Chapter Text
“Right . . .” Rebecca looks up from her phone, focusing on Nathan’s exhausted face. He’s holding two plastic key cards. “So there are two rooms left.”
“That means the team’s all set for tonight?” Ted whistles, clapping his hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Nate the Great strikes again!”
It’s been a long evening. They’d arrive at their Bournemouth hotel to the frenzy of ringing phones and agitated guests. The sprinklers had malfunctioned on two floors and the arrival of an entire Championship team nearly sent the poor manager running.
Thankfully Ted was able to talk him off the edge with some folky story about how this was just like the time when a raccoon took over the team’s locker room hours before the first playoff game.
Nathan jumped in, coordinating the room shuffle while Coach Beard enlisted the team to help the guests with their soggy luggage.
Rebecca stood awkwardly as the team lept into action. Then she ducked out to make a quick phone call to the local pub, asking them to send over a bit of everything in to-go boxes. She promised a team visit after tomorrow’s win. The pub owner snorted at that, but said he’d serve the wanker himself if that happened.
Three hours later, the team is successfully bunked in their rooms, three to four players in each with the help of rollaway beds. Ted has already declared it the greatest sleepover since Singin' in the Rain, but even he is starting to look a little ragged.
Now Rebecca looks up from the plastic keys to three grown men staring at her expectantly.
“Oh, bollocks. Are you serious?”
They look at one another with eyebrows raised, but don’t say a word.
“I’m not going to take one of those room keys just for me and make the three of you squeeze into a room.”
Nathan’s eyes somehow go wider and he lets out a squeak. Rebecca turns to Ted.
“A little help?”
“Well now, I don’t think this is a problem,” Ted gestures between himself, Nathan, and Coach Beard. “It might be tight, but we’ve got us a cot and two beds. Maybe we’ll even tell ghost stories or play a game of MASH before bed.”
Coach Beard coughs.
“Actually, we ran out of cots. But there are two double beds.”
Nate blanched.
“Shit. I think it might just be one.”
A double seems perfectly agreeable to her. As long as the shower works and cleaning services have been there. Her feet are throbbing in these heels. Decisions must be made.
“Fine, then I’ll take that room.”
“It’s next to Isaac’s room,” Nate says.
“So?”
“He doesn’t like to talk about it, but he has night terrors. He and Coach Beard here have a system,” Ted says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder at Coach Beard. “Let’s just leave it at that.”
Rebecca understands. She’s enjoyed getting to know the team, but boundaries are important. Ted snaps his fingers and points at the keys.
“Well hold on now, one of these is a suite, isn’t that right, Nate?”
“That’s a funny thing to just now be remembering Ted,” Rebecca raises her eyebrows at him.
Ted won’t meet her eye and Rebecca notes a slight flush high on his cheeks. She shouldn’t be surprised he was going to slip her the key to a suite much too large for one person when everyone else is forced to bunk up. Chivalry isn’t dead, it’s just a bit unsubtle and folksy.
Eventually Rebecca and Ted are waving goodnight to Nathan and Beard as the lift lets the two men out on the fourth floor. The doors slide shut leaving an exhausted manager and owner staring at their reflections. With a quiet whoosh, the lift continues up to the top of the building.
Rebecca sees Ted turn toward her in the reflection and she looks over at him, surprised by how close he is. He looks exhausted, but content. His normally well-kempt hair is hanging loose around his eyes.
“Thanks for dinner, Boss.”
“Oh, it was nothing, Ted. Honestly. It’s the least I could do for the team.”
“Believe me. It meant the world to them. And Coach Beard. It’s hard to tell with him, but once hangry Beard settles in, it’s a long road back to equilibrium. Lots of bridges burned. Might as well put ‘Bournemouth: Coach Beard not allowed’ at the entrance to town.”
“Well, I had no idea we were so close to an actual PR disaster.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty much the MVP of the weekend.” He looks at her, eyes sincere as can be. Rebecca feels her breath catch.
After a beat, he leans forward and her stomach does an unexpected swoop, but he’s just moving to grab their bags. The elevator door is open wide and Ted is waiting for her to lead the way.
The exhaustion has gotten to both of them. That’s all.
Rebecca lets them into the room and immediately bends down to take off her heels, stifling a groan at the pleasure of soft carpet beneath her aching feet.
Ted drops their bags off in the living room, hands on his hips. It’s all very domestic.
She slips past Ted, to drop her purse off by the bed when she realizes something. She walks back.
“Ted? Where’s the other room?”
“Oh. There’s only one room, room. This here’s the other room. It’s the living room.”
“Ted, I know what a living room is.”
“Well see, I was just going to sleep on the couch.” He puts his hands up to stop her protests, “No, really. I’ve gotten used to it, what with everything, you know, before,” he waved his hand around, but Rebecca gets it. Oklahoma.
But the couch is an antique chaise. Much too short for anyone. It’s more for perching with a cup of tea, ankles crossed, and fully vertical.
“Right. Well, that’s not happening.”
“You know what, I’ll be fine. I can just drag the chair over and do a little diagonal thing. Maybe it’ll make me dream outside the box, come up with a good play for tomorrow’s game.”
Rebecca shakes her head before he can get into the magic of hacking the REM cycle.
“Ted. It’s eleven o’clock. Please, I want to shower and go to bed,” she sighed. “We’re adults, it’s a king bed. We can share and figure out something in the morning.”
It’s out of her mouth before she has time to think about it. But if she’s anything other than practical, she’s tired. So very tired. And tomorrow’s game is pivotal for Richmond’s promotion. She can’t let her gaffer be any more loopy than usual.
Ted’s eyes dart from the bedroom doorway back to her, once, twice, three times, but then a yawn sneaks in and it’s clear she’s won.
After her shower, Rebecca slips out of the bathroom, feeling clean and utterly relaxed. Until she spots the bed. It’s big, but she remembered it being bigger earlier in the evening. Did it . . . shrink? You’ve done it now, Welton.
She slips under the sheets and pulls out her Kindle while Ted showers. It’s hard to focus on her book with the sound of water spraying and quiet humming. It’s so different from the solitary evenings she’s become accustomed to.
It should be odd to see Ted in sweats and a soft, worn t-shirt, but it turns out bedtime Ted isn’t too different from Coach Ted. Although the wet hair is new. He slides into the bed and keeps a very respectful distance, arms crossed over the comforter while Rebecca rereads the same line over and over again.
It’s been a while since she had a man in bed with her. The truth is, the domesticity of it makes her tense. This is usually when Rupert would start sighing passive aggressively until she put her book down and turned off her light.
She’s starting to spiral when Ted giggles.
Rebecca peers over her reading glasses.
“Yes, Ted?”
“Have you ever seen Planes, Trains, and Automobiles? Just something about this reminds me of that movie.”
He turns toward her and taps on the sheet. “You know, in that film Steve Martin actually starts in Wichita, Kansa after that blizzard sets him off course. Which is basically what happened to me, but in reverse and minus the bad weather. And now I’m in London. Not now, now Now I’m in Bournemouth. In a bed in Bournemouth with you.”
Rebecca isn’t sure when she grew fond of Ted’s ramblings, but she can’t help but smile. She cocks her eyebrow.
“And who, pray tell, am I in this scenario? John Candy or Steve Martin?”
Ted paused.
“You know what. I just went through that motel scene again in my head and I will amend my earlier statement. This is nothing like Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. It’s more It Happened One Night. ‘Behold the Walls of Jericho,’ amiright?”
She let out an involuntary snort.
“Very good, Ted. Just remember those are your pillows.”
“Rebecca.”
He says it quietly and this time she does put her kindle down.
“I mean it. Thank you.”
“Ted, it’s just a bed.”
But he shakes his head and lifts himself up to meet her eyes.
“Not about tonight. For everything. For being the tornado that brought me here from Wichita.”
Rebecca’s ready to tell Ted he’s mixing movie metaphors, but she can’t. After all, it would be a lie to say Ted was anything other than a tornado, upending her life in full technicolor.
That’s to say, she knows what he means.
Ted reaches across the sheets to squeeze her hand and there’s that swoop again, low in her belly. His brown eyes are warm and appreciative, but there’s something else.
He looks at her for another beat then his eyes flick down to her mouth, lingering for a moment. His eyes return to hers and he looks more tired than before.
With one final squeeze, he whispers “Goodnight, Boss” and turns out his light, leaving Rebecca alone with her thoughts.