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English
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Part 4 of the bits and bobs
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Published:
2025-04-16
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3,150
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1/1
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37
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like one of the family

Summary:

it was the fragrant spices wafting into the house from next door that brought her to Ted Lasso's door.

Notes:

happy birthday to b. since these are just some of her favourite tropes i use, why not use them for good. i hope you've had a lovely birthday, my friend!

Work Text:

There’s a knock on the door loud enough that if he wasn’t in London, he would think he was in some sort of raid scene in a cop-based drama. He raises a curious brow as he wipes his hands off on the towel flung over his shoulder and walks towards the front door with cautious steps. He’s been assured his permanent residency is in order so it shouldn’t be Home Office, and he’s pretty sure he’s not important enough to be on MI-5 or MI-6’s radar. However, he unlocks and opens the door slowly and can’t help the surprised look that appears on his face as he finds the knock not fitting the sight in front of him.

The blonde in front of him would probably make for a great undercover cop. And he’s not sure why he’s stuck on the cop motif in his head. He certainly didn’t picture this woman to be capable of knocking like a SWAT team raider.

“Hello,” Ted greets the woman, finally finding his manners.

“Hiya,” the woman grins, a little sheepish. “I’m Keeley Jones. We just moved in next door.”

Her high ponytail whips towards him as she shifts her head to the left of the house. Her arm comes up like a directional signage, just in case he can’t follow her line of sight, to where a hired crew is still moving boxes from a moving truck.

“You’re not kidding about the ‘just’ bit,” Ted chuckles. “I’m Ted. Ted Lasso.”

There’s a curious meow and Ted looks down. 

“And this here is Mr Jinx. Sort of a play on Jeeves, since the little fella always answers the door or awaits package deliveries like a little butler. Quiet as a mouse unless he wants food or there’s something at the door.”

“Oh, christ. He’s so fluffy. I bet he feels like a cloud.” Keeley watches the long-haired tuxedo cat sit at Ted’s side rather than escape out the door like she assumes all animals do.

“He does,” Ted nods. “And he does love a brush. Comes running for it as soon as you hold it up.”

Keeley nods and her eyes turn back to Ted’s, finding his open and curious.

“What can I do for you, Ms Keeley Jones?”

Keeley produces a paper plate and plastic fork from her coat pocket as her cheeks pink.

“I hate to be that pregnant lady and weird neighbour, but I smelled whatever you’ve made for lunch and this one won’t stop kicking my insides. So, I think he wants some of whatever you have, like it's some sort of craving, even though I’ve only craved these really horrible banana and mango smoothie bowls with a ton of coconut flakes and strawberry ice cream. Any other day, I hate coconut flakes. Blech.”

Ted’s eyebrows raise. He’s certainly never met a Brit that’s so… outgoing and free-flowing with their words. Usually there’s that stiff upper lip and exchange about the weather and that’s it. It’s sort of refreshing.

Ted chuckles and steps back, holding the door open a little wider as he gestures with his head towards the inside of the house.

“Come on in. I can grab you a plate that’s a little more sturdy than that one you have there.”

Keeley peers over his shoulder inside and since there’s light coming from every room that she can see thanks to the overcast sunshine.

“I promise, I’m not a serial killer or anything. Although,” Ted pauses as Keeley’s brow raises. “I guess that’s exactly what a serial killer would say to lure you in.”

“I think I could take you,” Keeley nods decisively as she steps through the doorway just enough for Ted to shut the door behind her as Mr Jinx sniffs at her trainers.

“It’s okay, Mr Jinx. Miss Keeley is only visiting. Plus, we don’t ask expecting ladies to take off their shoes.”

“Oh, it's not a problem,” Keeley demonstrates as she slips out of them and shuffles them to the side so they’re out of the way. As she does that, he sees that she slipped them on like slides rather than trainers. “Like you said, pregnant lady and one in search of food. I don’t have time to wait for Roy to come help me put them on.”

Ted nods slowly. He assumes Roy is the other half of the new neighbour situation in this whole thing.

“Well, hopefully you like spice. Not the ‘snot dripping out of your nose and crying into your plate’ spice but spice nonetheless.” Ted gestures for her to follow him down the hallway. “My friend, Ollie, his family owns an Indian restaurant in town and makes Indian food like we’re a part of the family and I can’t handle that spicy but my wife can. Whew. She’s a real champ. No Midwest American white lady ‘ground black pepper is too spicy’ taste buds with her.”

“Oh, I love spicy shit,” Keeley confirms, and she laughs as she gets a swift kick or jab. “This one has the jury still out since it gives me wicked heartburn, but I can’t stop eating it, you know?”

Ted hums sagely.

“I was once addicted to fettuccine alfredo. The doc convinced me eating all that fake sauce was going to kill me one day, so now I only have one plate when we go to Italy for holiday, since they do the real stuff.”

Ted rounds the corner of the kitchen and does a little Vanna White ta-da gesture to the hob.

“Sit down, kick your legs up or whatnot, and I’ll get you a plate,” Ted rounds the island countertop as he makes for the cupboard with the plates. “At the table you'll find my lovely wife…”

“Holy fucking shit.” Keeley whispers as her jaw drops and her paper plate and plastic fork falls to the ground in front of her as she spies the blonde woman at the table. “Shit.”

“Don’t worry,” Ted shakes his head as he eyes the young woman and the way she’s frozen on the spot like a rabbit in headlights just as his wife seems to be at the table as she shovels a forkful of lunch into her mouth. “I’ll get it for you.”

“Holy fuck. You’re Rebecca Welton.”

Rebecca drops her fork into the bowl in front of her and holds up a hand with a finger extended as if to say wait a moment, and Keeley steps closer to the table.

“Roy’s going to lose his mind when he finds out we’re neighbours with you.” Keeley waddles to the table and sits across from Rebecca at the table. “I’m Keeley.”

Rebecca looks over Keeley’s shoulder and watches as Ted opts for the bowl instead of the plate like he had planned. He scoops the rice into the bowl and does a quarter saag paneer and quarter aloo paneer scoop beside the rice and hums as he opens the cutlery drawer and digs out a spoon and a fork. Rebecca was hoping for some clue as to why there’s a stranger in their house, but he seems to be lost in his own world.

“Sorry for invading your space,” Keeley reaches out her hand as Rebecca shakes it, still chewing her bite. “I just smelled the spice, probably thanks to the half-open door you have behind you, and this one wouldn’t stop kicking me in the lungs. So, you know, meet the neighbours and be the weird pregnant lady who asks for some food all in one.”

Ted sets a glass of water and the bowl down in front of Keeley since he hadn’t picked up the place mats from breakfast, so she’s in the spot he sat down in earlier.

“Here you go. Didn’t know if you were a spoon or fork kind of woman. This one ate the last of the roti, but I can whip up a batch if you want one or two. Won’t take too long.”

“Oh, no. This is fine. Thank you,” Keeley picks up the spoon and digs in.

Rebecca looks at Ted again as he moves to sit in the chair next to her.

“They’re literally moving in,” Ted tips his head towards Keeley. “And since I can’t help you eat it because I am weak in the spice taste buds department, why not phone a new friend.”

Rebecca nods slowly.

“Sorry,” Keeley mumbles after a mouthful. “A, Holy shit, this is fantastic. And, B, I didn’t mean to fangirl all over you. But, like, I’ve read every single magazine you’ve ever been in. Even when you weren’t on the cover, I went and bought it anyway just for the article. The charity work you do and how much money you raise for all the kids inspired me to start my own PR firm so I could take money from the rich and give it back to communities in need and make them fund stuff that actually matters while steering companies to more progressive ways of investing and shit.”

“I had rather hoped I’ve been forgotten about,” Rebecca pokes through a piece of her aloo paneer with her fork and runs it against her bowl before she takes another bite.

She had once been engaged to AFC Richmond owner Rupert Mannion but called it off after she caught him with a woman young enough to be his child. So, she had ended it. The media storm that followed, calling her an ice queen and all other sorts of names as Rupert dragged her name through the press to stop them from catching onto why she left him, had driven her away. First to Spain, then to France, and finally to the States. The paparazzi had followed her everywhere. That is, until she took a train from New York City to Kansas City and darkened her hair colour just enough to not stand out as a platinum blonde in the middle of America. She’d been a relative nobody in Kansas City, Missouri. Quietly consulting the European charities and foundations from a home she rented and doing in-person charity work in Kansas City so she didn’t look like a recluse. The latter of which is how she met Ted Lasso, who had been the head basketball coach of University of Missouri-Kansas City.

She chews as Keeley inhales the food as if Ted is somehow going to take it from her. But he just leans back in his chair and his arm rests against the back of her chair.

“Most people probably have,” Keeley shrugs as she reaches for the water and takes a sip after a few bites. “After they couldn’t find you in New York City any more, the journos here pretty much forgot about you. I don’t know how it was back in the States.”

“They didn’t find me again,” Rebecca wobbles her head as she looks over at Ted. There were plenty of local paper summaries of charity things she assisted with, but her photo was rarely printed and her name less so. There were a few social media posts but since she doesn’t have social media, no one tagged her as a handle someone could trace. 

“The press are never awful to men. I mean, just look at your situation,” Keeley balls up her hands, fork included in one hand, and she shakes her head. “It made me so mad. Like fuck off.”

Rebecca chuckles a low, sardonic thing. It’s quite true. And she had explained on the fourth or fifth date why someone with her accent would make a semi-permanent home in the middle of America when Ted asked what the heck someone like her was doing here, of all the places in the ol’ US of A.

“My partner, Roy, he played for Chelsea until last year when he fucked his knee. Always said that guy was a prick,” Keeley confirms what Rebecca already knows. “And, umm, sorry for his future fanboying of you.”

Rebecca raises a brow as she reaches for her water cup.

“The South London Santa Drive is one of his favourite events. He always dresses up and plays Santa every year on December 23rd and then stays out all night finding all the last-minute fulfilment needs, since a Premier League footballer asking for something goes a long way.”

Rebecca sets down her water, tapping the glass as she smiles a little fondly.

“You know, we always got the most compliments about that day’s Santa. I thought it was just because everyone knew it was Roy Kent, but I watched a few interactions and noticed he changed his pitch and everything.”

“Master of disguise. Like a chameleon or some shit,” Keeley nods, and she releases a breath and puts a hand on her belly, pressing against her side. “He’s finally stopped. Thank you.”

Ted waves his hand that sits on the table like it's not a big deal.

Ted stands and refills Rebecca’s water while the two of them finish off their lunch. Keeley does most of the talking, which isn’t surprising since Rebecca takes a while to warm up to people when not ‘on the job’ so to speak. Transitioning from talk of Rebecca’s past with the press to the best Indian food places that aren’t Ollie’s that Rebecca should have Ted try since he likes Indian food that isn’t 'one of the family’ spice level. Rebecca is delighted to find that although it's been five years since she last stepped foot in London, most of her favourite Mediterranean and Indian food places are still in business since they’ve only moved into the neighbourhood last month.

“This is probably personal, and you can tell me to fuck off or whatever, but what the hell are you doing back here? I honestly thought I was going to have to go to the States and do like one of those missing people posters to find you to thank you for being my idol or whatever.”

Rebecca pops the last spicy potato piece into her mouth and leans back in her chair, feeling Ted’s fingers as they brush the back of her neck as he can’t help touching any part of her when they’re close. Her hand drops from the table and unconscious movements that are still foreign yet somehow engrained in her to do over the last ten weeks has her resting a hand atop the gentle swell of her 18-week belly that’s far more pronounced when she sits. 

She looks over at Ted and subtly nods. After all, he gets this little glint in his eyes whenever he mentions they’re having a baby to someone, and she wants to see it again and again.

“This one tells me this future kid of ours would get a far more well-rounded education here than where we were. And who am I to disagree with the smartest woman I know?” Ted looks at Keeley to start, but by the end, he’s turned back to Rebecca and winks as gives her a soft smile. 

“Oh my god,” Keeley screeches at a pitch that Rebecca’s sure only dogs can hear by the end of her squeal. She leans into the table, forgetting that her belly exists for a moment as an ‘ooff’ sounds out as she looks over the table edge to where Rebecca’s hand sits on her belly. “Our kids are going to be best friends, I know it. Holy shit. I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

Rebecca laughs and Ted’s arm drops from the top of her chair to around her shoulders, tucking her close to his side as he presses a kiss to her temple before letting her lean away again since the angle is too awkward to sit like that for long.

Keeley stands so she can see over the tabletop to get a better view and bites her lip.

“God. You really are glowing. I’m surprised I didn’t notice before. I usually have like a sixth sense of pregnant people, you know?” Keeley whispers as Rebecca turns the slightest shade of pink. “To have that little belly again. But I also want these last six weeks to go fast so I can squish this little guy and be able to go an hour without needing to pee.”

Rebecca nods in agreement about needing the loo part.

“To be honest, this is the first week I don’t feel like shit,” Rebecca says honestly. “Between the first trimester and time change between Kansas City and here, I barely know what day it is lately.”

“You guys know what you’re having yet?” Keeley wonders as she sits back down.

“No, not yet,” Rebecca shifts on her chair as she turns to face Ted. “He’s sure it’s a girl. I think boy.”

“But, we’ll be happy with however they identify,” Ted points out.

“I can see you with a whole football team of babies. So, you should definitely have another one,” Keeley assures them, and Ted chuckles with a shake of his head.

“That’s what her mama said the other day when we went over for dinner, slash ‘hey we’re having a baby’ surprise for future grandma.”

Before Keeley can say more, there’s a knock on the door.

“That’ll probably be Roy,” Keeley waves her hand. “He’s harmless.”

Ted raises a curious brow, but nonetheless gets up from the table again as he heads for the door. He picks up the paper plate and plastic fork as he exits the kitchen and tosses them onto the counter to throw away when he gets back.

Mr Jinx is a few steps ahead and sits at the door, looking back at Ted as if he’s a slowpoke, as another knock sounds before Ted opens it.

“Oi,” Roy nods his chin up as he greets Ted. “I assume Keeley’s here?”

“She sure is,” Ted opens the door wide and lets Roy step inside. “You must be Roy Kent.”

Roy grunts and gives the cat a nod and a smirk of a grin that Ted barely catches.

“I’m Ted. Ted Lasso.”

Ted considers the man before him as he takes off his trainers after noticing a line up next to the door. That’s the sort of British he’s used to. Gruff with little spoken. Ted gestures for Roy to follow.

“She’s in the kitchen. Sorry. Didn’t realise a half hour has gone by. She ate some of my wife’s lunch.”

Roy growls and Ted makes a point of clarification.

“To be fair, I did make too much, so it was actually helpful she came by and asked for a plate. I can even plate some up for you if you want.”

Ted trails off as they turn into the kitchen, and Roy pauses just to the side of Ted, taking the scene in.

“Babe! Look!” Keeley grins, looking over her shoulder to see Roy walking into the kitchen. “It’s Rebecca Welton!”

“Fuuucckkkkkk.”

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