if I just lay here in your arms all day?"

"Not at all."

“Excellent,” he murmurs, sinking down to press a kiss to her collarbone, before resting his head back against her. He lets his thoughts drift as her hand finds his hair again, and they're quiet for a long while, relaxed, comfortable and full of pancakes. 

His thoughts circle round to her words last night and he wonders aloud, "How slow you wanna go, honey?" As much as he enjoys the unspoken thing they have going on, they're getting into territory where he's a little less comfortable just making assumptions.

"Mm, as slow as you want," she murmurs and he almost laughs a little bit at not needing to explain what he meant, despite voicing a random and slightly vague thought. "If you put the moves on me right here on this couch, I'd have no complaints."

And, well, if that doesn't get ideas flowing...

"But," she continues, "I don't mind going slow, either."

He rolls his head so his chin rests on her sternum, bringing an elbow under him to take some of his weight. "You have a preference?"

Her eyes dance over his face for a moment before she answers, "I could stand to draw it out a little. I'm rather a fan of the foreplay heavy petting stages, but I think Keeley's right, I don't think we need to still be there this time next year. You?"

He gives her a crooked smile, "I am right there with you."

She smiles brightly and he eats up the sight of it. God, he doesn't think he'll ever get sick of seeing it. He settles more directly above her as her hands smooth over his shoulders, his leg coming to rest between hers. She hitches her leg against it, her foot sliding along his calf. Knowing it's not going anywhere in particular makes it all the easier to lean down and kiss her slowly, languidly as if they have all the time in the world.

So begins a new game of sorts. 

Well, not a game exactly; neither of them will be losing when the game comes to a close.

There's a line when they're at the club, of course; one he sort of has to feel around for. He's never been in a relationship with someone he worked with, let alone for.

Even though something in him protests it, he doesn't greet her with a kiss when he goes to her office Monday morning to deliver her biscuits, but she presses one to his cheek before he goes. She's more at ease being affectionate when they're alone at the club, preferring to maintain their still friendly but much more professional relationship when their coworkers are around. He doesn't mind one bit, content to follow her lead there.

Outside of work, however, they don't hold anything back. 

They go on dates, share meals, watch movies, walk around the Green, but all the while, more than anything they just learn each other.

He learns she loves his hands, takes them frequently but rarely just to hold – she prefers to run her fingers along his or trace the lines on his palms with a fingertip. She does it almost mindlessly and he'd say it's the most unexpected thing he learns about her.

She learns if she kisses him with a little extra tenderness, he'll keep his eyes shut for a moment when she pulls away, like he needs the additional seconds to savor it, or commit it to memory. It's adorably sweet and one of her favorite things she learns.

He learns that she's not even remotely ticklish and she learns that he absolutely is.

She learns that if she scratches her nails against his scalp, he'll probably groan. He learns that if he tightens his hand in her hair just a tiny bit, she'll most likely breathe out an expletive. 

He forgets a razor when they go overnight for an away game, doesn't bother with borrowing or buying one, and he learns that his stubble against her neck or her collarbone will elicit a gasp. It also must create some kind of magnetic field between his face and her hands because she can't seem to stop brushing her fingertips over his jaw the entire trip. 

She learns that the quickest way to help soothe him, whether he's coming down from one of their heated interludes or trying to staunch the tumble of anxiety in his gut, is to lay her hand against the back of his neck and squeeze gently.

He learns that she tends to sink into her thoughts, negative ones that leave her feeling unsteady and insecure and a good way to pull her out of it is gentle touches, like a thumb on her cheek or rubbing her back until her eyes clear.

He learns that she hates oranges, but loves orange juice, will always take a second to close her eyes when the sunlight hits her face and wishes she were home more so she could get a cat. 

She learns he likes his toast extra dark, has been trying to read the same book for 2 years and takes a second every morning to send out a hope that Henry has a great day when he wakes. 

All this and more, pieces of themselves exchanging hands with every conversation, every kiss, every touch.

They don't even bother to put on a movie and pretend they'll see the end of it. It's been a long three days of only managing to see each other in passing, both of them scrambling a little with injury and minority owner related problems, respectively. It leaves both of them relieved tonight to finally have a real length of time to themselves. 

A win at home on top of that has them in particularly good spirits all through their dinner and that feeling lingers as they relocate to the couch, drinks in hand.

It takes no time at all before she's setting her wine on the coffee table and leaning in to kiss him, sliding a hand into his hair. She takes his whiskey from his hand and stretches to set it on the end table. 

"Mm, thank you," he murmurs against her mouth. His newly free hand slides over her hip, slipping under her top and setting the skin of her back on fire with his touch. "Missed you."

God, she has too, missed him like this. It's only been a few days but enough, apparently, to have her feeling deprived, needy. 

She pushes in to taste him as his hand slides down her thigh, pulling her knee to drape across his lap. She takes it a step further, using a hand on the back of the couch to pull herself to straddle him, grinning at the sound he makes and grateful she'd changed into jeans and a t-shirt when she'd come home.

His hand glides further up her back, the other clutching at her hip as she grinds down on him. His lips pull away from hers at the motion, breathing out a quiet, "Fuck," as his mouth moves down her neck. She does it again, hand gripping his hair as her hips press down and, oh Christ, she doesn't know what but something, her inseam, or his jeans, or just him, makes perfect contact with her clit and the contact zips through her like a shock.

She scoops her hips again, harder, down and forward and feels it again, strong enough to have her gasping, "Jesus."

He leans back enough to look at her, "You alright?"

"Fuck," she pants, eyes closed as she leans her forehead against his, "I think I could come like this."

"Could you, now?" he drawls, deep and low. She opens her eyes in time to see his darken, one corner of his mouth pulling up, "Do you want to?"

Fuck, the more she thinks about it the more she wants it. She presses her hips down again, but they've shifted enough that whatever she'd pressed against is out of place and she whimpers, pressing down again frantically, "Yes."

"Okay, easy, baby, hang on," Ted soothes. His hands move to grip her hips and she stills them. "Alright."

He puts a firm hand on her lower back, fingers spread wide, holding her against him. "Alright," he whispers again and presses her hips down tight against his as he lifts his own, just barely. He watches her face intently, adjusting his hips marginally before repeating the motion. He does it again and again, press and shift, press and shift, until they hit the spot and her eyes slam shut for a moment, breath hitching.

"There we go," he murmurs, his own breathing heavier now.

His hand holds her tightly in place as he starts a rhythm, lifting his hips into hers, just tiny surges of pressure, perfectly placed now. The sight of it is almost as gratifying as the sensation, his eyes heavy with arousal watching her, hips grinding in a smooth, sensual cadence. Each little thrust pushes a noise from her, her hand tightening in his hair as her pleasure starts to mount. 

She risks leaning forward, engaging her core to keep her hips in place, so she can plunge her tongue into his mouth, his low groan spurring her on even further. She breaks the kiss with a gasp but keeps her forehead against his, hips pressing harder now, faster, as he lets her take over the pace.

"C'mon, baby," he murmurs, and that pulses right to her center. His hands come to her aid again, pulling enough for a little extra pressure and two beats later, she's coming in his lap, just a tenuous little orgasm but it has her gasping, back arching as she grinds down, chasing the feeling.

She feels Ted pressing messy kisses to her neck as she comes down, muttering as he goes. It takes a second for her to make sense of his words, "Nicely done, sweetheart, that was just gorgeous."

Her body relaxes gradually and he pulls away, smiling as he drops his head against the back of the couch, his hands smoothing up and down her thighs. 

Fuck, she loves him.

She presses a kiss to his chin. "Thank you, love." Her kisses continue along his jaw to his ear where she whispers, "Tell me what I can do for you."

He chuckles, and the sound is rich and lovely in her ear, "You're spectacular, you know that?"

"Hmm," she hums noncommittally.

"You don't need to do a thing for me, sugar, that was like a birthday, Christmas, every gift giving holiday you can think of all rolled into one for me." His hands squeeze her thighs comfortingly, but she can feel how hard he is under her. 

"Are you sure?"

His hand comes up to cup her jaw, his fingertips sliding into her hair as he pulls her down and kisses her deeply. He hums as he pulls away. 

"Ain't no scoreboard, darlin'," he says quietly. "No quid pro quo." He kisses her again, softer. 

She's never been with a man that didn't want to get as good as he gave at every opportunity, so her first instinct is skepticism; sex has always been an exchange for her, a give and take. Previously the idea of just taking would make her wonder just how much she'd have to give next time.

But she feels his mustache trailing from her lips to her cheek and remembers this is Ted, who, yes, can be selfless to the point of his own detriment, but who she trusts, in this – them – more than anything else, to be honest with her. 

There are more than enough reasons why he'd want to let this just be for her but he doesn't even need one.

"Okay," she says, leaning back. She smooths her hands down his chest, feeling the heat of him through his t-shirt, then follows the same path back up. He's still grinning and the sight makes her chuckle. "What?"

He shakes his head, eyes twinkling, "You usually that sensitive? 'Cause I know for a fact we've been in this position before, but I'm not sure I could've missed that."

"No, not usually," she smiles. "Could be just about anything though – hormones, a few days missing you, perfectly aligned jeans. My body's a bloody mystery even to me sometimes." 

He hums. "Guess we'll just have to solve it together then, hmm?"

"Alright, inspector," she jokes as she leans back to grab her wine glass from the coffee table, feeling his arm come around her back to keep her from falling. She rights herself with his assistance and takes a sip. 

"Would you, if you don't mind?" he tilts his head towards his whiskey, beyond his reach on the side table. "I'm a little trapped at the moment."

"You want me off?" she asks as she stretches over for his glass. She's probably not being much help in easing his situation.

"Pretty sure we just got you off," he says, taking the glass with a cheeky grin, other hand squeezing her thigh. 

"Oh, I should've seen that one coming," she laughs, moving to drop down next to him. She relaxes back against the cushions, rolling her head to look at him.

"I hope I'm not gettin' that predictable just yet," he smiles, his honey eyes dancing over her face.

She scoffs, "Not even close."

He can’t shake the giddy happiness that follows him all through the next day. He can’t really help it. It’s not even that he’s constantly thinking about Rebecca coming apart in his lap, but it must be ever present in the back of his mind because he can’t imagine this feeling stemming from anything else.

She was magnificent. Gorgeous, just…absolutely incredible. Eventually he’s gonna run out of superlatives. 

Beard takes one look at his face in the morning and sighs. 

He meets him along with Roy and Keeley and Rebecca at the pub in the evening, ostensibly for something club-related that they all know they’ll never get to. What they do end up doing is enjoying a drink and a basket of fries.

Well, what he ends up doing is staring at Rebecca from the booth, watching her perch herself onto a barstool as she waits for her gin and tonic, legs crossed and not a single care for how the next stool – and almost the one after that – are unusable for how long they are. At least the place isn’t busy.

It’s distracting, to say the least. Not in such a way that he can’t function or can’t help himself – he can. But what on earth could be more worth looking at than God knows how many inches of toned, golden leg…well, centimeters. Whatever. She’d have to convert it for him anyway.  

She turns back to look at him, her elbow propped on the bar and a knuckle under her chin, and seems wholly unsurprised to catch him looking. She smiles and winks before she looks back toward Mae and it has him grinning and chuckling as he takes a sip of his beer.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Ted, really?”

He raises his eyebrows as he turns to Keeley across from him. Who apparently had just witnessed that exchange. “Hmm?”

“It’s been weeks since the gala, you two still haven’t finally had some kind of sex marathon?” she asks.

He looks to Beard and Roy for back-up, feeling a blush spread over his cheeks, and both of them just look at him expectantly. Shoot. He turns back to Keeley, “What makes you think we haven’t?”

She looks at him like he’s being a little bit stupid, “Because you’re still flirting with each other. Like, a lot.”

He tilts his head a little, his eyes landing on Rebecca as she takes her drink from Mae and heads back towards them, catching his eye and smiling. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s ever gonna stop, regardless.”

Rebecca drops down next to him in the corner booth, taking him in and then addressing the table. “Why is Ted red?”

He takes a sip of his beer, content to let her field their questions. His knight in shining armor.

“Maybe because you’re using your ridiculously gorgeous and super long legs to flirt with him from across the bar?” Keeley says. Rebecca raises her eyebrows skeptically at her before Keeley adds, “Fine, I was asking him if you guys have gotten around to fucking–”

Unfortunately, Rebecca also goes for a sip of her drink, and sputters just a tiny bit at Keeley’s words. He slides her a napkin but she recovers easily.

“Uhmm?” she turns to look at him, a playful contemplation on her face. He goes along with it, humming in thought and squinting like he’s trying to remember whether they had or not. 

“If you have to think about it, the answer’s no,” Roy breaks in dryly, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know,” Beard adds, seemingly only speaking to Roy, “Ted had a look this morning.”

That…doesn’t help his blush at all, especially when Rebecca turns to him and quirks an eyebrow, “Did he really?”

“You two are ridiculous,” Keeley adds, breaking into a smile. “Really, truly, fucking ridiculous.”

“Oh, relax,” Rebecca says, catching Ted’s eye, her own glimmering with mischief and desire and joy. He feels her shin meet his calf, her ankle locking with his own. “We’re nearly there.”

Ted takes a longer, deeper draw of his beer to hide his own grin. 

He watches her finally, finally start to stir next to him and feels just a little giddy. He can’t help but smile as she groans, stretching under the covers. It’s a few long moments before she really starts to wake and he waits patiently.

She cracks an eye open and finds him with it. She tries to scowl but can’t manage it, a smile breaking over her face, murmuring, “What’d you do to me, Lasso?”

“23 days,” he says, words bubbling out of him of their own volition, “We made it 23 days. We shoulda shot for a nice round number. Like 20. Or 25. Or even 24, a nice double dozen. 23 ain’t nothing special. Although, it is now, I suppose…I think it’s a prime number though, isn’t it?”

She scrubs her hands over her face, huffing out a laugh, “Why am I getting a maths lesson this morning?” She rolls over to face him and his heart clenches in his chest when she turns those green eyes on him, bright with sleep and mirth.

“I have no idea,” he says honestly. The sight of her in the soft morning light, her face bare and relaxed being the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes must have put him in some kind of mood. It took no time at all for his thoughts to get to jumping around in his brain, like excitable little dogs. All he had wanted to do was talk to her. Forever, if he could manage it. “I’ve been awake for half an hour and I just could not wait for you to wake up.”

Her eyes soften as she smiles, bringing a hand to his cheek to scratch at his morning stubble before scooting closer until she can kiss him, neither of them managing it very well with their grins. She pulls away, her hand sliding down to rest against his chest as she relaxes into the pillow, their noses just a hair apart. 

"I'm sure you could've come up with some creative ways to rouse me, if last night was any indication," she murmurs. 

"Mmm, maybe," he hums as she pulls her leg up to rest on his side. He gazes at her as his hand smooths a path back down her side, gliding over her hip, slowing as it meets her thigh. He grips her flesh there before continuing a lazy trail, curving around the bend of her knee, pressing into the muscles of her calf, dancing around the bones of her ankle and then retreating to retrace his steps. Her eyes slip shut in contentment as he caresses her.

His fingers continue tracing the planes of her leg for a few long moments. He can feel his fingerprints catch just barely on the tiny regrowth of hair in some places, but less so in others. He wonders at it idly, patiently anticipating the day that he knows every part of her; every smooth spot and every prickly one, every freckle, every mark, every scar.

"Sorry they're stubbly," she mumbles.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just apologize to me because your hair grows," he mumbles right back. 

She snorts, but smiles as she opens her eyes to look at him. 

"I love you," she murmurs.

He smiles and tilts his head back just enough to bump her nose with his. "I know you do, honey," he says quietly. "I love you, too."

Her green eyes blaze at him, and if he had a soft spot for her legs before, well, he's got an even bigger one now that they helped to bring them right here.

Chapter Text

They're golden and smooth, shiny with pool water, practically luminous in the sunshine.

They draw him in like a moth to a flame. 

He anchors himself with his toes on the narrow ledge at the edge of the pool bottom as she greets him with a fond, "Coach Lasso."

"Glad you decided to join us." He returns her greeting with a press of his lips to her shin, his hands finding the backs of her drifting feet under the water. His palms slide up her lovely toned calves before they hit the pool edge she's seated on. She huffs a laugh as he presses another kiss to her knee, the front of it, then the top. 

When he looks up at her, she rolls her eyes at him. "I swear to God, sometimes I think I'm the third wheel in a relationship between you and my legs."

He barely suppresses a giggle at that. "Oh no no, baby," he says. He grips the pool edge on either side of her, lifting himself out of the water enough to press a short kiss to her lips. "The third wheel is definitely your action-figurey arms."

She scoffs but laughs, then pushes hard at his chest, sending him splashing back in.

He grins at her as he emerges again, shoving his wet hair back off his face.

"Oh, you're playing a very dangerous game right now, darlin'." 

He treads back over to her but she stops him with a foot flat on his chest. She points a finger at him, smiling but sounding deadly when she warns, "Do not."

He just smiles, pushing her foot up easily to rest over his shoulder, her leg sliding over it as he treads closer.

"Ted," she warns – mostly unsuccessfully on account of how she giggles.

He doesn't stop, just eyeing her as he slides forward until her thigh rests on his shoulder.

"Ted Lasso, if you pull me into this pool–”  

"Oi!" They both whip their heads to the right where Roy is stretched on a lounge chair at the other end of the pool. "If you're about to fuck in the pool can you give us a heads up so we can leave?"

"Or start filming," Keeley adds from where she's laid out in the chair next to him, apparently watching them from under her sunglasses. 

He gives Rebecca a little caught out look and she smirks down at him with amusement. He keeps his eyes on her, watching a smile spread as he turns his head and presses a kiss to the tender skin on her inner thigh. She chuckles as he inhales and sinks down into the water, pushing off the wall. He dives deep, skims the bottom of the pool with his palm before he pushes back up.

He loves swimming, he always has, so he was pumped when Rebecca told them there was a booking issue with their hotel, and they were all getting an incidental upgrade to a much fancier one.

He seems to be the only one with any actual interest in being in the pool, though – Roy took a short dip and a few laps, Keeley'd sworn she would when she was sufficiently sunbaked and Rebecca…

She'd had to be convinced to come. So he's just pleased she'd come down with them at all. Especially for the opportunity for a glimpse at her in her bathing suit, because good God. It's solid black, one piece – barely. He's certain it probably has a name but it's closer to a bikini, just connected at her belly with a gold ring and she looks…she looks incredible. And he looks almost laughable next to her in his ratty dark blue trunks he's had since he was 22.

When he breaks the surface, she's pulled her sunglasses back on, turned to the side as she speaks to Keeley. He floats on his back, arms stretched out, pushing gently off the wall, sending him slowly drifting towards his lady.

Once he's in range, she catches him with a foot, though he can still hear conversation going in and out as water washes up and down over his ears. She crosses her feet on his abdomen and he lets out a little laugh as she enlists him as a floating footrest. 

He can't catch enough to join the conversation, so he just floats there, eyes closed, and lets his mind just drift with him. He rubs the tops of her feet mindlessly with one hand, the other landing on her legs, smoothing up and down. 

He's missed her a little bit. They've barely crossed paths at work, both busy as the season starts, then too exhausted to do much more than a dinner or two together after work followed mainly by lazing on the couch. It's nice to have this time together, even though they're technically at work, since there's a match tomorrow afternoon. It hardly feels like it at the moment though.

He doesn't know how long he floats like that but eventually her feet leave him and he cracks an eye open against the sun to peek at her. She smiles at him, getting a foot under him to pull him closer.

He rights himself in the water and she smiles, legs drifting to circle his chest as his hands come to rest on the tops of her thighs. "Last thing we need is you falling asleep and drowning yourself," she says, lifting her sunglasses to rest on top of her head behind the little swoop of her curled bangs. 

He hums as she brings a fingertip to his face, brushing it down the side of his nose, over his cheek. 

"You're looking a little sunkissed, my love," she murmurs. Her smile grows soft and fond as she traces the path of her finger with her eyes. "Look at your little freckles."

He tries to, crossing his eyes, just to make her giggle. He succeeds, her eyes glittering down at him as she laughs and he smiles in return. 

"You don't wanna swim with me?" he tries again, pulling a little pout. "Cannonball competition? See who can hold their breath longer? I'll teach you how to do a handstand in the shallow end?"

She snorts at his suggested activities. "Excuse you. Who says I can't already do a handstand?"

"Maybe you better come prove it," he grins.

She tilts her head, hands smoothing over his shoulders. "If we didn't have movie night this evening I would," she confesses. "I don't want to have to," she gestures to her face and hair, "all again."

He just nods, bowing his head to press a kiss to her leg. Despite what he thinks, that she's stunning without being done up as she is, he knows she's just not super comfortable with anyone but a select few seeing her without it. The team is not on that list, though he's witnessed her growing more and more comfortable dressing down with them in more casual settings. He knows there's a whole lot at play there, far more than just worrying about how she looks, so he doesn't speak up about it often.

"Maybe an evening victory swim tomorrow, hmm?" she says, squeezing his shoulders before her fingers thread through the hair at the back of his neck.

He smiles up at her. "Oh, I love your confidence in us."

"Not to mention this swimsuit is hardly for swimming," she says, looking down at herself.

"Mmm," he hums, eyes taking her in as well. He lifts one hand, tracing the edge that leads from her hip up her abdomen until he hits the ring, bumping over it to trace a circle inside it against the skin of her belly. "What is your swimsuit for then, if not for swimming?"

She half shrugs as she looks back up at him. "Looking fit."

A smile spreads wide across his face as he gazes up at her. "Well, since you actually look absolutely incredible I'd say it's fulfilling its purpose with gusto."

She laughs. "Thank you, darling."

He plants his hands next to her, standing up on his toes on the ledge, bringing them eye to eye. He presses a kiss to her lips again and she presses back, smiling when he pulls away. Her hands slide over his shoulders and down, tracing the dips of his flexed arms keeping him balanced.

"This is a little bit sexy by the way," she murmurs, nodding to his arms, assuming, he thinks, that he's holding all his weight up with them.

"There's a ledge on the side of the pool," he murmurs back, getting his balance before lifting his hands, wiggling his fingers. 

"Oh," she chuckles. He starts to sway back and she catches him around the waist, her hands warm against the chill of his wet skin. "Well, you're still sexy."

"Glad to hear it," he murmurs, pressing another little kiss to her lips, his hands landing on the tops of her thighs. "How you feel about sharing tonight?"

She smiles softly, arms circling his middle as he adds, "Been a minute since I got to sleep with you in my arms."

"Sleep, hmm?" she smirks a little and he grins in response.

"Yes, sleep. What do you take me for, huh? Can't a coach just want a little quality time with his boss?"

She laughs then nods, "Yes, please."

"Excellent. Yours or mine?"

"Mine's bigger."

"Oh, is it now?"

She tilts her head. "There's perks to being the boss."

"Then I guess there's perks to being with the boss," he says, then stops for a moment and scowls. "Wait."

She rolls her lips into her mouth, trying not to laugh. "Mhmm. See, I knew you were only with me to get a bigger hotel room. We need to have a meeting with HR?"

He bites back a laugh. "Dang. Was hoping you wouldn't catch on."

She shakes her head at him. "I knew it."

"I want that mini bar and I don't care who I have to sleep with to get it."

She laughs, leaning in and pressing her smile to his lips. He kisses her back gladly, enthusiastically, before he hears the muffled incoming hoots that can only be their football team.

She breaks away from him but stays close as she mutters, "I think I may be in danger of getting very very wet."

He smirks, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. "I know I'm an exceptional kisser but really, honey–"

She rolls her eyes a little as she smiles, smacking his shoulder. "Stop." 

He just chuckles as he pulls back, then schools his expression. He pulls one of her hands to lay flat on his chest, his own over top of it. "I'll protect you," he says gravely.

He can practically see her resisting the urge to roll her eyes again. "These legs aren't just decoration, you know," she says, kicking a leg out behind him. "I can fend them off just fine."

He laughs, hands dropping back to her thighs, "Oh, trust me, I know the power you wield with these."

"Still, I think I'll join Keeley and Roy out of the splash zone," she says.

"'Kay," he nods, lifting his hands. He gives the outside of her thigh near her hip a mindless swat with a little more oompf than anticipated, giving them both pause at the almost obscene slap of it.

She stops, a smirk growing as she lifts a brow at him, eyes dropping to his hand wordlessly for a moment.

"Right," he says, feeling his cheeks pink just a little before he launches himself off the wall, diving backwards as the boys make their way out to the pool.

"Sleep, huh?" she pants, feeling the warmth of his breath wash over the side of her neck, harsh and faltering as he thrusts into her steadily. 

"Yeah," he exhales, his hand landing next to hers on the top of the upholstered headboard. "Yeah. Sleep. Love sleeping." 

She's got the heavy heat of him pressed all along her back, his deep, sex-drunk voice in her ear, his hand spread wide against her front, traveling from her breasts down to her core. She's still fluttering from her last orgasm with another already starting to build low in her gut.

"Yes," she breathes, "Love sleeping."

"Gotta get tired first, right?" he pants. His fingers find her clit, circling gently, and it has her moaning, hands clenching on the headboard. 

Her eyes fall shut, spine arching as he fucks her faster, the friction, the stretch, sending her hurtling quickly towards the edge. 

"Oh, fuck, Ted," she cries as it sharpens and sharpens, working her up to a fever pitch.

"Yes, baby," he groans in her ear. He pulls his hand from between her legs and she almost screams at him for it – until she feels his hand land with a sharp stinging slap on her ass and then she's crying out senselessly for a different reason, pleasure breaking, his hips unrelenting as she clenches tight around him, feeling his fingers digging into her hip desperately.

"Fuck," she whines, limbs trembling as he finally slows. Her arms shake and for a moment she thinks she's about to give herself a black eye on the headboard, but his arm curls across her front.

"C'mere," he pants, taking her weight, pulling her with him as he sits back on his heels. Her knees spread to either side of his, cock still buried deep inside her as she drapes herself back over him in his lap.

"'S why I got a bigger room," she breathes. "Two floors away from all the others."

"Oh, my honey's so smart," he moans, lips pressed to her neck. His hands cover her breasts before gliding down her torso, over her hips, down along her legs.

"Thought we might be doing some 'sleeping'."

"Wouldn't be surprised if they still heard you." She can perfectly imagine the smirk on his face.

"Oh, fuck you," she says, unable to help her grin.

"Fuck me, indeed," he hums in her ear, hands sliding back up the tops of her thighs, fingertips ghosting up the sensitive skin inside. His hips press up into hers like they can't help themselves and she gasps at the combination of sensations.

"Too much?" he murmurs. "You tappin' out?"

She is actually extremely sensitive after four – no, five – orgasms but she rolls her head against his shoulder, muttering, "Never," before she closes her teeth on his earlobe, tugging slightly. 

"Mhmm," he hums knowingly, hands gliding to her hips, holding her still as he pulls out of her carefully. She whines and he presses a request for her to lay down against her ear.

She does easily – gratefully, with limbs like jelly, arms falling over her head – and he joins her, laying himself over her. He kisses her deeply, then pulls away, dotting lazy kisses down her jaw, his hips grinding a little, his leaking cock nestled in the crease of her hip. 

"You gonna come for me, love?" she mumbles against his hair. 

"I suppose," he sighs dramatically against her sternum. "Since I can't stay inside you forever."

She smiles and rolls her eyes as he sits up, eyes on her as he wraps a hand around himself, already grunting. She watches him, smile unfading – she loves watching him like this, watching his gorgeous, capable hands focus on himself. 

His hand squeezes at her thigh where it's draped over his own, his breath coming faster already. She wraps her legs around his hips, heels digging into his ass as she stretches languidly, feeling the delicious strain of the work of five orgasms. She watches him watch her from under her eyelashes, his eyes skating over every bit of her. His hand strokes faster, hips jerking as he groans.

"R'becca," he grunts shakily. "Mmm, fuck, you're so gorgeous, baby. Everythin' about you. I love you."

She chuckles a little at his babbly pre-orgasm state, squeezing him with her legs. "I love you too."

His hips jerk again, hand tight on the flesh of her thigh as he chokes out a moan, coming over her belly with a strained, "Fuck."

She watches him as his hand starts to slow, pulling every drop from himself, breaths sharp and shallow. His hand loosens its grip on her, smoothing over the area gently, his gaze hooded on her as he lets go of his cock.

He sighs and tips to the side, his back hitting the bed heavily, and she chuckles, draping her legs over his groin. His hand comes to rest on top of them, smoothing along her shin. She watches him wipe his other hand off on his chest and shakes her head. 

She just watches him, heart full and fluttering as she does. His breathing slows and deepens gradually, his hands occupying themselves by dancing over planes of her legs.

"I think you broke me," he mutters eventually.

"God, I hope not. I rather like you."

"We should not have sex for a week and a half more often."

"Is that what we're coming away from this with? Because I'm not sure I agree."

He laughs at that, cheek rounding and dimple appearing. "I love you. Did I say that?" He rolls his head to look up at her, squeezing her knee. "I feel like I might've said that already."

"You did." She smiles wide at him. She doesn't think they've had sex even once where he hadn't said it at some point. "You say it as much as you like though."

"Mmm," he hums, eyes slipping shut. "I'll remember that."

He sighs once more before he sits up, her legs landing in his lap. He rises, sliding out from under her thighs with a squeeze.

"Sweet baby Jesus," he gasps as he stands, keeping hold of the bedpost. She watches as he stretches backwards a little, groaning. "You really did break me."

She chuckles as he holds a hand out to her, wiggling his fingers. "C'mon, shower time, then bed time."

She groans and he shakes his head, "Hmm-mm, Miss 'Don't you dare stop'. If I have to be vertical, you have to be vertical."

She giggles and takes his hand, letting him pull her to standing, an almost numbing soreness traveling through her thighs. "Christ, can we even manage a shower? I don't think I can stand that long." 

He snorts, leading her to the bathroom. "Could do a rinse and a bath?"

She squeezes his hand. "Oh, excellent idea."

She has a late breakfast with Keeley in the hotel, the boys having taken off for the pitch early to get warmed up and psyched up.

It's nice to have the time with her. She's missed her almost as much as Ted with how busy she's been with the start of the season and how busy Keeley's been with work. She'd made the time to come out with them though, citing the almost fancy hotel and the chance for some time away with Roy, even if it wasn't an all out vacation.

She can't blame her. She's taking the same opportunity with Ted. It's the only reason she doesn't feel quite so bad making plans with him for the evening, knowing Keeley wants to spend time with Roy.

When they finish eating and rise, Rebecca wavers just barely, the backs of her thighs impossibly tight, her glutes and abdomen all equally sore.

Keeley barely suppresses a cackle. "Oh my God, you two must have had a hell of a night," she laughs. "You're walking like a newborn colt."

"Oh, stop it," she tries to admonish, unable to bite back a smile. 

"Don't even try to tell me I'm wrong," she says. "Anyone with eyes at the pool yesterday would've known you two were about to screw each other's brains out."

She swats at her arm as they start to head up to Keeley's room to kill some time before they head to the pitch. "I told you we haven't had a lot of time together lately."

"Mmm, sure made up for it, didn't you?" Keeley smirks as they step into the lift. "Gonna bribe the manager to get me in the room next to yours next time."

"There wasn't anything to hear," she says, pushing a high and mighty tone into her voice.

"Oh, please," Keeley snorts. "You're loud and I know it. Why else would you be two floors away?" 

Christ, she thought she was being subtle with that. "I wanted a bigger bed," she says nonchalantly, knowing she's not fooling her for a minute 

Keeley laughs, "Right, so you could lay your gaffer out on it and ride hi–”

The lift dings and the door slides open and there's Ted, grinning ear to ear as he sees who's inside.

"Well, hel-lo, ladies," he says brightly.

"Ted," they both greet with varying levels of surprise.

"What are you doing back here?" she adds, unable to help smiling at the unexpected sight of him.

He shakes a folder in his hands, "Forgot my notes."

She smiles and stretches a hand out to stop the door as it starts to close and Keeley steps out of the lift. She moves to follow her but Ted meets her in the middle with a twinkle in his eye, his hand landing on her waist. He presses a short kiss on her lips as he spins them around, switching places with her.

He steps back as she wobbles slightly, surprised by the swift motion and the displacement, smiling as he grins at her. 

"I'll see y'all later," he says. They both watch as his face lights up, seemingly at random, as he leans over to push the button for the lobby. "Oh, wait, I've always wanted to do this!"

He smiles as the door starts to shut, then leans and leans and leans against the wall of the lift, holding her eye and winking just as it closes.

She can't help but giggle a little.

"That man is unreal," Keeley laughs. 

"Don't I know it," she murmurs. They start down the hall towards Keeley's room, and once inside she gratefully drops herself on the sofa with a grunt.

Keeley just chuckles again, dropping herself next to her. Rebecca lays herself out, stretching her back, propping her head against Keeley's thigh.

"What a cruel cosmic joke that I should meet the love of my life when I'm middle aged instead of 23 when I could've fucked the daylights out of him and been fine."

"Mmm. Why don't you tell me all about it? Minute by minute, in great detail."

Rebecca shoots a look up at her.

"Oh, come on, I tell you about me and Roy."

"And if I actually wanted to know the details of the sex life of my best friend and one of my coaches, I might be inclined to reciprocate."

Keeley rolls her eyes fondly. "Don't act like I've never given you ideas to try."

Rebecca feels a blush grace her cheeks. "Ideas that ensure that I can't fucking walk the next day."

Keeley's head falls back with a laugh and Rebecca can't help but smile.

Of course they win.

All it took was telling the team he had an important date riding on this game and they were picture perfect with a crushing 5-nil. The locker room is boisterous with adrenaline, everyone shouting congratulations, but it doubles in volume as Keeley and Rebecca join them.

Rebecca's eyebrows leap up as they shout what seems like jumbled nonsense, a chorus of "For the boss!" and chants of "Boss and coach!" that makes him think using their relationship as a motivator might not have been a great idea.

She makes her way over to him, giving thanks and congratulations along the way before finally landing in his arms.

"What in God's name…"

He blushes a little. "Might have told 'em I had an important date riding on this one."

She shoots him a look, but he can see her lips fighting a smile. "Don't do that."

He nods, biting back his own grin. She leans in, pressing her lips to his cheek. "Beautiful win, love," she murmurs in his ear. "But I was equally committed to an evening defeat swim."

His smile wins out as she pulls away, eyes twinkling as she turns to congratulate the team. 

They do go out to celebrate with them for a little bit, but they cut out after less than an hour, getting hoots from those that notice, started, he thinks, by Keeley.

They get a ride back to the hotel as the sun starts to sink down in the sky, bit by bit casting everything in a warm glow. He watches her in the car, his beautiful lovely Rebecca, their hands clasped between them. He watches her take in the landscape as it paints itself gold, glancing briefly down at her phone each time it dings. She's busy after matches, he knows, as standings change and shareholders and sponsors alike react to the outcome. It makes his heart full that she'd take this time for him anyway.

He looks down at their hands, their interlocked fingers. There's a question lingering in his mind, one he isn't sure how to ask, or if it's too soon to ask, or if he should wait, and let her. He's just at the point where he'd like to spend more, a lot more, or, well, all, of his extra time with her. All his nights and all his mornings. Go to sleep next to her, wake up the same way. Call the same place home. End up in the same bed no matter how little time they actually got to spend together that day.

He thinks she's there with him, based on the way she pouts when he leaves her to go to his flat to change or shower or call Henry, always asking him to stay. There's a difference though, he knows, between just being there all the time and actually calling it home. 

For now though, he's got a date, and he's not gonna waste it pondering all that.

They part to change into their suits and he beats her down to the pool, but waits for her, stretching out on a lounge chair. A swim will feel good. He's mournfully stiff after yesterday's activities, so it'll be nice to stretch things out in the water.

He wolf-whistles when she comes down, getting a fond glare from him as she drops a small bag next to his chair. He rises, hands landing on her hips as he presses a kiss to her lips.

"Now can I toss you in the pool?"

She half shrugs, eyes twinkling. "If you can."

His brows come down and then his hands are hovering in empty air as she makes for the pool, jumping in in perfect cannonball form.

His smile grows impossibly wide as he follows her, coming to stand at the edge of the pool, hands on his hips as she surfaces.

"Not bad," he grins at her.

"Thank you," she says, then lifts her brows, gesturing to him expectantly.

He forgoes the cannonball for a smooth dive, going deep and resurfacing right in front of her. He wipes his eyes and pushes his hair back as he treads in the water, smiling at her. "Hi."

"Hi," she smiles back. "That was surprisingly graceful."

"Surprisingly?" He puts a hand to his chest, feigning a wound.

"I shouldn't be surprised really," she muses. "You're very graceful in a lot of ways."

"Apology accepted."

She chuckles and tilts back, floating on her back, arms outstretched. "I haven't been swimming in ages."

He just watches her drift away from him, his thoughts going with her. She lifts her head when he doesn't respond, catching his eye. He must have some kind of look because she narrows her eyes at him. "What?"

He shakes his head, "Thinking about all the things that are perfectly level with my mouth right now." He bounces his eyebrows at her, eyes sinking along her body and back up as she chuckles.

"Shame this ain't a private pool," he says, treading closer to her. "I'd be chowing down."

"Oh my God," she says instantly, pushing a wave of water at him in outrage as he laughs. "Of all the ways you could've said it, you had to pick that?"

"I did," he nods, grinning at her. "Because I knew it'd get some kind of reaction, and needed to know what."

She just shakes her head, closing her eyes and fighting a smile. 

When she bumps the far edge of the pool she rights herself and challenges him to a race. It ends, naturally, in a vehement dispute of who's won – a dispute that then ends with him sweeping her up in his arms in the shallow end and her cackling as he wades to the drop off and heaves her out into the deep end.

She lands with a splash and a squeal, shoving water at him in retaliation as soon as she emerges. He evades her with a grin, driving deep, circling her like a shark. His hand skims up her leg as he surfaces in front of her, arms around her waist.

She's smiling as he pulls her closer to him, his legs extended out to the right of her hips. She leans in, closing her lips over his briefly and he smiles into her kiss, kicking his legs a little bit, sending them into a spin. 

She pulls back, giggling as he kicks faster, twirling them around the pool as she grips his shoulders. He can't help but join her as she laughs, the sound rich and gorgeous, settling directly in his heart.

He eases up when he starts to get dizzy and they drift to a stop. Her eyes are so bright as she looks at him, joy and mirth making them glow a stunning jade. 

The sun has started to set in earnest, lighting up the sky a deep orange and he sighs. He bumps her nose with his, pressing a sweet little kiss to her smile before he pulls back and murmurs, "Pool closes at sundown."

"It's taken care of," she murmurs back.

He pulls back enough to really look at her, brows lifted. She just gives him an overly innocent look and he has to chuckle at the thought of her inside greasing someone's palm so they can swim as long as they like.

He shakes his head a little and she tilts hers suspiciously at him. "What?"

He just smiles. "You're funny."

"I am not," she says. She lets go of him, floating to the surface on her back again, head turned to face him. "I'm practical."

He just nods placatingly, his hands rising to her back and the backs of her legs for no real reason than to be touching her.

He pulls her closer, placing a kiss against her bare side. Her arm comes around his shoulders, fingers threading through his hair. He turns to look at her but her eyes are shut as she floats, her face calm and peaceful in a way he very much enjoys seeing on her, just because it can be rare sometimes. 

He presses a kiss to the inside of her forearm before dipping under it to put his lips at her cheek. He lets himself float up, his body beneath hers. She hums, clasping his hand on her belly, both of them adjusting, their hips sinking beneath the water as they find the right buoyancy for them to float pressed together. 

Her calm spreads through him too and he tips his head against hers as they just drift through the pool.

"Thanks for playin' with me," he says into her hair.

"I like playing with you," she murmurs.

"Mmm." He presses a kiss to her head, eyes closed. "Me too."

The swim feels good for her tight muscles, the hot shower to rinse the pool water off even better, but nothing quite tops Ted's thumbs digging into her shoulder blades. 

She whimpers as he works the tension out with perfect pressure, hands equally relentless and gentle. They travel down her spine under her tank top, fingers digging in, the heels of his hands pressing and soothing.

"Oh, fuck, you're good at this," she groans.

"Well," he drawls. "I'm not sure if you actually looked at my resume when you hired me to ruin your team, but I do have a minor in sports medicine under my belt. Strained muscles sort of come with the territory."

She did know that – she remembers being begrudgingly impressed with the amount of qualifications he had before she blocked it out, certain it wouldn't make any difference in her scheme. 

"Why are you so good at making people forget that you're very very smart?" she mumbles into her arms, crossed under her head.

"It's a carefully honed skill," he muses thoughtlessly, and she puts that comment in her back pocket to ponder sometime. His hands travel down, pressing into her lower back. She groans and tenses as he hits a knot and his hands ease up slightly. "Try to relax."

She exhales and does, softening once more under his hands. "I am," she mumbles. "Very relaxed."

"Good," he murmurs. She tries to keep her breathing deep, but groans as he digs hard into her glutes, getting to where she's sorest, her panties leaving plenty of skin for him to work with.

"Fuck me," she moans.

"Don't think that's the solution, considering how we ended up here," he says. She can hear the smile in his voice and chuckles against her arm. 

He moves down the backs of her thighs, thumbs digging and stretching, pulling more groans and tension from her. He works his way down her legs slowly, taking his time.

Enjoying it immensely if she knows him at all.

"I hope you're planning on reciprocating," he murmurs, working one of her calves.

"Of course, love," she mumbles. "Though I doubt it'll feel as good as this. Some of us don't have fancy degrees in rubbing one out." He snickers and she smiles at the sound. "Muscles, I mean."

"Sure, sure," he says. He pulls at her hips for her to roll over, smiling down at her when she does. "I think we could certainly get you an honorary degree in 'rubbing one out'."

She laughs, stacking pillows behind her as he starts in on her quads, still straddling her knees. She just watches him, hair falling into his face as it dries, intent on his task in his silly striped boxers, working the heel of his hand against her thigh, shiny with oil. Just because she teased him about turning her into – in Keeley's words – a newborn colt.

She loves him so terribly much. More than she can even fathom sometimes.

He moves the other side and looks up when she sighs, smiling at her, still kneading her leg. She just smiles back and he tilts his head. "What?"

She shakes her head slightly, unable to shake her smile. "Nothing."

"Hmm," he hums, eyes narrowing as he nods. "Mhmm."

"What? What is 'mhmm'?" she asks.

His eyes twinkle a little before he looks down, working the last of the tension from her thigh. He wipes his hands on the towel beside him before he looks up, still smiling softly. "I love you too."

She feels a little blush come to her cheeks at her transparency – no matter that he already knows it, that she's said it dozens and dozens of times. She sits up and he scoots forward on his knees until he's straddling her hips, close enough for her to take his face in her hands and press her lips to his. She hums as he kisses her like he's got all the time in the world, lips soft and sweet. 

When he pulls back, he sighs, bringing a hand up to twirl her damp hair around his fingers. 

"You wanna hit the hay?" he murmurs. 

She smooths the ends of his mustache before her hands fall, sinking down his chest, circling his middle. "You don't want your massage?"

"I'll take a raincheck," he whispers, eyes soft and a little sleepy on hers. "We should get some sleep. Headed home tomorrow."

She ponders why she isn't as glad as she usually is to be headed home, back to her town, to her own house, own bed. It doesn't take much wondering.

She wants this – him not just in her space but all over her space, in every corner of it. All the time. For her space to be his space, and his hers.

"Mmm." She nods, pressing a little kiss to his lips. "Home."

"Home," he repeats.

"Richmond."

"That's correct."

"The club," she murmurs. "My house, your flat."

"Those…are places we could call home, yes," he nods dubiously.

"We could…," she lifts a shoulder, "we could narrow the list down."

She watches his face, watches his eyes take her in as a smile spreads wide, dimples deepening adorably.

"I don't really think there's a lot of places to sleep at the club," he says, eyes golden and glittering.

She gives him a look. She doesn't know what she expected.

"Unless you mean…?" He lifts an eyebrow. "My flat ain't really big enough to run a football club."

"Ted."

"Oh, like you and me?" He gestures between them, grinning. "Not sure my flat's big enough even for that."

She stares at him before dropping back against the pillows. "Nevermind."

He grins as he leans over her. "No take-backsies!"  

She looks up at him, the joy on his face obvious as he sinks down, closing his lips over hers. He kisses her deeply, excitedly, smiling so wide when he pulls back, she can't help but return it.

"I'd love to move in with you, honey," he murmurs.

"Yeah?" 

He nods, "Yeah."

"Okay," she grins.

"'Kay."

"We can start figuring it out when we get home?"

His smile grows again as he nods. "When we get home."

Chapter Text

"This is why I hire people to do things for me," she grumbles.

"So that you miss out on the satisfaction and sense of accomplishment of a sore body and a day of labor?" comes from the other end of the bed.

"Yes," she says flatly. 

He snorts as she slides her hand along the inside of his thigh. 

They're exhausted. Clean now, stretched opposite each other on the bed, her arm hooked under his knee and both adamantly enjoying the ceiling fan, but exhausted. And she blames him entirely for convincing her there wasn't any sense in hiring someone to move him in when he has "so little stuff that's actually mine" and "we're just going across the Green" and "it'll be fun!"

She did succeed in insisting on driving back and forth at least. She was absolutely not carrying boxes over one by one and making a spectacle of the status of their relationship to all of Richmond. Especially considering the way the number of boxes continued to grow in tandem with his smiles growing sheepish and her looks growing exasperated. She doesn't even know how many times she heard, "Shoot, I guess that's mine too," today.

But it's all here. He lives here. With her. It makes her a little giddy, she won't lie.

"I'm too old for 'a day of labor'," she groans dramatically.

"Oh, please," he chuckles. "You're in better shape than me. And I don't wanna hear it, 'cause we both know what you're sore from, and it ain't moving boxes."

She grins at the ceiling. It's hardly her fault she couldn't resist him earlier, irritated or not, all sweaty and disheveled in his basketball shorts, and ended up riding him to high heaven in the front hallway in probably the quickest, dirtiest sex they've ever had. Especially considering he's the one that had pulled her back against him once everything was here, grinding against her and inhaling at her neck, mumbling about how he can't resist her when she's in those little shorts, slick with sweat, skin hot.

"Well, you started it," she says haughtily, getting another laugh from him as she scratches her nails against the hair on his thigh.

"I suppose I did," he concedes. "But you certainly finished it."

"I suppose I did," she echoes, grinning when he chuckles.

"I got a question for ya," he asks, sliding his palm along her calf where her leg is bent and leaning against his torso.

"Shoot," she says, a part of her internally snorting at her having picked up that verbal habit from him.

"I was thinking I'd have my mother ship out the last of what I have over there in Kansas," he offers, voice relaxed. "How would you feel about that?"

She almost frowns at how casually he suggests it, when that feels…very big to her. Like cutting one more tie back to Kansas. 

"I didn't realize you still had things over there."

"I do," he says. "Stuff from the house that Michelle packed up, winter clothes, silly little things, childhood stuff there ain't no sense in traveling with."

She hums in thought, smoothing her palm over his warm thigh. She'd love to see him settle here entirely, indefinitely, but only if it's something he wants.

"But I don't…I don't feel like I'm traveling anymore," he adds and she smiles at the ceiling.

"If you want to bring it all over, darling, I am all for it," she says, squeezing his leg. 

"Feels right," he murmurs as he shifts. He releases her leg and pulls his own from her grasp, crawling up over her. 

"Then by all means," she says, watching him as he trails his nose from the top of her knee up to the hem of her short nightie.

"Excellent," he murmurs. "I don't know how much there is. We may have to find somewhere to stash it."

"We have the space."

He hums, clearly very thoroughly distracted from the conversation and she smiles as he starts to bunch the silk up. A little wash of tingling moves through her at his warm fingers finding the skin of her naked hip.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asks with amusement as he wiggles between her legs. He hooks a hand under one of her knees, pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh before he pulls it over his shoulder, his fingers stroking her skin reverently. 

“I was gonna go down on my new roomie.”

She laughs at that, feeling him smile against her skin. 

“Since she so graciously and with endless patience sacrificed her day off to me being stubborn,” he mumbles against her thigh. 

She hums as his lips trail further down, pushing her fingers through his thick hair. 

"And because I can't resist her when she's fresh from the shower," he adds. "Soft and warm and smellin' sweet."

She chuckles, shaking her head. "You used that excuse earlier."

"Well, I guess I just can't resist you at all," he mumbles into her skin.

She relaxes back as her eyes close, laying one arm over her head, her other hand still playing in his hair. She gets comfortable, sighing deeply under his attention as his hands move over her, humming when his lips land home.

She has no trouble finding the space to stash boxes so he can sort through it all at his leisure as they start to trickle in from across the pond.

There’s a smaller room opposite her office at the back of the house, one that she has no idea what the initial use was intended to be but had become a ‘deal with it later’ storage space since she herself moved in. And when she goes in for the first time in several months, she’s relieved to discover she has, over the years, mostly dealt with it all, slowly dispersing things through the house with each odd remembrance and I wonder where that’s got to.

There’s a couple boxes left she’s not certain of the contents of. A treadmill that can definitely go, if Ted has no use for it, considering the layer of dust on it. A footstool, a few pieces of framed art she clearly must not have cared much for.

She tucks in and starts on the boxes, dropping onto the floor next to the first before she pulls it open.

It’s odds and ends with no rhyme or reason. Little things from her memories, things that have lived in this box since way back when she moved in with Rupert, she's sure – one of her grandfather’s golf balls, a framed painting her grandmother made that she can instantly picture in their house that she can’t believe is still tucked away back here. Three identical photo albums that she sets aside.

Some random, completely pointless items she took from her house with Rupert for God knows what reason – a decorative crystal flower that sat on the entry table, a hideous empty vase; nothing worth anything to her – it all gets set on the treadmill to go.

The second, smaller box goes back even further. She pulls out things from her childhood – a wooden box her maternal grandfather had made full of pictures and messy little drawings her mother had kept that she herself doesn’t know why she still has. Trinkets, just silly little things with too many memories to let herself toss. She comes across the little plastic horse with a cowboy fused on it that lived on her headboard and she can’t help but smile at it, knowing it’s going to get her nothing but grief, but won’t be able to resist showing Ted. 

It’s like she conjures him with the thought – she hears the front door and glances at her watch, wondering at her having been back here for several hours already. She hears his little noises she knows are from him kicking off his shoes, hanging his coat, setting his backpack on the bench. 

She loves those little noises.

“Rebecca?” he calls out.

“Back here!” she responds, pulling a few more little things from the box.

He appears in the doorway after a moment, greeting her with a, “Hey, sugar.” He looks around with a smile as he comes in, clocking her odd little piles. “Whatcha doin’?”

She gives him a smile of her own, giving him a once over in his white polo as he starts to sit next to her against the wall, dropping a kiss on her lips as he does. 

“Going through some things,” she says. “I think we can put your things back here when they come so you can go through them as fast or as slow as you like.” 

He nods, giving her a smile. “Sounds good. Mama went and got everything Michelle had too, which wasn't much, but she's gonna facetime me this week and we'll see what all can come and what can go."

"Good," she says, watching him look around at the mess around her. His grin grows when he spies the little stack of loose pictures in her hand in her lap that she hasn't even looked at yet. His eyes bounce between her and photos and she chuckles. 

"Is that a tiny little Rebecca Welton I'm seeing there with strawberries smeared all over her face or…?"

She smiles, lifting the photos, looking at the top one before she hands him the whole stack. "Yes. Yes it is."

He wiggles in delight as he looks at it, his smile wide and bright. "Oh my God, look at you."

She chuckles as he flips to the next, more of her making a mess of herself as a toddler, then the next, one of her all giggles in the garden of her grandmother's house. 

Ted turns the photo to her, his eyebrows tipped up, lips pulled down in a pout. "You're so stinkin' cute."

She just laughs and he turns the photo back to him again. "I mean…I knew it but, oh my god, seeing it…" 

He shakes his head, smiling at the picture. "I wanna wrap this little girl up in my arms and squeeze her."

"You have," she says, getting a chuckle from him. 

He flips through the rest of the little stack, which ends up being random ones of her as a toddler to maybe six or seven years old. She watches over his shoulder, explaining who's who when her parents or her grandparents or her aunts or uncles appear with her.

"Can't believe you were ever so teeny tiny," he says with a soft little smile that he turns on her with creased eyes.

"You know, I was even tinier actually," she says with a smile, leaning forward and pulling the three albums closer. She grabs the top one and pulls it into her lap.

"I think one of these…" she says as she pulls it open and then stops, the smile fading from her face.

She sighs. Definitely not what she was looking for. 

Ted must feel the shift in her mood – he leans to peek over the cover and then she feels his lips land on her shoulder.

"What on earth could have possibly possessed me to keep this?" she muses, staring down at a picture of her smiling at her ex-husband, draped in white and actually, somehow, looking happy about it. 

She shakes her head as she looks up at Ted, finding simple caring on his face. 

"When I was tearing through that house, packing my things and full of rage, why in God's name did I think I would ever want to look at this?"

He looks at her and seems to actually think about it for a moment, his eyes dropping back down to the album. 

"Maybe because your heart was broken," he says softly, reaching across her lap to tap a photo of her, smiling wide, "and hers wasn't yet."

She just shakes her head at herself a little bit, mostly just surprised at herself. She hadn't even remembered she had it, like she'd blanked it out of her memory completely, embarrassed that she would've still been feeling enough to want it after everything he did.

"Maybe because there's some good ones of people you love," he considers. "Family, friends, you know." 

"Maybe there is," she muses, passing it to Ted's lap, not in the mood to find out at the moment. "The last time I looked at it was well over a decade ago. I can't believe I didn't burn it."

"Well," he says, looking down at that first page still. "If you ever decide you want to go through it, take out any you might want, you know I'll do it with you."

She traces his profile with her eyes, a little smile pulling at her lips. "You would too, wouldn't you?"

"What do you mean?" he says, looking up at her.

"You would sit with me and look at pictures of me marrying another man, one you really don't like, just so I didn't have to do it alone."

"Of course I would," he says, brows pulling down. 

"A lot of people would probably not want to do that," she explains.

He shakes his head, giving her a bit of a smile. "I can't even imagine getting jealous of a photo when I have you right here, living and breathing. Right next to me."

He looks down, tapping the photo again and somehow still smiling as he looks at it. "Not when you look at me like that every single day."

She lets out a deep breath at that as he turns to her, expression nothing but loving as he takes her in. And that sentiment and that love in his gaze has her heart ballooning in her chest. 

She leans towards him and kisses him, reaching across to close the album and push it away. Her hand slides around his bicep then, fingers creeping under the sleeve of his polo as his hand lifts to her cheek, thumb brushing her skin.

She eases back, squeezing his arm and giving him a smile as his hand falls away from her face. 

"I have something to show you," she says, smiling wide as she turns away from him, grabbing the little cowboy from the other side of her.

She turns back to him and his mouth pops open as she hands it to him. 

"Oh, look at him. Where did this come from?" 

"I had it in my room when I was little." 

"Shut up," he says, turning to her, looking surprised and endlessly amused.

"I also had some cowboy posters on my wall," she tells him, watching his smile widen as he stares at her.

"You're bullshittin' me," he says and she laughs.

"I'm not. I'll take you up there someday and show you, because it's all still there," she says, watching him shake his head at the little figurine.

"I am elated right now," he says. "And heartbroken that I didn't already know this. Why, exactly, did you have cowboy posters in your room?"

"Why not? I liked them," she defends, taking the cowboy back from his hand. "And whatever it was I was trying to manifest with that worked eventually, so I don't want to hear it."

He laughs again, eyes twinkling. "Is he staying out or going back in the box?"

"Staying out, of course," she says, setting it aside and turning to him, tipping her head against the wall. 

He gazes at her with that fond little grin. "I guess I know what I'm being for Halloween this year."

She bites back a smile, giving him a look. "Don't play with my heart like that."

"I'm not even talking cheap costume," he says. "I know Mama's still got my hat somewhere."

She looks at him for a moment, trying to picture it and only barely succeeding.

"Oh my God," he mutters slowly. "You're blushing."

"Oh, shut up," she says with a grin, turning to stand but getting caught around the waist. She laughs as he tugs her across his lap, wrapping his arms around her.

"I think I still have some boots somewhere, too, from when my uncle took me line dancing," he says, smirking up at her as she wraps an arm over his shoulders. "Real nice ones."

"If you're messing with me, I'm actually going to be heartbroken," she warns and he smiles.

"I am so serious," he says. "You just call me Tex Lasso."

She laughs, leaning down and kissing him for a long minute, pulling away with a little hum. 

"Alright," she says. "Now I have to make some sense of this mess."

"You want some help?"

"I would love some, thank you."

"I'll actually take my thanks in the form of getting to see those teeny tiny Rebecca pictures, please."

He can hear her in the living room as he steals a pre-dinner cookie from the jar on the island.The cookie jar that was his, which now sits on her island. Usually full of something he's cooked up here, in this kitchen. Because he lives here now.

It makes him a little giddy still.

She's chatting with Keeley in what he assumed was a call confirming their plans to all meet at the pub to catch up, but now seems to be the actual catching up. 

He wanders that way, knowing they have less than an hour before they're supposed to meet everyone. He hears her giggle and is already smiling as he reaches the doorway. 

All he can see of her are her legs, bent along the back of the couch and crossed at the ankles, her toes stretching in their short reprieve from her heels.

If he had any hope of leaving her be, it's gone now.

"It's very easy so far," she says to Keeley as he catches her eye, stopping at the end of the couch. He has an inkling he knows what she's talking about – and it's confirmed when she gives him a soft, sweet smile.

It is easy so far. Like it could be hard to be seeing this around every corner.

"It's like a siren call," he mutters, shoving some more cookie in his mouth.

She grins as she notices his gaze, watching her lift her legs and rearrange them with a bit of a flourish, laying then back down with the other crossed over now. He leans a hip against the back of the couch, grinning and shaking his head as he munches on the last of his cookie.

"No, I don't think so," she says to Keeley, watching him as she slowly bends one leg, sliding her foot along her shin.

"Good lord," he chuckles, feeling his color rise when she laughs, eyes twinkling at him.

"Fucking with Ted," she answers Keeley, tossing him a wink as he laughs.

He steps further along the couch, his palm landing on her ankle and gliding along her calf as she laughs at Keeley's response.

"If I ever call you in the middle of fucking Ted, it's because there's a medical emergency," she says, chuckling when he widens his eyes at her. His focus returns to his fingertips as they glide along the inside of her knee, doing a loop there before he looks back up at her, slowing his trail down her thigh.

"No, I think we can fit it all in," she says, voice a little low as she eats him up with her eyes – that look that always has his blood rushing a little faster.

She rolls her eyes with a grin at whatever Keeley says, responding, "That's getting you a hang up," before dropping her phone on the coffee table. 

She smiles up at him, extending one leg and bending the other, making as much space as possible within the confines of her skirt as his hand smooths along her thigh.

"Do we have time for this?" he asks, scratching a little at her inner thigh.

"Not really," she grins.

"Mm," he grunts, enjoying the tender skin under his fingertips, keeping his eyes on hers as her smile grows.

"Get over here."

He complies immediately.

"I have new away kit mockups," Higgins announces as he steps in the office. 

"Ooh," Keeley says, looking intrigued but confused from the sofa. "Again?"

"Every time we get a new sponsor," Rebecca says as she rises, moving to join her on the couch to look them over as Higgins hands Keeley the tablet in his hands. "Which is a blessedly common thing these days."

"Well, that's good."

She drops onto the near end of the sofa, crossing her legs, but barely settles before Keeley lets out a noise. 

"Oh my god," she chuckles, pressing her fingers to her lips, and then Higgins is gagging, both their gazes on Rebecca's knee. 

"What?" she says with alarm, tipping her legs to see what they're on about.

"Oh, for fuck's sake–"

She's gonna kill him.

There's two hickeys on the inside of her knee. One's a deep splotchy red, the other a little fainter, immediately bringing to mind yesterday when he had her nearly bent in half, her leg bent up over his shoulder, his lips right on that bruised spot as he fucked her deep–

Higgins gags again and she feels her cheeks warm, uncrossing her legs so he'll at least stop making her feel like she's going to vomit.

"Oh, stop it, Leslie," she admonishes. "How many kids do you have again?"

Keeley snorts as Leslie lifts his hands innocently, defending himself with, "Just happy to see living together is going well."

Keeley laughs and Rebecca huffs one as well, footsteps halting her response.

"Little bird told me there's new kits to check out?" Ted grins as he joins them. 

He's met with silence.

"Uh oh," he mutters, immediately catching on to the expectant looks Leslie and Keeley are sending between him and her.

"You're in trou-ble," Keeley sing-songs softly.

"What'd I do?"

His gaze lands on Rebecca and she eats her smile at his comically wide eyes, trying to glare at him. She shifts her hips, lifting her leg to display his own handiwork to him.

"Seriously?" she deadpans.

He takes it in, then lifts his eyes to hers when she settles in her seat. She can see him fighting a smile – and losing. His hand comes to rub over his chin, his cheeks rounding.

"Oh, boy. I'm sorry, boss, I forgot about that," he says. "I, uh, couldn't help myself."

"Well, a brief warning to wear trousers today would've been appreciated," she says, lifting a brow. "So I didn't give such a vivid picture of our sex life to poor Leslie."

"Right, I'm just gonna let you guys…" Higgins gestures with his hands as he heads for the door.

"Sorry, Higgins," Ted calls after him, then grimaces as Keeley giggles. 

"I didn't even think about it this morning, darlin'," he says, closing the distance to lean down and press a kiss to her cheek. "Sorry."

She shakes her head, letting her smile crack her face as she pulls him down to sit.

"It's fine. He'll live," she murmurs, smirking, leaning toward him. "It was worth it."

He grins as Keeley snorts next to her and Rebecca tries to refocus, turning to the tablet in Keeleys hands.

"Right. Anyway. Kits."

"So you guys are settling in just fine then, hmm?"

"I don't think I like this one," she says, pointedly ignoring Keeley's question, swiping to the next set of kits, trying to keep the grin from her face.

"Have you talked to Henry yet?" she calls from the closet. "About the move, staying here when he comes?"

"Yeah," he calls back from the bed, distracted as he types his scribbled notes into some kind of order on the laptop in front of him. 

"And he's okay with it?" Her voice becomes clearer and he looks up to see her poke her head around the corner. "You told him the flat is still an option if he's not comfortable here? Because we can always–"

"Rebecca, honey," he smiles, shaking his head a little bit. "He'll get used to it. It'll be fine."

She frowns at him. "I just don't want him to be–”

"I know, darlin', and I love that you want him to be so comfy here. But he will be. Don't stress about it."

She looks unsatisfied, but disappears into the closet again and he chuckles, going back to his notes until she reappears.

"Why did I even buy this?" she asks, coming back out – this time in a suit, black with white pinstripes in a dramatic silhouette. 

"Ooh," he says. 

She smooths the jacket, twisting as she looks down at herself. "I feel like I look like a 1920's American gangster."

"You got a fedora, don't you?" he says, chuckling when she shoots him a look. "I think you look sharp."

She hums noncommittally, turning to peek at herself in the mirror above the dresser.

"I don't think I like it."

"Then–" He clicks his tongue, gesturing across his neck with his hand. "Sleeping with the fishes."

She chuckles before disappearing back into the closet and a moment later the jacket, then pants coming flying out to land on the pile near the end of the bed.

He goes back to his notes in the interim, hearing her mutter to herself as she works her way through racks. It's doing some fluttery, warm little things to his belly, what she's working on right now.

"How about this one?"

He looks up when she comes out again and he immediately lets out a low whistle. She's in a cocktail dress now, deep, lovely burgundy, but with a v-shaped neckline. It's familiar, but not quite– 

He frowns slightly as he thinks aloud. "You have another one in that color, don't you? That's more–" He gestures in a square around his shoulders. 

Her brows knit as she glances back at the closet. "You know, I do…"

She goes back in and he shamelessly admires the curves of her as she goes. She comes back with another dress on a hanger, very similar to the one she's wearing. 

"Do I need two burgundy cocktail dresses?" she asks, glancing between it and the one on her body.

"It's a real, real good color on you, boss," he says, voice low, and she tosses him a smirk. 

"Which one?" she asks, holding it up, gesturing between. 

They've already gone back and forth twice about how it's up to her what she keeps and doesn't, but she insisted she asks him simply because she likes hearing his opinion, so he saves it. He leans forward, elbows on his knees and looks both dresses over. 

"Despite the fact that you're not really being fair to the one on the hanger right now," he says with a grin. "I gotta vote square one, 'cause I've seen that one at least twice and never seen the other one before, which makes me think it's less comfy or you don't enjoy it as much or something."

She smiles at that answer, then lifts a shoulder. 

"I don't dislike it," she says, smoothing a hand over it. "But I'm with you."

She wiggles the dress in her hand, decision made, and spins again. He sits back against the headboard as she goes back into the closet and he waits and watches this time for the dress to fly in and land on the mound.

Gosh, it's gotten big. He shakes his head at it a little bit.

"You know you don't have to do this," he reiterates. "I don't have a lot of clothes. I'm sure we could've made it fit."

"Yes, Ted, I do," she calls out, voice patient. "I already told you, love, I go through it all every few months anyway. I don't…I don't want to make you fit. I want to…make space for you."

His heart melts against his ribs a little bit, growing warm and soft in his chest. A smile pulls at his lips as he turns, quietly sliding off the bed.

"I don't want to just cram you into my space, I want to make it our space," she continues as he pads silently on the carpet into the closet. She's flipping through skirts on a lower rack now, in nothing but her humble mismatched bra and panties. "Because it is, and I don't want you to feel like it's not every bit as much yours as mine."

There's so many gaps in the closet. And he knows just how seriously she takes her appearance, how much she loves building her outfits, so her creating this space in here for him not just to claim but to fill, has him feeling so…so wanted.

"So yes, I can get rid of a few things I don't even ever wear–"

She stops and nearly jumps out of her skin when his hands land on the soft skin of her waist. 

"Oh! Jesus Christ–" she gasps, turning her head to look at him. "I swear to God, I'm going to put a bell on you."

"Kinky," he murmurs as he slides his hands around her waist, dropping his lips to the top of her shoulder. Her palms land warm on his arms and she melts back against him as he wraps her up.

"I think this is very necessary," she concludes, voice soft now with him close.

"It means a lot to me, Rebecca," he murmurs.

"I just know how it feels to move into someone else's space, no matter how much time you've spent there," she says. "I want you to be comfortable and at home here. And if you don't think you'll ever not feel like it's my house, then we'll find somewhere else. Together."

"Now that would be just silly," he mutters. "This is exactly what we'd be looking for if we did. Nice big house, big closet, fancy kitchen. Good spot. Already ticks all the boxes." 

"Then we'll move out and move back in," she says with a smile. "Start fresh."

He chuckles, squeezing her into his chest. She starts to shift her weight from foot to foot, pulling him along in a little sway.

She's being so…mindful. More so than he ever expected. She's not letting this change be a passive one, but actively and consciously finding ways to make it work and make it comfortable, for both of them.

And he's so grateful, because as happy and giddy and excited as he is to live with her, it is different. He's never moved into someone else's space before and trying to shift his thinking from he's at Rebecca's to he's at home has been tricky, even as comfortable as he feels here.

He imagined it would just take time, but with her pulling him into every corner of her space, it's gotten so easy.

"Plus, I know you love this house," he mutters.

"I do," she murmurs. "My first real breathing room in a long time. The first thing that felt like really mine."

He turns his head and brushes a kiss against her neck, knowing exactly how much that had to have meant to her.

"And now I want to share it with you."

He sighs deeply as the sentiment knits itself through his ribcage. He turns his head, closing his eyes and burying his nose in her hair. Breathing in the comforting, familiar scent of her just feeds the tenderness in him and he presses a kiss there, feeling her fingers squeeze his forearms around her middle. 

She starts to turn and he loosens his hold so she can, taking in the sweet expression on her face. Her arms loop over his shoulders, one of her hands playing with the short hair on the back of his head.

"But if you don't think it'll ever feel like home, I'll move in a heartbeat," she says, smiling softly.

He shakes his head, brushing his thumb against her lower back. "It does feel like home. And I like this house. I like being close to everything. And I love being on the Green. Lots of good memories around here.”

“I know,” she smiles, eyes glittering. “I like leaving every morning and seeing that spot where we sat and you flirted outrageously with me.”

He giggles a little at that. “I sorta did, didn’t I?”

“You told me you were imagining my legs wrapped around you.”

“I absolutely did not say that,” he says emphatically.

“More or less,” she chuckles.

“And you started it anyway,” he says. It's not often that she gets a blush out of him these days, but he can feel it now. “Wearing those shorts specifically to see me blush and stutter.”

She’s the one chuckling then, tightening her arms around his neck. She leans in, closing her lips over his and he hums with the gentle kiss. His hands pull her a little closer, fingers spread wide on her skin as she parts from him, smoothing her hand over his hair, muttering, "I had so much fun making you blush and stutter."

He chuckles, their noses brushing when he shakes his head. "You still make me blush and stutter."

She grins wide, clearly pleased to hear it. Her hands smooth down over his shoulders, flattening out on his chest.

"Now, I'm on a roll, and I think I can finish this tonight, and we can finally get you out of those boxes," she says. "So off you pop. You're distracting."

"I'm distracting?" he says, looking pointedly down at the rest of her, getting a giggle from her. 

"Yes, you," she says, giving him a little push, eyes twinkling.

"Sure," he says sarcastically, releasing her but not before dropping a tap on her ass that gets him a fond shake of the head.

The boxes actually barely make it back to the little room she'd cleared. Each time one arrives, it's a little like Christmas – for her more than him, he finds with amusement. She's eager to learn what she can, to know him even more than she does, and it's a feeling he holds very dear.

His things – many things he'd mostly forgotten about, things he never really expected to make a home here – begin to populate the house. They remap the closet to suit two. Silly sentimental things from his childhood land on bookshelves. Pictures of him, of Henry, of his family mingle with hers after being viewed with absolute delight on her end. It feels like a dual effort even, when she's finding her own old things tucked away to add to the mix.

It takes two or three deliveries before he realizes how carefully she watches him and his reactions to things, helping him to find homes for the things that clearly mean something to him, and it does tremendous, warm things to his heart, seeing the lengths she's going to to make this their home. 

When the last box of the last and largest delivery – three big boxes of mostly clothes he doesn't imagine he'll ever need unless they're traveling – is dispersed, he finds her contemplating the now completely empty little room.

"What should we do in here?" she asks him as he joins her.

He lifts his shoulders. The house pretty much has everything covered – kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, more than one family room. "I don't know. What do you wanna do with it?"

She eyes him, giving him a smile. "I think you should do whatever you like with it."

He returns her smile as he exhales, tilting his head at her. "Rebecca, honey, you don't have to–"

"No, come on," she says, stepping closer. "We could do another office for you. Little man cave. A little sitting room. Walk-in ice cream freezer. Anything your big heart desires."

"Anything?" He lifts his brows. "What if I want a big ball pit? Fill it with those colorful little plastic balls."

She huffs a laugh but he keeps going.

"Or I could just pack it full with cats. I love cats. Maybe I could start a little fresh fish market back here, you wouldn't mind that would you?" he teases, watching her give him an unimpressed look but with amusement in her eyes. "Oh! No, you know what? Free range ant colony."

"Are you done?" she says after a moment, a smile pulling at her lips.

"Kinky sex dungeon?" he suggests in a whisper.

That has her breaking, chuckling as her head falls forward. 

"I'm being serious," she says as she rolls her head back up. 

"Well, that makes one of us," he says as she steps closer, hands on her hips.

"Alright," she says, lifting her brows. "Then it's going to sit empty, sad and lonely until Henry gets here, and then if he decides he wants a free range ant colony, you've only yourself to blame."

She pats his chest as she leaves him in the empty room and he laughs, watching her go. 

He doesn't know what he would do with it. Living here with her already feels like living well beyond his own personal needs. But Henry…there's plenty of things he can think of that might make Henry feel at home here. And, oh, how he loves her for thinking of him.

Mornings have been so unremarkable since he moved to England. Waking up alone. Shower, dress. Breakfast for one and off to work.

At some point, maybe somewhere around laying in this bed, bouncing on his metaphorical heels and gazing at her lovely face, waiting for her to wake up, it started to become his favorite part of his day.

Every part of his routine is different. He doesn't wake up alone, he makes breakfast for two if not three, either showering or dressing is a tandem sport these days. 

And he loves it. He didn't know how much he missed coexisting until he had it back, didn't realize how much he loves having consistent company in someone he loves until it became a daily surety again. 

He's got those bookends he'd started to long for several months ago – he ends his day laying down next to the love of his life, and always with a little peace in his heart because he knows when he wakes, she'll still be right there next to him.

Like she is this morning, eyes green and light as she stares at him, a smile pulling at her lips.

"Good morning, handsome," she mutters.

A smile pinches his cheek as he stretches a little bit on his stomach. 

"Mornin'," he mumbles. "You been starin' at me?"

"Maybe," she says innocently, smile growing wider. She brings a hand up between them, brushing a fingertip against his lips, his mustache. "I'm still so pleasantly surprised waking up to your face every morning."

"Still?" he asks, lifting his brows.

"Keep waiting for it to grow commonplace," she muses thoughtfully, watching her finger trace the shape of his chin. 

"Mm," he hums, sighing as he pushes up to turn onto his side, scooting closer in the process. He lets his hand land on her thigh, pulling it up over his own before his fingers start to play, smoothing over her skin, dancing to her hem and back.

"Well, we might get used to it," he murmurs. "But it ain't ever gonna get old."

"Hmm-mm," she confirms, closing her eyes under his ministrations. And she looks exactly as content and happy and comfortable as he feels.  

"No," she repeats with a sigh. "I don't imagine it will."

Chapter Text

"Oh, he-llo," he says, looking over Beard's shoulder, feeling a smile spread across his lips. Beard's brows lift in question as he meets his eye again for a moment. 

"You should see the woman that just walked in here," he says in explanation, smiling wider as Beard tilts his head, shooting him a look. He just chuckles as his eyes find her again, holding his drink out to his friend. "Hold that for me?"

"What kind of wingman would I be if I didn't?" Beard muses as he takes it. Ted taps his shoulder and thanks him as he walks away, moving to the front door. 

He gets a smile as Rebecca spots him headed towards her, weaving through the crowd in the living room. Her eyes take him in, face changing just a bit in an expression he's very familiar with as she looks him over.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he says as he joins her. His hand slides over her waist, tilting up just a bit to press a kiss to her cheek as she chuckles. "You look…geez Louise, it's probably a good thing I got ready at the club after training. 'Cause I don't know that we woulda made it past the bedroom door."

She shakes her head, shooting him a look. 

He's not kidding – she looks incredible. Perfectly on theme with Keeley's black, white and gold color scheme slash dress code in a tight, just slightly shiny champagne gold dress that makes her look like she's wrapped in ribbon, criss-crossing over her bust, gold jewelry, even some sparkle in the pins holding her hair in a pretty twist. 

It doesn't ever seem to matter what she's wearing, she just always knocks him out. 

"Yes, we would've, because we told Keeley we'd be here," she says, eyes dropping, her hands landing on his chest, smoothing over his lapels. "Though, I'm not so certain seeing you in this."

Her hand smooths down the buttons of his collared shirt, eyes narrowing a bit. "Didn't you take a white shirt? And a tie? I didn't even know you had this."

He bites his lips for a moment as he nods. 

"Yeah, that's a bit of a story involving a juice box, my shoelaces and a source of lifelong entertainment for the rest of the coaching staff." 

He watches her face morph into amusement, trying to bite back a smile, eyes twinkling at him. 

He just chuckles, smoothing a hand over the black button down. "This is Roy's." 

"Well, you look like a fucking snack," she says, taking him in again. 

"Oh?" he says, tilting his head. "Then I guess it's lucky that he told me to just keep it since he apparently has about forty of 'em."

"Oh, he is such a good friend," she murmurs.

"You've been here for thirty seconds and you two are already canoodling?" Keeley says as she joins them. "There are other people here you know."

"Canoodling," he repeats. "What a great word. Canoodling."

The ladies just look at him with fond amusement as Beard joins them, extending Ted's beer out to him. "You lock it down?"

Ted gives him a sharp, conspiratorial nod, a smile teasing at his mouth as he takes his drink. Beard just snorts as he takes a pull from his own beer.

"What exactly did you lock down, Ted?" Rebecca asks, lifting a brow at him. 

He puts on his most innocent look. "Oh, nothing. Blonde bombshell walked in and I just couldn't help myself. Had to come talk to her."

She just shakes her head as Keeley giggles. "You two look fucking sexy together right now, I will say."

"You just think that 'cause he's dressed like me." Roy appears behind her with an amused smirk, his outfit almost twinning Ted's with just the addition of a black and gold tie. 

"That being said," he continues, taking them in. "She's right."

He feels himself blush a little bit but Rebecca grins, sliding an arm around his waist beneath his jacket. "You guys all look fantastic. Coach Beard might take the cake so far, though."

All eyes turn to him and he tips his hat – a top hat, naturally – to her. "Wore this shirt to my prom," he says nonchalantly, gesturing to the blinding gold button down that looks like I might be entirely made of glitter. 

"I believe it," she chuckles before she turns to Keeley. "Are we waiting for midnight on champagne or–?"

"You kidding? I've already had a bottle," she says. 

Rebecca drops a kiss on his cheek as Keeley slides her hand into Rebecca's and then pulls her towards the kitchen, leaving him with Beard and Roy. 

They rejoin the rest of the party, full of Richmond FC players, staff, their partners, Keeley and Roy's friends mixed in. He catches glimpses of Rebecca over the next half hour or so, tossing her a wink whenever he actually catches her eye, just because it still makes her grin.

She finds him again much later, dropping into the wide armchair next to him where he's laid back, watching a bunch of the boys play a drinking game he has completely lost track of the rules of.

"You're looking rosy," she says with a little smile, brushing a fingertip over his cheek. 

He lifts the champagne flute in his hand, returning her grin. "That'll be this. Makes my cheeks all fizzy."

She just chuckles, turning her attention to whatever is unfolding before them.

"What on earth are they doing?"

"Beats me," he says, shaking his head. They both watch Jamie try to argue his way out of drinking, Isaac just shaking his head until Jamie relents.

She turns to him again after she lets out a little amused noise at the boys. 

"There's a facet of my outfit I'd like to bring to your attention if I could," she says, smiling wickedly at him. 

"Ooh," he says. "Is it something that should be brought to my attention in a very crowded room? Is it gonna bring me to attention?"

She laughs a little bit. 

"Nothing too sexy," she says, then pulls her legs up, crossing her feet next to his on the ottoman. He watches the motion and immediately understands what she's drawing his attention to. It's subtle, but her legs have the tiniest little golden shimmer when the light hits them – one he's been glancing and wondering at all evening. 

"You know, it's funny to me that you think I didn't already notice," he says, grinning at her as he reaches out, his fingers landing just above her knee.

She chuckles, eyes glittering just as much as the rest of her.

"You turning into gold before my very eyes?" he asks, marveling a little as he strokes his fingers over her skin, feeling nothing but her. "What is that?"

"Just a body oil. Little extra shimmer," she says, shimmying her shoulders a bit, making him chuckle. 

He squeezes her knee, lifting his champagne to his lips as he shakes his head, murmuring, "'Nothing too sexy,' she says."

She giggles and moves closer, her side pressed to his, threading her arm under his elbow. He traces his eyes over the lines of her legs again before he meets her eye, letting out a deep sigh, fondness blooming in his chest.

"Just to you, you silly man," she says, squeezing his arm. 

"Just to me?" he chuckles with surprise. "In what universe? You wanna walk around and do a poll? 'Cause I promise you it ain't just me."

She gives him a wide, fond smile, all smile lines and carefree happiness, tilting her head. "Well, you're the only one I care about, so…"  

He gives her a soft smile, one corner of his mouth tugging up. He leans closer, tilting his head as she meets him halfway for a soft, sweet kiss. 

She gives him another whammy of a smile before he turns away as Keeley pops into the living room, announcing an hour to midnight. And that the next game on the docket is never have I ever, which has Rebecca groaning next to him. 

"She hates me."

Ted just chuckles, patting her leg, knowing how she despises the game because it gets her drunk with incredible speed.

"You've certainly lived a very full life," he says with a chuckle. "Or two or three lives maybe."

"Stupid game can go fuck itself. I'm not getting hammered tonight," she asserts, and he has to chuckle again. 

"Speak your truth, baby."

She does not, in fact, get hammered.

She mostly watches, sipping her champagne when someone has a good one she can drink to, giggling when Roy hits them all with a playfully pointed, "Never have I ever slept with my boss," that only Ted drinks to, shaking his head and tapping his glass against hers. 

She just enjoys being next to him, exchanging looks when someone surprises them, getting to relax with her brood without any stress for matches or club responsibilities.

The game becomes targeted and specific, the boys trying to embarrass and playfully one-up each other and she pushes off of Ted to stand with a wink and find some nibbles and refill her flute. 

The party shrinks a bit as they near midnight, many of Keeley's coworkers and friends venturing on to other parties before the year turns, or home to kids, leaving a house of people on her payroll. 

She does not get hammered. She does, however, get very tipsy.

At twenty 'til, she's wondering if Keeley and Roy have the thermostat set to 'hell' and has to step out back onto the patio, overheated and overstimulated. The glow of the party spills out into the yard, the music and conversation muffled but just present enough when she closes the sliding door. She takes a deep, chilly breath and steps a little further out.

The moon catches her eye, just a thin crescent, but shining beautifully in the clear dark sky, with just a few stars for company. It's a lovely night, if cold. But right now she's even grateful for that.

There's a satisfaction in turning over the new year this year, one that's not particularly familiar to her. She had a good year. She doesn't feel the dread of passing time the way she'd once been used to on this holiday, the loss of wasted time and the prospect of even more in the coming year.

Maybe because she's just…happy. Her hollows have been filled or aired out. The club has its stresses but is overall doing well. She's surrounded by people she adores and has the pleasure of loving a good man with her entire heart and getting the same back tenfold.

It feels like a truly satisfactory last hurrah to the year and to a holiday season that was just absolutely packed with joy.

She hears the patio door slide open again and turns to look, not knowing why she'd expect anyone but Ted.

"Hey," he says with a little smile, joining her out in the yard.

She looks him over, feeling so stupidly in love with him that all she can do is smile back. "Hello, my love."

She slides her arms over his shoulders as soon as he's in reach, his looping around her waist. "Whatcha doin' out here?"

She shrugs a shoulder. "Cooling off and taking a breath. Looking at the moon."

He looks up to take it in and she just watches him, tracing his profile with her eyes. 

"'S pretty," he murmurs, eyes falling to her again.

She nods, still smiling softly at him, tightening her arms around his neck. "You're pretty."

His eyes crinkle with his smile, warmth and fondness gleaming in them. "Oh, we gotta get you on champagne more often."

She chuckles a little at that, tilting her head. "That's not the champagne talking."

He just looks at her for a long moment, all his love written right there on his face.

"Thank you, sugar," he murmurs finally. "But it sure takes one to know one."

She giggles and he smiles as he takes her in, shaking his head. "You know, sometimes I look at you and I can't believe I get to hang out with you everyday. Kiss you. Every day. Just nuts."

"You get a lot more than kisses, Coach," she says, smiling wide.

"Oh, that's a whole other conversation," he says gravely, then smiles and steps back. He breaks her hold on him, taking her hands and holding them out wide to look at her. 

"Gosh, you are just radiant tonight," he says, sounding like he's been distracted from whatever he was planning to say. "Shining like the sun."

He drops one hand and lifts the other, stepping closer and guiding her into a little twirl. She laughs and he's smiling bright at her when she faces him again.

"Not too much gold?" she asks, glancing down at herself. "Thought maybe I overdid, then heard you in my head saying, 'Go big or go home.'" 

He grins at that, shaking his head as he looks her over. "No, baby, you're lovely. And actually…"

He gets a contemplative look, taking in the bracelets on her wrist, then the rings on her fingers.

"You know, this is just my opinion, but I think you could even stand a little more gold," he says, eyes twinkling as he glances up at her. 

Her brows come down in confusion. 

"Right here maybe." 

He brushes his thumb over her ring finger and her entire face goes slack, her breath hitching. 

Jesus Christ.

"Oh, you know what?" he says, lifting a finger as if he's just remembered and her heart is suddenly pounding in her chest. "I got something that might work."

She tries to say his name but she can barely manage to inhale, her brain sputtering as he reaches into his pocket. 

He pulls out a little black velvet box and she finally gets the word out with a breath. 

"Ted."

He pauses, still holding her left hand, looking up at her so sweetly, his thumb brushing the top of the box. 

"Yes, honey?"

She doesn't have anything to say. She doesn't have words. She just needed to say his name. 

"What are you doing?" is what she goes with.

"Well," he says, "I was thinkin' I'd just take a second and tell you just how unbelievably in love with you I am. And how excited I am everyday to spend the rest of my life with you. How vital you are to me and how badly I wanna make you happy, and then I was plannin' on askin' you if you might–"

"Ted," she repeats, not even knowing why she's stopped him again, her voice breaking a little bit. She feels like he knows, though, when he gives her his softest smile, holding up the box. 

"I have had this for weeks. Before Christmas. Before Henry was here. And I didn't have a plan, really. Wasn't sure if I wanted to just talk about it with you, or do the whole nine yards. Certainly wasn't planning on bringing it out tonight, but my God, sometimes you just make it so hard for me to not pull this puppy out," he lifts the box a little bit, his eyes shining gold even in the dim, soft lights off the patio, "and see if you might ever wanna marry me."

She watches him, his big brown eyes soft on her as his hand leaves hers and he pulls open the box. 

"Oh, shoot. Wrong one," he says before she even looks in it. And when she does, she barks out a laugh.

There's a square of biscuit sitting on the velvet inside.

He takes the chunk of shortbread and holds it like he's not sure what to do with it, then hands it to her and it immediately goes in her mouth. The familiar treat relaxes her a little as he snaps the box shut and pulls another from his other pocket, identical to the first.

"Here we go," he says, eyes twinkling as she just laughs at him again, shaking her head in disbelief. Not just at the fact that he's fucking proposing, but at the lengths he'll go to just to get the slightest giggle out of her.

He starts to open the second box, then closes it again. 

"Oh, kneeling! Hang on–” 

She reaches out and stops him, catching his arms as he starts to drop to one knee.

"Oh my God, stop," she chuckles. "Ted."

It almost takes her by surprise when he finally just smiles and snaps it open.

"Anything you wanna do, Rebecca," he says softly as she looks at the ring – a simple, elegant, gorgeous diamond flanked on either side with smaller ones on a fine gold band – before looking at him again. "If you wanna take it and think on it. If you wanna take it, wear it, maybe you slide it on and decide it just don't feel right, that's okay. Hell, if you want the ring but don't want the rest…that's okay, too. 'Cause, I mean…you got me either way."

She gazes at him as she catches up to all of that, shaking her head a bit, "My God, you really did worst case scenario this, didn't you?"

"Did you expect any less?" he asks, giving her a wry grin. 

"If you think I expected this at all…" she says, bringing her hands to her cheeks as she shakes her head a bit in wonder. 

He surprised her. They've been so in sync ever since they started dating and yet somehow he actually managed to surprise her.

"Fuck," she chuckles. "I love you."

"I love you too," he says immediately, smiling so tenderly at her it squeezes her heart.

"I do want to marry you," she says, the words leaping from her throat, but she means them far more than she might've expected.

"Do you?" His smile grows, cheeks rounding and dimpling.

"Yes, I do," she says around a laugh. 

She does. She wants him tied to her in every way possible, wants to see her ring on his finger, wants to call him her husband and mean it with a depth of feeling she never got to the last time she had one. Even though she signed her divorce papers with never again in her heart…she wants to marry him.

"Oh, boy. Okay," he whispers, sounding a little shocked, like he can't believe he just dared ask and had it go so well, his eyes shining as he looks at her, and that has her throwing her arms around his neck again. She squeezes him as he wraps her up in his arms and she soaks up his warmth. 

She lets out a sharp breath through her smile, almost a laugh, feeling him tighten his hold on her, burying his cold nose in her neck. 

Holy shit. 

She feels her eyes fill as she threads a hand through the hair at the back of his head, holding him to her. He shifts, pressing a kiss to her skin, then another one before she hears him clear his throat.

"Oh, Ted, love," she murmurs in his ear, squeezing him tighter. "Don't do that. If you start, I'll start."

He laughs, his voice thick with tears when he speaks. "Oh, I could've sworn this wasn't all that important to me but, damn, if it doesn't spin my heart around that you wanna do it."  

"I know," she says, because she understands him perfectly. "I know. But, shit, we might as well."

He chuckles at that and she joins him as he pulls back, and dammit, the sight of his big wet smiling eyes does have hers stinging harder. 

"It'll be fun to finally do it right," she says, her palms sliding around to his face, thumb wiping a tear from his round cheek. His hands land on her arms, the velvet box still tucked in one, before he looks down and pulls his hands from her, putting them behind him.

He sniffles a little as he pulls his jacket off and her brows come down. 

"What are you doing?"

"Goosebumps," he mumbles, swinging his jacket behind her and pulling it over her shoulders. She hadn't even felt the cold until she had his body-warmed jacket around her. 

She watches him as he smooths it over her, taking her in with a smile and shaking his head as he murmurs, "Shoot."

"What?" she asks, tucking her arms inside. 

"You still look just as good,” he says, red-rimmed, sparkling eyes lifting to hers.

"So do you," she chuckles. "You look sexy in shirtsleeves."

"Then you should see me without shirt or sleeve," he says, turning his head a little and lifting his eyebrows.

She laughs and leans into him, laying her head on his shoulder. His arms slip around her waist under the jacket, her arms pressed to his chest between them as he sighs. 

She rocks them a little bit side to side, taking a deep, deep breath, tucking her nose against his neck. His hands rub over her back, trying to ward off the chill, but she's hardly feeling it.

All she's feeling is him against her and nestled so deep in her heart she's pretty sure he's a part of her.

"You know, we could always go inside if we're cold," she suggests softly, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

"We could," he concedes. He turns his head and his warm lips brush against the skin beneath her ear. "But then we wouldn't be alone."

He makes a damn good argument. She lifts her head but stays in his arms, catching his lips with hers. She kisses him fervently but deliberately, nothing to rush, and he kisses her back just as intently. She slides her hands up his chest, her fingertips landing on his jaw as he grips her back, the ring nestled between his palm and her dress.

She separates and then comes right back, closing her lips over his again softly, then again before she speaks. 

"Now I'm thinking of all the ways I could've proposed to you and I'm sort of mad about it," she murmurs. 

He smiles and she drops a kiss on his mustache. "Nobody's stoppin' you."

He presses one more kiss to her lips before he tips his forehead against hers. 

"I love you so much, Rebecca," he exhales. 

The way he says it, like it's expanding inside him with no choice but to let it out lest he pop with it all has her biting her cheek, her brow tensing.

She nods against him, knowing if she speaks she will start crying and knowing she doesn't need to say it for him to know it. And she knows he does, she knows he hears it because he pulls away, tipping his head to press a long, tender kiss to her forehead.

She's so fucking lucky. Blessed. Honored. To have this and to have it…God, to have it with him.

"Do you, um, wanna wait to tell 'em all, or…?"

She lifts her head, answering, "Unless your goal is to find my body by the side of the road, I don't think we better even try to keep it from Keeley." 

"That is most certainly not my goal," he says, sliding his hands from her back and pulling the ring box open again. He pulls the ring out, sliding the box back into his pocket before he covers her hand with his on his chest. 

"Alright, gorgeous," he says, voice thick. "C'mere. Lemme get this on you before you get some sense in you."

She chuckles and yes, gets a little more watery watching him as he steps back a bit and flattens her hand between them. 

"This is the smartest decision I've ever made, actually," she says, trying for teasing, but she doesn't think it works. She's too affected, she means it too much for it to land as he leans down and presses a long kiss to her empty finger, then slides the ring on it.

"I know it's simple," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over the diamonds. "But I thought simple would go with anything else you wanna wear, you know, but I also thought we could go together if you want something more–"

"Ted," she chuckles in disbelief. He looks up at her with those big earnest brown eyes and she shakes her head. "It's beautiful. It's perfect."

It's…it's him. It's them. Simple, yes, but in a way of clarity, of honesty. 

He smiles at her and she feels like her heart is going to pop with its fullness. 

He's hers. Lord knows she's aware it doesn't automatically mean forever, but from the very first every single moment of being with Ted has been different from anything else she's known. And he wants to keep it. He cherishes this as much as she does and that reciprocity means everything to her.

Her breath shakes uncontrollably as she lets it out, her eyes stinging again, just…overwhelmed.

"Sweetheart," he whispers, his eyes softening as he reads her. His hand lifts from sandwiching hers, starting for her cheek, but stops when the patio door slides open again.

"What the fuck are you guys doing, it's almost midnight!" Keeley shouts from the door. 

Rebecca quickly catches her unspilled tears with the side of her finger as they turn to her, Ted's hand still holding hers.

"Oh, fuck," she says before either of them can answer, clocking Rebecca's state. "What's happened?"

Rebecca smiles, watching Keeley's glassy-eyed gaze find their hands. She steps towards them in three rapid steps and then she's nearly shrieking. 

"Oh my fucking God!”

She snatches Rebecca's left hand as she exchanges a twinkly look with Ted, both of them smiling wide, chuckling at Keeley before she throws herself into Rebecca's arms.

"Oh my God, babe, oh my God!"

She squeezes Keeley to her tightly before she rips away at another voice.

"The fuck is going on?" is grumbled insistently from the house and when she looks up, they're all there in the doorway, heads peeking to see. 

Keeley whips around with a smile and a wordless squeal, taking Rebecca's hand with her as if she's forgotten it's attached. Rebecca chuckles as she displays her left hand to their friends, their team, watching eyes widen. 

"He just popped the fucking question in my backyard!" Keeley says, apparently thrilled to have provided the venue. 

Mouths drop open – and then they're erupting, spilling out from the house and she hears Ted's laugh as they're completely overrun with footballers. She knows it means the world to him, maybe even more than it does her, to have had such vehement support from their team.

The excitement tempers the tenderness in her chest as congratulations start. Smiles pull her from the precipice of tears, laughing as the hoots from the team turn into a disorganized chant. She gets tugged into hugs and offered smiling tipsy well wishes, but the whole time, she stays within arm's reach of Ted, his hand making a familiar home on her lower back over his jacket.

"Wait, wait, wait, it's midnight!" someone calls out and then the high goes even higher. 

Drunken "Happy New Year!”s are shouted into the night and she turns to Ted, finding him pink-cheeked and smiling as she laughs. 

Ted. Her fiance.

"Happy New Year, sugar."

She meets him with a soft kiss amongst the chaos, feeling his hand slide further around her waist. 

"Happy New Year, my love," she murmurs.

"Oh, it sure will be," he says softly. 

His eyes are warm and so full of joy as he looks at her, she couldn't doubt it for a moment even if she tried.

He can hear her heartbeat under his ear. Its rhythm is steady and measured now – a far cry from the racing pound it was at when his head landed against her chest.

The plan was to be asleep by now, catching some sleep before they call Henry at six. But he just had to go and propose, which meant an extra hour at Keeley's celebrating, and then of course they fell into bed as soon as they got home with nothing even close to sleep on either of their minds.

No, they were thinking about each other. He was thinking about her, spending the rest of his life with her, pressing all his feelings for her into her skin with his lips and his hands, making sure she feels them. Experiencing that gorgeous loop of emotions, overwhelmed with how much and how well she loves him. 

Tonight they were not having sex to get each other off, pleasure for pleasure's sake. They weren't after orgasms exactly, but simply feeling as connected, as close, as tightly knit together as humanly possible, both absolutely spilling with their feelings.

Though…orgasms were most definitely not in short supply.

Hence the weight of both their bodies as they sink into the mattress, the room dim with the single bedside lamp they'd bothered to turn on.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, her exhale warming the crown of his head. Her fingers play in his hair, her other hand holding him to her, making intermittent sweeps across his shoulders. 

He feels…serene. It feels spectacular. 

She wants to marry him. After they both have tumbled through tumultuous divorces, she wants to venture out again. With him.  

At some point, someday soon, he'll be her husband.

Oh, it makes him feel absolutely silly.

"We can't do a garter toss," he muses, mumbling slightly with the heavy satisfaction in his bones. "I'll be hard the rest of the night."

It starts with a huff of a laugh against his head, evolving until she's snickering above him. He smiles against her sternum, soaking in the sound of her laughter. 

"I can't stand you," she says fondly, squeezing him as he laughs, rolling his head to press a kiss to her skin. "I don't really want to do a garter toss either way."

"Good," he mutters.

"What else?" she murmurs into his hair.

"Hmm?"

"What else are you imagining?"

"Mmm…I dunno. Something elegant, but small. Simple, pretty. Outside."

"Outside?"

"It doesn't have to be," he says, squeezing her to him. "Whatever you want, darlin'."

"I want us both to like it," she says. "And I like outside."

"Look at us," he sighs. "Already gettin' it figured out."

"Well, I don't have any particular desire to wait very long," she says plainly.

That has him smiling and pushing up onto an elbow to look at her, finding her smiling softly up at him. Her fingers continue to push through his hair, her other palm sinking down his arm. 

"No?"

"No," she mutters, looking him over. Her hand slides to the side of his face, her thumb mindlessly smoothing over his relaxed brow. 

"Once the season's over?" she suggests. 

"You wanna start planning it after the season's over or you wanna do it after the season's over?" 

"I wanna do it," she clarifies with a smile.

He grins at her, shaking his head excitedly. 

"Then let's do it."

She chuckles and then sighs deeply, wrapping her arms around him again, pulling him back down against her. 

"I'm sure Keeley already has a moodboard started," she murmurs. "Potential color palettes and flower arrangements. Linens and china."

"Writing our vows," he mumbles.

"No," she says abruptly. "Oh, please do not tell me you want us to write our own vows."

He lifts his head again with surprise, giving her an amused smile. 

"I mean. I was thinking about it."

"Ugh, of course you were," she says with defeat. "That is so not fair."

"What?" he chuckles.

"That is not fair," she reiterates. "Because you are so bloody eloquent, and I wouldn't have a clue how to write something genuine that I would actually be able to say in front of a hundred people. Or how to look you in the eye and listen to you say yours without becoming a blubbering fucking mess."

He chuckles, shaking his head, "Okay, well, we don't have to."

"If you want to do that, it has to be Runaway Bride style, just us and an officiant on a hill."

"Oh," he starts to smile. "With horses."

She closes her eyes, huffing a laugh as he chuckles. 

"I dunno how to ride a–"

She presses a finger to his lips, making a senseless noise as she stops him.  

"No, no, don't say it. Don't ruin Tex for me," she says, eyes twinkling.

He laughs, pressing a kiss to her finger before he shifts, dropping a kiss on her smile as well before he settles next to her.

"Mmkay," he says, settling against the pillow as she rolls to her side, bringing them close. "Traditional vows."

"I think we can find a little compromise," she murmurs.

"Okay," he smiles, pleased to hear it.

"Mostly 'cause now I need to hear them," she says, clearly thinking it over.

"No spoilers," he grins, getting a little huff from her.

"What else?" she asks, snuggling in. She tugs the covers up further and slides a hand over his side, tangling their legs together.

"Hmm," he hums quietly, settling in with her. "Close your eyes."

She complies immediately, trusting him without hesitation.

"We're gettin' married," he says. And, oh, those words taste good.

"Mmhmm," she hums, smiling a little bit.

"Tell me whatcha see," he murmurs.

"My Ted. With a big smile on his face. All dimples and crows feet and big brown eyes," she says immediately, her smile growing. "My little Henry in an adorable little suit."

He chuckles at that, heart feeling a little warm in his chest.

"Those are kind of givens, I think–"

"Shhshsh," she shushes him, clearly still building her vision.

"Okay, okay."

"Lots of light," she continues slowly. "White flowers with just a little blush to them, vibrant greenery. Champagne. Dancing."

He sees the bones of it as she describes it, coming to life in his mind, eagerly awaiting to actually come to life.

"Sounds lovely."

"The shortest wedding dress in wedding history," she adds, and he lets out a long suffering sigh as she grins, cracking an eye open.

"Woman–"

He doesn't even continue before she's laughing, eyes glittering at him.

"Oh, I won't, I won't," she assures him. "I want something long."

"Thank you for sparing me," he says gravely. 

"I'll save it for our wedding night," she winks and, oh, she just makes it too easy to get her back. 

"Ooh, good idea," he says. "It's guaranteed to be a special one, you know, with holding off 'til then."

"Holding off what?" she asks, frowning.

"Sex," he says, trying to make it sound obvious. 

He holds a straight face, watching her brows draw and eyes widen a bit, her mouth opening, then immediately closing. He starts to break when she looks so completely at a loss for how to respond, and when the corners of his mouth start to lift, she closes her eyes. 

"Ted Lasso, I swear to God," she huffs, swatting at his ass as she starts to grin. He jerks toward her with the contact, laughing as she shakes her head.

"C'mon, you handed it right to me," he chuckles. 

"You're so mean to me."

"As if we could actually resist for half the year."

She hums, intrigued with the idea now that it's posed as a challenge. 

"We could try," she murmurs, wiggling a little closer, giving him a soft little kiss. 

He savors it for a moment, then murmurs, "Would be like when we started dating."

"Oh, and that was so much fun," she murmurs back. 

He thinks of those days of playful, patient exploration, copping feels, her coming in her jeans on his lap before he'd even seen her naked. 

"It sure was," he grins. 

"But I would not last six months and you would not last five," she smirks.

"Oh, now you're talking big," he says. "'Cause I know for a fact I would last longer than you. And I know exactly what month and day you'd give."

"You do not," she says, pulling back to eye him. 

"February fourteenth it'd be over," he declares.

"Oh," she scoffs, half rolling her eyes. 

"Oh, you go ahead and scoff," he chuckles, pulling her a little closer, letting his eyes slide down her features, "but when I get to romancin' you, darlin', you react very generously and very reliably."

"I do not," she says stubbornly.

"No? Alright then. End of February," he issues.

"Not our wedding night, huh?" she smirks. "You don't think you could make it?" 

"Rebecca, honey, to be honest, I don't really want our wedding night to set a record for my fastest time," he says. "And if I keep my hands off you for a whole six months that's exactly what's gonna happen."

She bites back a smile, chuckling a little bit. "Alright. End of February."

"Alright," he smiles. 

She stares at him for a long moment, thoughts churning behind her eyes. 

"So we literally just got engaged and now we're suddenly not having sex for two months?" she asks like she's not sure how they ended up here.

He laughs a little bit, lifting his eyebrows. "You started it."

She sighs, giving him a look like she's exasperated at herself and he chuckles again. He watches her roll to her back, stretching to shut her little light off, then comes back to him in the dark.

"C'mere," he mumbles, pulling her against him. "If I ain't gonna have you naked against me for another eight weeks."

"Oh, you might have me naked against you," she mutters, tossing a leg over his hip. "You just won't be able to do anything about it."

"Oh, so you're gonna play dirty, huh?"

"Of course," she murmurs innocently.

"Alright, I see how it is," he mumbles, squeezing her to him. "Game on, baby."

"So was I wasted or did you two get engaged last night?" comes through the phone as soon as she puts it on speaker, as requested. 

"Oh, I have no doubt you were wasted," Rebecca says easily, winking at Ted along the island, getting a chuckle in return.

"Fine, true, but I distinctly remember five little diamonds," she says, and Rebecca can't help but splay her fingers off the side of her mug to see them. "And when I woke up this morning I had a Pinterest board open on my phone full of pink bouquets and sexy lace wedding gowns."

She rolls her eyes fondly. "As expected. You better remember me enlisting you as my maid of honor."

"Okay, thank God, because if I dreamt all that I was going to be so disappointed," she says with relief. 

Rebecca chuckles, sipping her tea with a mumbled, "Me too."

Ted shoots her another smile, pressing the plunger on the press and pouring himself some coffee. 

"You're not at the club right?" she asks. 

"No, we literally just got out of bed."

"Ooh," Keeley says suggestively. "All day in bed is the best way to celebrate."

"Oh, stop, we just slept late," she chuckles. "Because someone kept us up partying last night when we had a six AM phone call to make."

"Well, someone just had to get everyone all excited by proposing," she fires back.

"Oh, we gonna blame Ted, huh?" he chuckles. "For bein' too lovesick to resist? I see."

"Aw, wait, you didn't even plan on asking last night?"

"No, I did not," he says, looking at Rebecca as he answers, leaning on the counter next to her. "She was just too beautiful and bright and lovely for me to wait any longer."

She shakes her head at him a little bit, smiling at the twinkle in his eyes.

"Right, God, okay, I'm gonna hang up so you can have a go at him for that one," Keeley says.

Rebecca chuckles, shooting Ted a wry look that makes him grin.

"And I'll call you, maybe come over tonight 'cause I'm so excited to hear every single wedding idea you guys have."

"Sounds excellent," she says. 

They all exchange goodbyes and once she hangs up, Ted turns to her, eyes full of mischief over his mug as he sips his coffee.

"So…you gonna have a go at me?" he asks lightly.

"Not on your life," she says, chuckling when his eyes crease, a giggle emerging from him as he lowers his mug. 

"Mmhmm, alright," he says, straightening up and setting his mug next to her. "Then I'm gonna head out, since my mean old boss is making me go to work today."

"Oh, right, the same boss that already tried to convince you to play hooky for your afternoon coach's meeting and stay home all day?" she asks, giving him a look as he lays a hand on her back. 

"Yeah, her," he murmurs as he leans down and presses a long kiss to her lips. 

"You just made coffee," she argues when he pulls away. 

He kisses her one more time before he straightens again, giving her a smile. 

"Made that for you mostly," he says. "You made that face when you started drinkin' your tea."

"What face?" she asks, watching him slide his phone into his pocket, grabbing his folder of notes from the island.

"The one that usually means you're gonna drink half my coffee."

She tosses her head, smiling at the stupid little things he picks up on, but knowing he's right. 

"Go to work," she almost huffs, stupidly flustered by him as he starts to leave, trading her mug for his abandoned one.

"I'll see you later, darlin'," he says, clearly amused. "I love you."

"Love you, too," she calls out.

She sits in the quiet for a moment once he's gone. Maybe it's a good thing she's got a few hours to herself. She has some plotting to do, because she sure as shit isn't going two months without sleeping with him and she most definitely is not going to be the one to give.

And she's got her ways. 

Her phone buzzes and she pulls it closer, lifting the mug in her hands, mindlessly taking a sip as she opens her email.

The taste gives her pause – she's expecting Ted's overly sweet cinnamon roll creamer, more milk and sugar than coffee. She looks down at the mug – no milk, just a little sugar. How she likes it.

She shakes her head a little bit, letting her smile spread.

She's gonna marry that man.

Chapter Text

The problem, she thinks, is that she's forgotten how to be subtle. 

She never has to be with Ted anymore. Not really. And it always makes him smile when she's blatant in her desire for him, so she doesn't frequently find herself paring it down to the subtleties she used to employ to tease him. 

He, however, at some point, has mastered it. He pops up to her office in his little polos. He has a hand on her all the damn time, sliding over her back, her hip, her waist, her rear. He gives her once-overs with that little smile, tossing her winks in the middle of the pub, or the locker room, wherever he can get away with it. 

Simple little things he's pretty much always done that feel so pointed and intentional now in their game, even if she can't quite tell if it actually is intentional. Either way, as a result, her attempts to get him to break look like a blazing neon sign that says please fuck me with an arrow pointed right at her sex-deprived face. 

It's not working. 

It's driving her insane.

"Oh, you look fit today, my god," Keeley greets as Rebecca rounds her desk to take a couple bags from her full hands.

"Thanks," she says wryly. Keeley's not exactly the one she's trying to fire up with the tight emerald dress that's just this side of professional with its length and neckline. The problem is he knows her wardrobe too well, and she can't really surprise him enough with an outfit for it to get the reaction she wants – he's as appreciative as he always has been, but when she comes down in something a little shorter, a little tighter, he looks at her with that fond, amused, knowing smile that she knows means he sees right through her schemes. 

Neon sign.

"What's all this?" she asks.

"Lunch," Keeley says innocently, setting things down on the coffee table. 

"For the whole club?" Rebecca asks, lifting a brow.

"Is Ted busy?" she asks instead of answering.

"I imagine so, considering we're at work," she remarks, getting a look from Keeley.

"You're snippy today, huh?" she chuckles. "Hot."

Rebecca snorts, forcing herself to relax. At some point she'll probably explain to Keeley why exactly she's been so frustrated lately, but she hasn't yet and isn't going to right this minute.

"Sorry," she says, but Keeley waves it off, gesturing to the bags. 

"This is nibbles from three different local caterers," she says, giving her a little look. 

"Keeley–" she starts.

"I know, you don't want to go crazy with wedding stuff and also you're at work but," she says, lifting a finger, clearly having thought through her potential arguments, "we're just having lunch."

Rebecca smiles, shaking her head a little indulgently as Keeley adds, "We're multitasking. Two birds, one stone."

She chuckles, reaching out to squeeze Keeley's arm. 

"I'll go get him," she says, getting a smile of victory from Keeley before she turns to unpack the food. 

She goes downstairs, making a conscious choice to be quiet in her heels as she peeks into the manager's office.

Roy's working on something at his desk, Beard's got his nose in a book and Ted–

She bites her lips to not laugh as she watches him carefully place a wadded ball of paper on the precarious tower on his desk – including a bottle of water, his notebook, the eraser from the whiteboard, stapler and his – hopefully empty – Richmond mug, all carefully balanced in a stack.

She catches Beard's eye, seeing him smirk as he looks to Ted, distracted with his focus. 

"You know–" she says abruptly, making him jump out of his skin, his tower clattering loudly to his desk as he immediately starts righting things.

"–I came down to ask you if you were busy," she continues pointedly, smirking as he looks up. He smiles innocently at her as he folds his arms on the desk, cheeks pinking.

"'Course," he insists. "I'm always workin'. My mind never stops."

"Mmhmm," she hums, trying not to smile as he kisses his teeth and she lets him sweat for a long moment.

"Keeley brought us lunch," she tells him, unable to help smiling a little bit.

"Ooh, okay," he says, pushing to his feet. 

He follows her after an offer is made to and refused by the rest of the coaches, his hand landing on her back as they make their way to her office. 

"I think I already told ya, but good lord, you look sensational today, boss," he says, his voice low.

"You did already tell me," she says, giving him a smile as they climb the stairs. "And I reminded you I'm no longer accepting verbal compliments. Put your money where your mouth is, Coach."

He chuckles at that as she continues, gesturing to his lips, "Or rather, put your mouth where your mouth is."

He shoots her a twinkly little look and as soon as the door to her office closes behind them, his arm snakes around her waist, tugging her into him and stealing a kiss so abruptly that her hands float for a moment before landing on his arms.

It's chaste and short, aware of their audience, but in the state she's in, it lights a fire in her.

"That get my point across?" he asks a little breathlessly when he pulls away.

"Mmhmm," she hums, only just keeping it low enough to not come out as a whine, her eyes opening to find him grinning.

Oh, this isn't working.

She spins on her heel, finds Keeley grinning wide and decides she needs to up her game. Immediately.

She thinks he's winning. That's his saving grace right now, is just pretending he's cool as a cucumber, because Jesus Christ, she's killing him, but if she knows that, he's gonna crack like a glow stick. 

And he's having so much fun. 

She's got some kind of look in her eye and fire in her blood that draws him in like a moth. It's fascinating and undeniably arousing to see exactly what she thinks turns him on. 

Despite the weather, she's in dresses at work, shorts at the house, stretching her legs out like a carrot dangling in front of a bunny, brushing against him, low necklines and big smiles. After a week and a half of seeing her in the tightest and shortest of her work wardrobe, he's wondering whose idea this was and why, exactly, they thought it was the thing to do.

Because when he goes upstairs to see if she's ready to go, she's bent over the desk, reaching for something, and he almost snaps. Because she's perfect and the lighting is low and warm like it always is when she stays late and he wants her so bad he feels like a teenager.

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus and the grown one too," he says, watching her as she looks up at him. "You said you were gonna play dirty and I'm starting to believe you."

"You think I've been bent over the desk for an indeterminate amount of time waiting for you so you could get a shot down my dress?" she asks dryly, straightening up with her phone in hand. 

"I wouldn't put it past you."

"If you think that's playing dirty, you're going to have a rude awakening," she adds as he steps in further, dropping his backpack in a chair.

"I can't wait," he says as he rounds the desk, stepping up behind her as she slides her laptop into her bag. His hands land on her waist and circle her, enjoying the velvety texture of her dress beneath his palms, his lips falling to the curve of her neck and shoulder.

"You smell good," he mutters, breathing her in – most of her fragrances are familiar now, but this one is sweet and earthy with just a little warm spice. 

"Thank you," she says. "I'm trying to get laid."

He snickers into her neck at that, pulling her against him, her back flush with his front. 

"And smelling nice helps you do that, hmm?"

"It's working so far," she mutters as he kisses a line up to the soft skin beneath her ear.

He's too distracted for any kind of response, enjoying the suddenly forbidden feel of her skin under his lips. She hums a noise, leaning back into him and tipping her head to expose more of her neck to his mouth. He inhales deeply again as he kisses another path up her neck, landing behind her ear. 

"Smell so good, 'n your dress is so soft, skin's so warm…" he muses, mumbling against her skin. "Mmm. Got you in my arms and I don't think I wanna let you go." 

"Okay," she agrees easily – a little breathlessly, despite the fact that he's done little but kiss her neck. 

"So many possibilities in my head right now."

"That so?"

"Mmhmm." 

“Good ones?”

“Oh, yes,” he hums distractedly.

"Ted?" she breathes, her tone a little more no-nonsense.

"Hm?"

She turns her head enough to peek back at him from the corner of her eye.

"Are you going to bend me over this desk or not?"

The question and the images that follow inspire a huge rush of want and arousal, but considering the circumstances – in the office while it's still this early, when he saw more than one person on his way up here – it's not too hard to leave it be.

He brushes a kiss against the corner of her mouth with his answer.

"No."

She exhales sharply in a huff and he smiles, loosening his hold on her. He chuckles a little bit as she returns her attention to her purse.

"Fine," she pouts.

"Ain't even been two weeks, baby," he says, his hand sliding over her ass as he steps aside. "We've gone longer than that before."

She shoots him a look – amused, aroused, and annoyed, all in one.  He gives her a little tap before he steps away, not even needing to look to see all three emotions intensifying in her expression.

He doesn't have any kind of strategic plan, but he doesn't think he needs one. The odds of her lasting through the month are so slim, he's pretty sure all he's gotta do is wait her out.

But that means he has to actually…wait. 

He's good at restraint. 

He's a little less good at restraint when he knows they both want it so much. 

He's really bad at restraint when she comes in from the bathroom in her lingerie, arms already behind her and tugging her bra off. He can't help but sit up a little straighter where he's already lounging on the bed, watching her cross the bedroom in no more than her skimpy undies. 

It's not a rare sight, but it sure is one he doesn't intend to go unappreciated at the current moment. Especially considering the intention behind it when she eyes him deviously. 

His phone drops to his belly – it would simply be disrespectful to not give her his full attention.

"Something I can help you with, Coach Lasso?" she asks conversationally.

"Not at all," he says. "I'm very, very content. At peace, even." 

She pauses, turning to give him an almost comically wide smile. "Excellent."

He spectates as she pulls her last article of clothing off and it joins her bra in the hamper.

"Is it warm in here to you?"

"No," he says emphatically, already knowing what's about to happen. "No, it's not."

"I don't know, I'm rather warm tonight." 

She moves to the edge of the bed, sitting down and planting a hand on the other side of him. 

"Too warm for PJ's, I think," she muses, tilting her head and just watching him look at her. 

She's so full of it. He can see goosebumps rising on her skin, her nipples peaking in the air.

"Mmhmm," he hums, his palm landing on her side. "And in fifteen minutes when you're wrapped around me because you're cold, will you be getting up to put something on?"

"Of course not," she murmurs, smiling as his hand slides around her back. He pulls her forward with every ounce of his restraint, leaning closer to press a kiss to the center of her chest. His fingertips dance over her lower back, tracing invisible patterns.

"You think I won't be able to resist you like this, but have you considered that if I do, it means you're gonna have my hands on your skin all night?" he murmurs against her sternum, trailing up to her collarbone. 

"Um…"

"The sheets brushin' your skin, my hands on your hip, or your belly, or your thighs," he mumbles. "You gonna be able to sleep like that?" 

"Mm. Mmhmm," she assures him, sliding her fingers into his hair. They comb through gently and then are quickly tightening, gripping his hair and pulling him closer.

"Good."

He slides his arm all the way around her and grips her behind her knee, turning and heaving her over onto the bed next to him. It startles a laugh out of her as she lands on her back and he dots kisses over her neck and shoulder. 

"This is promising," she mutters to herself.

"Oh, I'm just gettin' us all snuggled in for bed."

She grunts with disappointment. 

"You're the most gorgeous woman on the planet," he says with unwavering surety. Because if there's one thing he's gonna do, it's make sure she feels just as adored and admired as when he was showing her with his body. "You know that?"

"Mm. And what are you going to do with the most gorgeous woman on the planet naked in bed and not only willing but asking beneath you?"

"I'm gonna give her a big, yummy goodnight kiss and hold her in my arms all night and smile when I wake up next to her in the morning," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the edge of her jaw. 

"How cruel you are," she says flatly.

He smiles and lifts up enough to catch her lips with his. 

It's a long, focused, lust-filled goodnight kiss. One that has his blood rushing, goosebumps rising beneath his hand on her hip, her lips moving against his. The kind of kiss that would most certainly lead to more – but tonight more is only her thigh lifting between his own and just barely toeing the line of intentionally starting something and ending their game right here.

She hums – maybe whines – when he finally pulls away, both of them a little breathless. 

He does exactly as promised.

"Okay, what is going on with you?" Keeley asks.

Rebecca huffs, trying to shake off her frustration with her fumbling hands as she picks up her dropped phone for the second time in as many minutes. 

"Nothing."

"You forget who you're talking to."

She focuses on finally finishing the text to Ted that she and Keeley were going to dinner tonight, not Thursday as originally planned before she drops her phone to the couch cushion. Intentionally this time.

"I need to get laid."

Keeley gives her an amused smile.

"I know just the man for the job."

Rebecca snorts.

"We can go out Thursday so you can go home and take your gaffer for a ride, I don't care," she adds, lifting her brows.

She lets out a long suffering sigh. 

"Uh oh," Keeley says, immediately starting to frown. "Did something happen? You guys aren't on the outs or anything, right? If wedding planning is getting between you two then we'll lay off it–"

She actually laughs at the thought, because they're both so casual about the wedding there's not even anything to argue about.

"No, it's not. We're fine," she assures her. "We just…we made a stupid bet. Or actually it's not even a bet, really, because there aren't any stakes, nobody gets anything for winning except bragging rights. Which, honestly, in hindsight it's hardly worth bragging about–"

"What are you talking about?" Keeley interrupts, clearly back to amused.

"He made a joke the night we got engaged about not having sex again until after we were married," she explains. "And we laughed about it and then he made it sound like a challenge and I just couldn't help myself, so now I can't think straight because I haven't shagged him since the first of the month and I can't get him to break because I will not be losing, but I also think I might actually die before we make it to the end of February."

Keeley's staring at her, lips tense and cheeks bunched before she bursts into laughter behind her hand. Rebecca glares at her, head tilted.

"I'm sorry," she says around her giggles. "But what the fuck, babe? You thought you could last two months?"

"Yes," she whines. "I've gone longer before!"

"Not in the last few years, you haven't."

"And I thought it'd be fun to tease him, except he's so unaffected, he's going to give me a goddamn complex," she says.

"I promise you he's not unaffected," Keeley chuckles. 

"Well, I'm going to need him to–"

She stops when her office door opens, turning to find Ted stepping in, backpack on his shoulder.

"Hey," she greets with surprise, not having expected to see him again until tonight. "I just texted you. We're going to dinner tonight instead."

"I know, I saw," he says as he steps to the edge of the sofa. "But I needed a li'l kiss on my way out."

"Okay," she chuckles as he plants a hand behind her and leans down. She tips her chin up and he kisses her, lingering long enough to almost take it to awkward for a goodbye kiss before he pulls away.

"Mmkay. I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you, too," she tells him, mildly entertained by him coming up here just to kiss her.

He sinks down for another before he straightens up, smiling and saying goodbye to Keeley on his way out.

"Have fun, ladies."

She looks even more amused now, grinning wide as she gives Rebecca a look.

"Yeah, I don't think he's unaffected," she chuckles. "He's just being Ted about it."

She smiles as she shakes her head fondly – she's right. And she wouldn't want him to be any other way about it.

"See, all he did was come kiss you and you look like you just had a full-body orgasm," Keeley giggles.

"He knows the kisses are keeping me at bay," she jokes wryly. "A little bit of mercy in my tortured times."

Keeley snorts at that, hooking her purse on her elbow as she stands.

"Come on," she says, waving Rebecca on. "Let's go get drunk and see if that inspires any new ideas."

She complies very readily.

And it does, in fact, inspire a sort of drunken epiphany.

She started parading herself in front of him almost immediately, trying to tempt him into giving. But maybe that's like the kisses for her. If he stopped kissing her and touching her completely, she would be done with this in an instant. So maybe if she stops satisfying even that tiny desire to see her…maybe he'll break.

Or maybe she's wasted.

Either way, by the time she's carefully and with great focus letting herself into the house, she's decided it's an excellent idea. One she's immediately distracted from when she finds Ted in the kitchen.

"Hey." He smiles at her and how could she possibly help returning it when he's this cute? "You have fun?"

"Yes, we did."

He catches her as she lands against him, her arms curling around his shoulders.

"Good," he chuckles, steadying her with ease.

"Can I have a kiss?" falls out of her mouth before the thought can get filtered in any way, shape, or form.

"Yes, darlin', you can have a kiss," he says, eyes twinkling as she catches his lips with her own. 

He's so sweet. She loves him so much. God help her, she wants him so much.

The kiss draws out longer and longer when she finds herself reluctant to part from him, though she's unfortunately uncoordinated at the moment. 

She's almost far gone enough to just say fuck it and pull him upstairs and into bed, desperate to get him naked and gasping and inside her.

"I miss your cock," she mumbles thoughtlessly when she pulls away.

He smiles wide, amusement creasing his eyes and dimpling his cheeks.

"I mean…you can see it if you want," he says. "Ain't much to look at at the moment really."

She laughs, loosening her hold and steadying herself on him as she finally fumbles her feet out of her heels, kicking them aside. 

"Silly man," she giggles. "You're always a whole awful lot to look at, Coach."

"Well, thank you."

"Love looking at you," she continues. "'Specially when you're naked. You're sexy."

He looks amused again, his hands squeezing her waist as he leans in, dropping a soft kiss on her lips.

"How many did you have, huh?" he asks, mouth moving to her jaw. 

"Too many," she mumbles, closing her eyes and tilting into his mouth.

"Then maybe it's a good time to tell you a secret," he murmurs beneath her ear.

"Uh-huh," she grunts, distracted with the sensation of his warm lips and mustache on her sensitive skin.

"You're absolutely killin' me," he mutters, squeezing her tighter against him. "With your tight dresses and your low necklines and your long legs. I want you so bad, baby."

Her breath shortens at the lust in his voice, her thighs clenching together.

"All I can think about is when I can finally be inside you again," he continues. "Whether I'm gonna go so slow and savor every inch of you until you're threatening my life or if I'm not gonna be able to resist just fucking you senseless…"

"Fuck," she whispers. God, she can feel herself getting wet and throbbing between her legs. "Thought you were planning on setting a new record for your fastest time?"

"Oh, probably," he chuckles in her ear. "But rest assured, sugar, I'll be spending a few hours between your gorgeous legs no matter what. Gotta hit all the stops after so long. Every single one. With whatever I can."

She whines with frustration, twisting her hands in his shirt and pulling. "You're not allowed to make me lose while I'm drunk."

"I wasn't trying to," he chuckles in her ear. Which doesn't help. "I'm just making sure you don't think I'm not missing you."

"That was too many negatives for me to comprehend," she mumbles, pulling at him until she can catch his lips again and sink her tongue into his mouth. 

He's hard. She can see it. He's clearly trying to act like he's not, as if she doesn't know exactly what the outline of his hard cock in his boxer briefs looks like. He's staring at his phone with focus so intent she's pretty sure he's not actually seeing anything at all and ignoring her so pointedly she knows he's extremely aware of her as she pulls off her clothes in the closet so she can shower.

She moves slowly. Because every time she peeks at him, he's watching her from the corner of his eye. 

This feels like her chance. This has to be it. Especially because it's so perfectly timed. 

She almost never wears tights. She digs out her sheer black ones on occasion to wear with one of her skirts, but the only real allure to them for her anymore is the way it pulls Ted's eye whenever she wears them. And she wore them today on a whim – an excellently timed whim.

She steps her foot up on the stool in the closet, knowing she's framed just so in the doorway for him to see her from the bed, and pushes her stocking down a little slower and with a little more finesse than she might normally.

She glances over when she tosses her stocking in the vague direction of the correct drawer and he's given up on being subtle entirely. He watches blatantly as she switches legs and repeats the process. Her goal is to appear unbothered, but ignoring the heat of his gaze and the heat it inspires in her is no simple feat. Normally at this point he'd already be between her legs.

"I'm going to hop in the shower," she says casually, moving to her nightstand under the guise of checking her phone. 

"Alrighty. Though I wouldn't recommend hopping. It's pretty slippery in there." 

He seems to be having difficulty meeting her eye and she tries not to smile. 

"Ted?" 

She finally gets his gaze on hers.

"Hmm?"

"You want to join me?" she offers with a tiny sultry grin.

It looks like it takes a Herculean effort when he slowly shakes his head.

"Hmm-mm."

"Just thought I'd ask," she sighs dramatically and his eyes drop again as she turns away from him.

"Wait, hang on."

She stops and spins. Please, for the love of God–

He sits up on his knees, walking on them to the edge of the bed. His hands land on her waist as he presses a kiss to her jaw.

"You ain't gettin' in the shower with all this on," he says, hands sliding down over the lace on her hips.

"No, I'm not."

"The hamper's in here," he mutters against her neck, where he seems to be breathing her in. She smiles, sliding her hands against his sides beneath his t-shirt.

"You're so observant this evening."

"I am doing lots of observing, yes. I would like to observe more, in fact."

"Mmm," she hums. "So you want a little strip tease, but what do I get in return, hmm?" 

"We bargaining with it now?"

"Apparently."

"My eternal love and devotion?" he offers, but she snorts. 

"You can't bargain with something that I already have," she says. He smiles against her skin, pressing another kiss to the top of her shoulder before he lifts his head. 

"I could always return the favor," he murmurs, pulling her hips against his. 

She takes a deep breath at feeling him hard against her.

"I have not been able to stop thinking about you all day," he admits plainly, sliding his hands to her lower back. 

She had a goal, plans, and it has all evaporated from her mind completely.

"You did say you missed him."

"If you take your boxers off right now, Ted," she murmurs, watching him intently, "I'm putting him in my mouth. So I'm getting in the shower."

She brushes a kiss against his lips and then tears herself from his embrace, her skin buzzing as she steps into the bathroom. 

She's going to lose. She feels so close to winning, but she's finally admitting to herself that she is so, so much closer to losing. 

She debates taking a cold shower to kill the tingling in her nerves, but can't bear denying herself the warmth right now. 

Instead of killing it, she satiates it. Her hand slides between her legs, immediately pressing at the center of all her tingling and throbbing. Her eyes close, her other palm pressing to the wall to steady herself.

She doesn't bother with pleasantries – she lives in a constant state of arousal these days and she's not in the mood to stand here all night. Her circles are hard and fast from the get-go and her breaths grow sharper as she steadily builds herself up. 

She bites down on her cheek, swallowing a noise as her pleasure grows, except – oh, maybe she shouldn't. When the next wash of sensation comes, she lets her whine leave her throat.

She knows from experience he can hear it from the bedroom, and maybe that's enough, enough to have him conceding to his arousal, enough to have him so desperate for her that he says fuck it, and steps into the shower behind her, not even hesitating before he slides his cock into her–

She cries out a little whimper at the thought, the image, the phantom feel of his hands on her hips.

"Oh, fuck," she moans, her fingers moving faster over her clit. 

She pants a "Goddammit, Ted," as she's forced to come by her own hand again, her pleasure breaking with another noise. Her orgasm rushes through her, shaking her legs and stealing her breath.  

She doesn't linger. She washes up and finishes her evening routine quickly. He didn't join her, but maybe he's out there waiting, maybe– 

He's asleep. 

When she steps back out into the bedroom, he's fucking asleep on top of the covers, lights still on. And she spies two tell-tale tissues on his nightstand beyond his blissful form.

She really just has to laugh. Because there's no sense letting this fun little game actually piss her off.

She snorts to herself as she shuts the lights off and gets ready for bed. The fondness she feels looking at him as he sleeps and the bit of satisfaction that he got off so fast just from listening to her tangles around her love for him and the relief of a decent orgasm and all of it just barely out-measures her frustration with his iron willpower. 

"You're infuriating," she mutters as she presses a goodnight kiss to his cheek, tucking herself into bed next to him.

She shifts again on the stool at the end of the island – for the third time in as many minutes – and he frowns as he catches the movement from the corner of his eye.

"You alright?"

She nods, but he knows her well enough to guess at what's wrong.

"Did you look at the links Keeley sent?" she asks before he can prod further. "The venues?"

"Yeah," he nods as he wipes the last of the mess from the counter. "Did you?"

"I did," she says around a biscuit. "And I'm starting to feel bad that she's quite literally doing everything. I haven't started looking at anything on my own."

"Nothing?" he asks, lifting his brows at her across the island. 

"No," she cringes a little bit. 

He narrows his eyes at her, teasing, "Are you sure you wanna get married or…?"

"Yes," she chuckles. "I'm just unexpectedly not…picky. It's going to be lovely regardless."

He smiles, rinsing and dying his hands at the sink before he turns back to her.

"I don't believe for a second you haven't looked at any dresses," he says. 

"I've looked at ones Keeley's found," she argues. "The problem in that case, actually, is that I know exactly what I want."

"Wait, really?" he grins. "What do you want?"

"Like I'm going to tell you," she says with a smile.

"Nothing?" he pleads. "Not even a hint?"

She shakes her head. "It's going to be a surprise."

"Fine," he pouts. "Why is it a problem that you know what you want?"

"Because that means I have to find something that matches the picture in my head and if I don't I'll be so sad," she says. 

"Oh, between you and Keeley, darlin', you'll find it," he assures her. 

"I hope so."

"At least tell me…hair up or down?"

"What?" she chuckles, eyeing him. "Why? Do you have a preference?" 

"'Course not," he says. "But if I'm gonna try and build our wedding in my head, it has to start with you. Gotta have something."

Her face softens a little bit, a smile pinching at the corner of her mouth. 

"Probably up," she concedes. "But it will depend on the dress."

That little piece of the image slides into place and he smiles. "Okay."

"What about you?" she asks, lifting her tea. "Are you looking at things?"

"Little bit," he says. "The fun stuff, not the arduous venues and officiants and chair rentals stuff."

"Oh, god, we have to find someone to do the deed, don't we?" she says as though it's just occured. 

"And a place to do it," he adds. 

"And a guest list," she muses. 

"And somewhere for them to sit."

"We're sort of slacking, aren't we?"

"Maybe," he chuckles. "Too distracted with trying to have sex with each other."

She snorts into her tea with a grin.

"Well, we got best man and maid of honor covered. Who else we want up there?"

"Do we…" She pauses a little uncertainly. "Do we have to do all that?"

"All what?" 

"Bridesmaids. Groomsmen," she says, lifting a shoulder. "I don't want to fill out a wedding party just to have it, when we'd rather keep it small and I really…I just want Keeley up there with me." 

"We can do whatever we want, boss," he tells her. "And you know what, I like that. Because I'm genuinely worried I'd end up with something like twenty-eight groomsmen."

She chuckles, eyes light and bright as their wedding takes a little more shape. 

"You can have Keeley with you and Beard with me. I do want Henry to have a part in it though. Even if maybe I just have one and a half best men or something."

"Yes," she nods. "He could do rings. Or rings and flowers both for that matter, if he wants. Stay up there with us for the rest."

He nods, smiling at the thought. He loves it already.

"Do you want someone to give you away?"

"Oh," she says, brows coming together. She clearly hasn't thought about it yet, almost startled by the question.

"Um…no," she says decidedly. "No, I don't."

He nods with a soft, "Alright."

"I don't need brought to you," she says simply. 

He smiles as he ponders that. She's joining with him of her own volition entirely and has no problem showing it.

“I, um…” she starts, picking at her biscuit a little bit. “I wrote some things down, also.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “What kind of things?”

“Vows? I think?”

His smile grows even more. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks as she glances up at him, almost looking – to his endless amusement – bashful about it. “I thought you didn't wanna do that?”

“I'm good at compromise,” she says primly, straightening up. “And I do have things I want to say, it's just…getting the words right. Which you're better at.”

“Do you want me to read it?”

“Oh my God, no,” she says so vehemently that he chuckles.

“You know you'll have to say it to me eventually, right?”

“Yes, and by then I'll have it right, and it'll be lovely and heartfelt, but I'll also have run through the words so many times in my head that I won't know what they mean anymore and therefore can say them out loud in front of people.” 

He stares at her for a moment, biting back a smile.

“The semantic satiation play,” he teases. “Good call.”

“Oh, be nice or I'll tear it up and forget about it.”

Oh, he can't let that happen. He's aching to know what she's got now.

“I will be so, so nice,” he swears, watching her smile at the gravity in his voice. 

“I'm just telling you so we can plan accordingly.” 

He nods, wondering aloud, "Should we be writing this down?" 

"Maybe," she chuckles. 

"How 'bout this weekend after the match, we take a day and sit down and get as much of it as we can figured out and set in stone?"

She nods, smiling as she pops the last of her biscuit into her mouth. 

He nods in confirmation, then leans and tips her biscuit tin towards him, peeking inside. 

The pink tin lives on the island, never actually undisturbed long enough to make it to a cupboard, and he does his best to keep it stocked. He doesn't really lament the fact that he doesn't need to bring them to her at work anymore, not when it feels so appropriate that now they're always here, for whenever she wants or needs some, freely supplied and freely taken. 

"Was that your last one?" he asks, watching nothing but crumbs roll along the bottom.

She nods and he starts to take it, but she makes a noise around the biscuit in her mouth, reaching for it. He watches with amusement as she taps the crumbs into the corner, then shakes them out onto her little plate before she hands it back to him. 

"I'll make some more," he chuckles as he taps the very last of the crumbs into the bin.

"It can wait 'til tomorrow," she mutters, collecting crumbs with her thumb. He's not so sure, watching her, but he nods. He'll do 'em first thing in the morning. "I have a different favor to ask." 

She looks up at him with a little bit of pleading in her eyes and a tiny glaze of discomfort.

"My back is killing me," she admits carefully with no surprise to him. 

He's nodding before she finishes speaking. "You want me to rub it for you?"

"Please?"

"Of course, sugar," he murmurs, holding out a hand, nodding toward the door.

They go up to the bedroom where she pulls her shirt off and lays down on the bed. He finds the oil she likes and then joins her, straddling her legs. He tries not to think about what they're typically doing when positioned like this, but it's no easy feat with how he's feeling lately. He gets some oil on his hands and then his hands on her, immediately going right for her lower back where he knows she gets tight.

"I don't even care if this is a trick, I miss touching you so much," he mutters, digging his thumbs into her muscles.

"Not a trick," she groans. 

"No, I know," he says. "I could tell you're stiff."

"Not trying to make you stiff," she mutters and he laughs. "Not now that I know that you're entirely content to get yourself off and go to sleep."

She shoots him a look from the corner of her eye and he smiles a little bit. 

"Oh, I knew I was gonna get in trouble for that," he mumbles.

She chuckles, closing her eyes as she relaxes even further.

"I've accepted my defeat," she sighs. "Now I'm just prolonging it as long as I can."

"That so?" he says with genuine surprise. "Wow."

"What?"

"And here I thought you were starting to taste your victory."

She looks back at him again, frowning.

"If I'm not trying to trick you, you're not allowed to play mind games."

"No mind games," he assures her. "I thought you were onto me."

"Not in the slightest," she murmurs, then winces as he finds a knot with his thumbs. He eases up, his focus returning to her back as he tries to work it out as gently as possible, still getting a pain-filled grunt from her.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I'm tryin' to be gentle."

"Mmhmm," she mumbles. "'S okay."

He continues to work her tight muscles out, working up her back once he's broken up the knot. She sighs as he slowly makes his way to her shoulders and he lets out a similar sigh, enjoying the feel of her warm skin under his hands.

He gets her loosened up, continuing his massage simply to keep touching her. He squeezes along her sides, fingers extended along her ribcage, not even trying to be subtle about brushing his fingertips over the sides of her breasts.

A smile pulls at her cheek and he can't help himself, bending down and pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades. She hums with pure contentment.

"What else can I do for you, my dear?"

"Oh, I have a list as long as my arm."

He smiles, lifting up as she rolls over, holding the sheet to her chest. She reaches up for him with a smile, catching his face as he leans back down. She kisses him softly and sweetly, closing her lips over his without urgency, and it's so nice he can't help but follow suit, no matter how bad he wants her lately.

He sinks down to an elbow, stretching a leg out and laying against her side, dropping kisses on her lips. She strokes his cheek as his hand lands on her bare side, fingers light on her skin. 

"Thank you, baby," she murmurs.

"Any better?"

"Yes," she confirms with a smile. "Eons better. What's it going to cost me, hmm?"

"Oh, I have a steep fee these days," he warns her. "It's gonna be lots and lots of kisses before you have that massage paid off."

She chuckles, looping her arms around his neck. 

"A debt you may be carrying for the rest of your life," he tells her solemnly.

"I'd better get on it then, hadn't I?" 

She pulls him back down to her lips and he savors her for a long moment as he slips a hand under her waist. He pulls her with him as he rolls to the side and he ends up with her on his chest, the sheet tangled around him from where it's still pressed between them.

He tucks his chin, glancing down at it as he takes the edge and starts to tug it out from between them. She just narrows her eyes – he knows she's probably working some kind of angle because she's never been anything close to modest around him since the first time they slept together and she's kept herself covered the last week or so. But she lets him pull it from between them until her bare chest is pressed to his t-shirt and even that modest view holds lots and lots of allure for him.

"There we go," he mutters. "I see you hidin' from me."

"And I see you trying to steal a peek," she mutters. 

He only hums, lifting his gaze to hers again. 

"No free shows, sir."

He smiles. 

"I'm just sayin', all those kisses owed?” he offers, flicking his wrist. “Done. Off the books."

"All of them?" she says with intrigue. "Hmm."

"Pretty good deal, I think," he says.

She thinks it over, pursing her lips against a little smile until he can practically see the moment she thinks fuck it. She sits up slowly, her hands sliding down his chest as she straightens to a seat on his abdomen.

He inhales slowly and deeply as his gaze falls all the way down her torso, his hands squeezing at her satin-covered thighs on either side of him. She's smiling wide when his eyes finally travel back up, and he pulls, sliding her a little further up his chest.

"Satisfied?" she asks, lifting a brow.

"Absolutely not," he murmurs, watching her push her hair back off her face. His blood was already rushing from having his hands on her, and now it's rushing straight to his groin, his fingers squeezing again to try and allay all this want. "You?"

"Absolutely," she says easily, trying to appear unaffected.

He starts to smile because he knows differently.

"Are you?"

"Of course," she says, her hands moving slowly over his chest.

"Rebecca, honey?" he grins.

"Hmm?"

"Darlin’, I can smell you."

"Oh my God," she says, making a face as she tries to slide back away from him. 

He chuckles, gripping her thighs to stop her.

"Where you goin', huh?"

"That's not something I want to hear."

"You think I don't also smell you when I'm goin' down on you?" he chuckles. "Baby, I can tell you your Ph balance just with my nose."

"Oh my God," she repeats, trying to pull out of his grasp completely. 

"What?" he chuckles.

"Thank you for thoroughly killing any arousal I may or may not have been feeling."

He snickers again, pulling her back down against him, wrapping his arms around her. She squirms but smiles and he buries his face in her neck, breathing in deeply.

"Oh, stop. I love every way you smell. It's sexy when I know you're turned on just from that," he mumbles.

Her very mature and vengeful response is to blow a raspberry against his neck and he immediately tucks his chin, laughing as he pulls away. She snickers and it turns into a cackle when he enacts retribution, sliding his hand from her back to brush his fingers along her ribcage at her side. She jerks to the side to get away, but he follows, rolling with her until she's on her back again.

If she wasn't trying to get him hard, laughing in his ear topless really wasn't the thing to do.

"Don't," she laughs, shoving his hand away. It drops to her thigh as he giggles into her neck, hitching her leg up on his side. 

It pulls them tighter together, and he shifts to get an elbow under him, relishing the pressure of them together. In fact, he enjoys it so much he almost misses the way her breath catches. 

Her eyes are bright when he looks down at her, squeezing her thigh as she smirks.

"Watch yourself, Coach."

"What, you think I'm gonna break right here, just because we're rollin’ around in bed and you're so beautiful and topless and I got your legs around me and I know that you're wet and that I could get right against your most sensitive nerves like this?"

"Is that all?" she chuckles.

"I hadn't even thought of it," he says, knowing she won't believe him one bit. "Get your mind outta the gutter."

She laughs beneath him.

"I have to say, Ted, I really didn't expect you to have so much willpower," she says as her hands slip under his t-shirt at his back. 

"Me either," he mutters. "I thought we'd be long done by now, but here we are, a few days shy of halfway."

"We do like a little anticipation, don't we?" she says, dropping her voice a little bit. "Next thing you know we'll be adding on that we can edge each other but that's all."

He blinks at her.

He doesn't even want to touch that one, knowing it's one wrong word away from coming true. 

"Why would you say that?" he asks flatly. "Why?"

She laughs again, pushing at his shoulder until he rolls again. 

"Because I wanted to see your face," she chuckles as she catches his lips, kissing him deeply and thoroughly before she climbs off him and the bed completely. 

"Thank you for the massage, love," she says as she walks away, through the closet to the bathroom, hips swaying all the way.

When she's out of sight, he lets out a long, slow deep breath, sagging against the bed with a quiet, "Hooo, man," feeling his blood thrumming like she had been edging him.

Wedding planning isn't like she remembers. She's quite certain she can attribute the difference to lots of things – her groom and her own mindset mostly. This time around quite literally all she wants is to have a good time and celebrate. They're going for substance over style, whatever makes them happy, whatever's going to be the easiest on them and their guests. No society wedding bullshit, no publicity, no one to please or impress. It makes it feel so much simpler. 

Which is nice, because she's got something pressing and rather distracting on her mind and it's ballooning day by day.

It's ready to pop tonight. They're all buzzing with a win on the road, but every single time she catches Ted's eye, all the way from leaving the pitch to here at the bar, his gaze is positively searing.

They've created some kind of Pavlovian response for themselves – they always very thoroughly celebrate an away win, especially when it's an overnight stay. Abstaining tonight when they're this high on such a crushing win feels impossible – it's always so good, and missing that tipsy, sloppy, victorious hotel sex feels like such a wasted opportunity. 

He knows it too. She can tell just from the way he's looking at her. 

Goddammit, she wants to blow him. She always feels the urge with a win like this and he always thinks she's kidding or making some kind of tongue in cheek joke when she does, but in truth she just cannot help herself.

She's at the end of her rope, frankly.

She braces herself when he crosses the dim, noisy club, dropping into the booth next to her.

“You gonna have another?” he leans over to ask, tapping the glass holding the last few sips of her drink.

“I don't think so,” she murmurs, smiling a little bit as she adds, “I can't help but notice you're avoiding me tonight.”

“I wouldn't say avoiding you, necessarily,” he says diplomatically. “But I see you lookin’ at me.”

She bites back a grin as he continues, “And I know you start emitting some very dangerous pheromones post-win and I'm trying to keep this party PG.”

She laughs and he grins, eyes bright. 

“Pheromones?! Like I'm some kind of rodent or…what animals have pheromones?”

“I dunno, boar?”

Her eyebrows lift slowly at that. “Boar?”

“What?” he laughs. “I don't know. Do I look like a zoologist?”

She tilts her head, looking him over. “You sort of do, actually. I would believe it.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Either way, I feel like I'm gonna end up coming out of this night covered in scratch marks and lipstick smudges with a dazed look on my face.”

“And would that be so bad?” 

“Oh, honey, I dream about being in that state,” he says emphatically. 

She giggles again, feeling positively giddy tonight. 

“And it's my favorite look on you,” she says as she leans closer, sucking a soft, sensual kiss against his bottom lip.

He grunts as she pulls back.

“I came over to see if you were ready to call it a night–”

“And you ended up comparing me to a wild pig.”

”–and I ended up comparing you to a wild pig. So I guess I'll just take myself back to my room alone–”

He starts to turn away and rise and she pulls him back with a smile.

“Don't you dare,” she chuckles. “Yes, I'm ready to call it a night. Before my pheromones become a problem for anyone.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “Means I'm gonna successfully get you alone. Ann and Nancy Wilson would be so proud of me.”

She snickers as he drops another kiss on her lips.

“Let's blow this popsicle stand.”

They make their goodbyes to the rest of the crowd still at the bar and it's a blessedly short walk from there to the hotel. Just a couple of blocks of cool night air, walking hand in hand.

Of course there are zero whole seconds between the door to her room closing behind them and him pressing her against the door. Not that she's complaining. She doesn't think she can take much more of this. One grind of his hips where she can feel him hard in his khakis has her so completely ready to be done.

From the way he kisses her, she thinks he might be too.

“What are we doing, huh?” he mumbles against her neck.

“Pretending we're not in the midst of our little competition,” she breathes, sinking her fingers into his hair. 

“Seems like we're setting ourselves up for a big let down,” he mutters.

“Only if either of us still cares about winning,” she says. “Though this would be a rather anticlimactic way to end, I suppose.”

“Does it need to be climactic?”

She barks out a laugh.

“If this is going to end right here and now, there better be a climax.”

He snickers against her collarbone as his hand sinks down her leg, pulling her knee to his hip when he straightens up. 

“Is it?” he murmurs, meeting her eye. “Ending right here and now?”

She pauses at the seriousness of the question, eyes bouncing between his.

“Is it?” she asks right back. 

She tightens her leg around his hip. 

“I don't know,” he says, pressing harder against her. “Do you still care about winning?”

She starts to smile. “Do you?”

“I asked you first.”

She lets her head thunk back against the door with exasperation and he laughs again.

“Are we going to stand here all night not answering each other's questions or are we going to have sex?” she asks plainly, surprised by the immediacy of his answer.

“The second one.”

She lets out a sharp noise, laughing as he yanks her away from the door. 

It's 3:17am when he finally drops into bed next to her – finally for the purpose of sleeping. She knows that because she's still on her stomach, staring absentmindedly at the clock. Satisfaction has her liquid against the bed, her muscles numb with exertion, her nerves alive, blood feeling fresh and new and she can't stop grinning against the pillow. 

“Done with that then, huh?” he says, somehow still sounding out of breath, despite a half hour of post-coital lazing and a trip to the loo.

”I think we could've probably called it when you were masturbating to the sounds of me masturbating,” she mumbles and he chuckles.

“Probably.”

She grins wider with that concession, sing-songing, “Which means you lost.”

“Oh, whatever,” he laughs. 

“I lost too, though, honestly, because if that's the case it means we could've been having sex for like a week now.”

“So we can go a month without having sex,” he concludes. “I don't know why we needed this information. But we have it now.”

“I have no idea,” she mutters.

“This was your idea,” he reminds her.

“Love, I don't know my own name right now,” she mumbles. “Don't make me try and remember what the point was.”

He chuckles as he rolls towards her, snuggling up close against her side. She smiles, folding her arm between them so he can get nose to nose. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs needlessly, sliding an arm over her back. “I ain't got enough of you yet.”

She giggles a little as they tangle together. He looks so relaxed, blissed beyond belief and she smiles at the contrast she's seen in him tonight. 

She's not sure she's ever seen him give himself over to his desire so fully. To just surrender to it and stop thinking. He was almost selfish, except him fulfilling his own desires just naturally includes fulfilling her desires and it was just glorious. Needless to say, she hopes it sticks and she sees it again.

Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. 

“Thank God that's over,” she sighs, surprised when he bursts with a laugh. 

“Just what everyone wants to hear after they've just had sex,” he says, his brown eyes glittering as she laughs with him. 

“You know what I mean,” she chuckles. “Thank God I don't have to go any longer without you.”

“Question is, was it worth it?”

Oh, it was, somehow. Especially if she's finally unlocked a little more abandon in him. 

“You tell me,” she insists curiously.

“I had fun,” he says, sighing with sleepy satisfaction. “Yeah.”

She smiles as she watches his eyes close. 

“Did I wear you out?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums. “Sleepy.”

“Me too,” she murmurs. She rolls to shut off the last light glowing on her nightstand and then comes right back to him, pressing close. He hums as they settle, her leg hitching over him.

“Mm, I missed you,” he mumbles. “I tell you that?”

“Only a dozen or so times,” she smiles.

“Well, I like a baker's dozen. Gotta have just one more.”

It shouldn't surprise him really, when he wakes with a warm thrum of arousal in him. He's never had such frequent and regular sex in his life as he has in the years he's been with Rebecca, so his body is more than pleased to see the end of this celibacy thing they started. And she's warm and nude in his arms and her skin’s so soft that it only takes a slide of his palm against her side and a soft inhale at her neck to have that little morning arousal growing.

No matter that they spent hours last night trying to make up for the past month. His body doesn't seem to care, no matter how tight his muscles are.

He kisses the top of her shoulder and lets his hand slide over her skin, smoothing over her belly and up her chest beneath the covers. He snuggles a little closer against her back, holding the weight of her breast in his hand, gliding his thumb over her nipple.

She's encouraged him more than once to wake her this way, and while he doesn't make a habit of it, it's a little impossible to resist this morning. Especially when she hums a noise as she wakes, slowly gliding her palm along his arm to rest over his hand on her breast. 

She rumbles a bit as she wakes, snuggling back tighter against him. He noses into her hair to press a kiss higher on her neck.

“I see you're keeping occupied,” she mumbles, her voice low in the quiet morning.

He hums in response. 

“I told you I ain't got enough of you.”

“Well, we can't have that,” she murmurs. “Be gentle with me, Coach, I had a wild night.”

“Oh, always,” he mumbles against her skin. His hand continues to wander on its own accord, taking hers along for the ride as it moves over her chest, reacquainting his fingers with that soft skin.

He takes his time before his touch slides south. She shifts, opening to him, and he finds her warm and wet, his fingers taking up a slow and gentle massage against her sensitive flesh. She lets out a contented little hum with the contact and his cock twitches with want.

“I had an idea,” he tells her.

“Seems like you're full of them this morning,” she answers, grinding back against him a little bit. 

He presses a smile to her shoulder.

“We should stay,” he offers.

“Stay where?” she asks, sounding just a little distracted. 

“Stay here,” he says. “For the morning. Let the boys take the bus back, get a car and drive back in our own time. Just you and me.”

He can hear her smile in her voice when she says, “We can do that.”

“Oh, goodie,” he mutters. “I'm hoarding you for myself today.”

Her response is delayed when he shifts his hand and slides two fingers into her. She lets out a high little noise, squeezing his fingers as he finds that spot inside her. His blood rushes and cock aches to get inside her, but he grins against her skin.

“I swear sometimes I think you're gonna break my fingers.”

She chuckles, doing it again, and he can't help but let out a little moan, grinding himself against her. She reaches back, getting a hand between them to stroke his cock and he lets out another noise.

“Goodness me,” she murmurs. “What were you dreaming about that's got you so hot this morning?”

His hand leaves her when she puts him right at her entrance, the searing heat of her against the head of his cock stealing his breath.

“You, baby,” he breathes mindlessly as he sinks into her, pressing as deep as he can like this. “Always you. How gorgeous you are and how much I love you and how utterly perfect your pussy is.”

She lets out a noise that's half amusement and half pleasure, turning her head toward him.

“Did you miss my pussy, baby?” she exhales.

“Oh, Christ, yes,” he groans against her cheek, tightening his grip on her hip.

She rolls her pelvis back for even more, clenching around him, and he suppresses the urge to drive himself into her. 

Slow, he reminds himself. She said gentle.

The hum that rolls out of her is dripping with satisfaction and he slows down even more hearing it, savoring every wet inch of her, every pleasured noise she lets out.

It's delicious. Just a little bit lazy with how tired and sore they both are, but he said he was gonna hit all the stops, and morning sex is one that he has sorely missed.

“Ted,” she exhaless with a little urgency. “More.”

“You said to be–”

“I don't give a fuck what I said,” she moans as he slides into her again. 

Well.

His body doesn't need any further encouragement. She pulls at him again as she rolls onto her front and he follows without hesitation, holding himself over her.

“Mmm, fuck,” she groans with his first thrust and with that he's lost. He brushes her hair to the side so his mouth can land on her skin as he lets go. He chases his pleasure with her very vocal encouragement, sliding a hand beneath her to turn up the volume a little bit.

She comes with deep shudders and cut-off cries, gripping a pillow like her life depends on it and he doesn't bother holding back, letting the rush of his orgasm crest with hers. He groans into her neck, pulling her tight against him and surging deep inside her, tensing and trembling as it breaks over him.

“Good morning,” he pants against her shoulder when he finally relaxes. He drops lazy kisses against her skin as he shifts so he's not completely on top of her. 

She chuckles, smiling big against the bed as her eyes open, bright and deeply content this morning, and how lovely she is just hits him right in the chest for maybe the millionth time.

“Hi,” she sighs, her gaze moving over his face.

“Hi,” he smiles.

“What?” she asks, grinning wider at his expression.

“Nothin’,” he says, his own smile growing.

“Don't nothin’ me.”

He giggles at her mimicking his accent, closing the small distance to kiss her. She smiles against his lips, her hand rising between them to brush her fingers against his chin.

“I love you,” he mutters. “So much. It's just ridiculous.”

“I love you, too,” she mumbles, nipping at his lip before he flops onto his back with a deep, deep sigh.

“I feel like you've put me back together again.” 

She huffs a laugh, pushing to sit up.

“I didn't know you were in pieces.”

“So many pieces.”

He pushes up onto an elbow, watching her rise and do one big stretch with a deep groan before she moves to pull her robe from the chair and pull it on. He admires her shamelessly as she does and grins a little at the constellation of love bites all over her skin, each one marking a part of her that his hands and lips missed too much to resist. He knows without seeing that there's a flock of them dotting her thighs.

He hasn't missed the ones on his own chest, either, so much darker on his more sensitive skin. He never minds. He likes it – especially when they end up with matching sets, marked for each other like this.  

“C’mon,” she says, smacking at his foot as she passes with that persistent smile. “Let's let them know they're on their own and then find a car.”

He smiles at the thought of driving back alone with her, mentally high-fiving himself for that spur-of-the-moment idea.

“Showers first though.”

“Uh, I think you mean shower. Singular,” he corrects.

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Yes, ma'am,” he says patiently as he rises. “I have a moment from the last few weeks I promptly need to revisit.”

She snorts as she makes her way to the bathroom and he follows dutifully.

“If that's what we're doing, Ted, you're going to be a very busy man this month,” she says, turning to look him up and down. “I have dozens of moments to revisit.”

She turns back, flipping on the shower, and by the end of the day, he's pretty sure the sorest thing on him is gonna be his cheeks from all this grinning.