Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ted should have seen it coming - he should have known the moment that Michelle told him that she and Dr. Jacob were going to Paris. Paris wasn’t just a normal vacation spot, it never had been. And still, when he logged onto Instagram the night after Henry went back to Kansas, he was surprised to see a picture of Michelle and Dr. Jacob, her hand held up toward the camera, a diamond ring sparkling on her fourth finger.

Posted twelve minutes ago.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away - it was surreal to think that he used to hold that hand, that he got down on one knee and put a ring on that same finger. She was smiling so wide that he nearly smiled looking at it, but it felt sour in his mouth, the movement. He wanted Michelle to be happy, that was undeniable. And he didn’t mind if that happiness wasn’t with him.

But it still felt like a betrayal that it was with their marriage counselor.

He glanced up to the top of the screen when a call came through. Rebecca.

“Hey Boss -”

“Ted what the fuck, are you alright?” she didn’t seem to hear his greeting, her voice just loud enough that he pulled the phone away from his ear to compensate. “I just got on Instagram, and I saw the -”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I just saw it, too.”

She went quiet. “You mean…you mean she didn’t tell you before she went and posted - Jesus Christ, I’m coming over -”

“You don’t hafta do that -”

“Do you want whiskey? Tequila? Vodka?” she asked, hardly listening. Ted smiled, ducking his head a little. “I know you don’t really like wine -”

“I usually drink whiskey,” he reasoned. “But it kinda makes me sad -”

“Tequila it is,” she said. “I’ll be over there in ten minutes.”

Before he could say anything else, she’d hung up, and her name had disappeared from his screen, leaving him once more with the image of Michelle and Dr. Jacob and her sparkling diamond ring, pear-shaped, the one design she told Ted she didn’t like when they were talking about marriage so many years ago. That brought him a little bit of satisfaction, the kind that he didn’t want to feel. But in the privacy of his home, he didn’t mind it that much. Surely he would shake it off by the time Rebecca arrived.

Except when she knocked on the door and he got up to let her in, he hadn’t shaken it off, and he didn’t feel any better. She was in a green version of the red dress she wore to Ola’s opening, her hair perfectly coiffed. In one hand was a bottle of tequila, in the other, a bag of limes and her phone pinched between two of her fingers.

“You look nice,” he said, a little dumbly, stepping aside to let her inside. She strode right through on to his kitchen, setting the tequila and limes on the island before she turned back to him.

“What?” she asked.

“I said you look nice,” he said, following her into the kitchen, taking out a knife and some salt.

“I was going to go out -”

He sighed, setting the knife down. “Don’t cancel your night for me, Rebecca -”

“Oh fuck my night,” Rebecca said heatedly, waving him off. “I don’t need to go out and get drunk so men who can’t form more than two sentences without looking at my tits can talk to me. Not while you’re dealing with…all of this.”

He blinked, his eyes dropping to her chest for half a second before he looked away. “It’s not my business -”

“You’re co-parenting a child together, it is a little bit your business,” she said curtly, turning away to open one of his cabinets. “Where are your shot glasses?”

“I don’t have shot glasses,” he said, chuckling a little when she glared at him over her shoulder. “And I don’t…I don’t wanna make this thing about me, not when we’re not - I mean…Michelle and I aren’t -”

“Stop putting on a facade for me,” she said dismissively. “Because I hated Rupert by the time we got divorced and seeing him with Bex still felt like getting slapped in the face. It doesn’t mean that you want her back, it doesn’t mean -”

“He was our couples therapist,” he said, the words coming out so suddenly he almost didn’t realize he was saying them. Rebecca stopped, turning back to look at him completely, her eyes wide, the anger in her visage fading away to something more troubled. “I told you that Michelle and I did couples therapy -”

“Oh my God,” she said breathlessly. “You’re fucking joking.” She turned back around, taking down two glasses, reaching for the tequila. “I’m so - I’m so sorry, Ted, that’s…that’s beyond inappropriate, that’s…awful -”

“Mhmm,” he said noncommittally.

“What a fucking arsehole,” she muttered, yanking the plastic wrap off the cap of the unopened tequila, setting it down to take out some ice from the freezer. “I’m sorry, Ted, I know you’re not going to like this, but both of them are fucking arseholes -”

“I don’t know that he did…that she did….while we were married -”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said under her breath, dropping ice cubes into the glass, pulling the top off the tequila. “Honestly, it doesn’t fucking matter, Ted, that’s still completely inconsiderate, it’s fucking inappropriate, I don’t know how you’re not furious right now -”

“I am, a little,” he admitted.

She stopped, all of her whirlwind movement ceasing suddenly, turning back to him, her brow furrowed. He heard the heavy thunk of her setting the bottle of tequila down and then she was hugging him, her arms gentle around his shoulders, her heels making her just tall enough for that to be the most logical place for them. He let his own settle around her waist, her cheek finding his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, much softer than before. She stepped back, her arms still around his shoulders. “Do you want to get drunk with me? Forget about it?”

He let his eyes drop to her lips for half a second before he looked away. “Yes, I do,” he said.

***

He woke up the next morning to a pounding headache - he had one leg hanging off of his too-small couch, his neck sore from the awkward angle. He groaned, trying to sit up, failing momentarily when he reached his hand out for support and missed the edge of the couch he was already lying on.

He straightened up, dropping his head into his hands when the whole room tilted, his eyes catching sight of Rebecca’s gold shoes, discarded by the door that led into the hallway. He squinted at them for a moment before he heard her moving around in the other room.

His bedroom.

He didn’t remember much of the night before - he remembered watching Rebecca take the first shot of tequila, the salt, shot, lime rhythm so smooth he forgot he was supposed to be taking his own shot. He remembered his eyes following the line of her throat, the sight of it leaving a knot in his gut that drinking didn’t untie.

She’d opened up his windows and sang a song out onto the street, he could practically hear it again, smiling at the memory. Right after that he was confronted with the memory of her sitting beside him on the couch, her voice soft, comforting, so tender it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He could almost feel the bizarre cocktail of feelings having her there had invoked in him just sitting there, trying to relive it.

“Ted -” her voice pulled him out of his reverie, and there she was, in the doorway, in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers. “Christ, you look knackered -”

“Sounds like a new kinda Snickers,” he muttered, pushing his hands through his hair. She leaned on the door frame, the curve of her hip a hint through his baggy shirt, her hair just tousled enough that he wondered how it got that way, if she did it or if he did. He could almost imagine a different version of the evening, where he was the one who messed up her hair, who sprinkled salt on his own hand for her to lick off -

“You okay?” she asked. “You’re not going to be sick, are you, because you’re looking a little…”

“I’m feelin’ mighty handsome right now,” he said, listening to her throaty chuckle.

“Well, do you at least feel better than you did last night?” she asked.

He did and he didn’t - he shrugged at her, watching her wander into the kitchen, her bare feet suddenly interesting, evidence of her comfort. She didn’t say anything to that, not until she had the kettle that came with his apartment turned on. She turned back to him, crossing her arms over her chest, and sighed.

“If it makes you feel any better, I meant what I said last night,” she said.

He frowned “What - what did you say last night?” he asked.

She tilted her head at him. “Wow, tequila really fucks you up, doesn’t it?” she asked. When he didn’t say anything, her smile stretched a little wider. “You really don’t remember?”

The way she said it made him feel a little warm under the collar, a little flushed. “I guess not,” he said leadingly, hoping she’d explain. “Are you gonna…are you gonna tell me, or am I s’posed to guess?”

She shrugged. “Maybe both,” she said. When she took down two cups from the cupboard, she turned back to him. “Michelle texted you an invite to the engagement party last night, while we were uh…while we were drinking.”

“Oh,” he said, disappointed.

“You said that you’d go, but you were bringing me,” she said. “As your date.”

“I - now wait a minute,” he said, standing up, sitting back down immediately after, when his head swam. “You’re gonna have to walk me back through that with…with more steps -”

“Okay,” she said bracingly. “We were…drinking, obviously -”

“Obviously,” he agreed.

“And you were talking about how you wanted to be a good ex-husband, you wanted to not be angry, the usual.” She tilted her head at him with a rueful smile. “You’re always dedicated to being the best of us.”

He didn’t know what to do with that, or what to say. He ducked his head, shifting slightly when she sat down next to him. She smelled a little bit like him, from his clothes, a little like her usual perfume.

“And then you said that you didn’t want to be the sad, lonely guy while your ex-wife moved on and got remarried, and all of your friends back in Kansas would be, you know, judging you, pitying you -” she grimaced when he hummed. “And I told you then and I’ll tell you now, Ted, you have nothing to be ashamed about.”

He shrugged, hoping she’d take that as an acquiescence. But, as usual, she understood his quiet contradiction, and turned even more completely toward him, her knee pressing into his leg.

“What they did was so many shades of wrong, Ted, no one would blame you for not going to their…shitty engagement party or whatever party they throw to try to convince people it isn’t unethical and gross,” she muttered. “But then Michelle messaged you the invitation, and you said you wanted to go.”

“I said that?” he asked, watching her crack a smile.

“You said that,” she confirmed. “You said you didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of hiding. You also said something about wanting Michelle to be happy, but I’m too pissed off at her to remember it, so you’re on your own there -”

“You don’t have to be pissed off at her,” he said bracingly. “It’s not -”

“I do have to be pissed off at her, Ted,” she said firmly. “Because you’re too good of a person to do it, or at least you’re too good of a person to show it, and you know what? Someone has to be mad for you, and it’s going to be me this time.”

He looked up at her, at the sharp line of her jaw, her fingers tight around her own hand. She glanced over at him, the movement of his head catching her attention, and he was momentarily astonished by the rage he saw in her eyes, mixed with something terribly raw and sad. But then he remembered how angry she was when Nate leaked his panic attacks, how she promised to find Trent’s source and punish them accordingly.

Lion or panda? No matter how much he learned about her, no matter how many times she showed him a softer side, she would always be a lion.

He cleared his throat. “And then what happened?”

“I told you that the best way to go to the engagement party and not be seen as someone who should be pitied was to go with a date, and you said,” he watched her straighten up and was pleased when she tried to mimic his accent, “how funny do ya think it would be if we showed up like we were datin’?”

He groaned, dropping his head back into his hands. “I did not say that.”

“You did say that,” she confirmed. “And I said that it sounded like a fucking brilliant idea, and you told Michelle.”

“I - I actually told Michelle -”

“You told Michelle that you were bringing me, Rebecca, your girlfriend, as your plus one,” she confirmed. “And then you took another shot and asked me to sing A Whole New World from Aladdin out the window.”

“Oh my God -”

“I know, I said it was going to be out of my range, but you believed in me -”

“Rebecca,” he interrupted, and she stood up, going back into the kitchen. “I - I should probably message Michelle that…that all of that was a mistake, a - a miscommunication -”

“So I got to be your fake girlfriend for a few hours and now we’re fake breaking up?” she asked. “That’s…I’m sorry, Ted, that’s even worse than just going and pretending.” She rummaged around in the kitchen for a moment before she poked her head back into the living room. “Do you want a coffee?”

“Yes, please,” he muttered, standing up, following her into the kitchen. She was reaching into the cabinet for the coffee grounds, his shirt riding up a little on her torso, revealing a strip of her hip, a hint of black lace just above the waistband of the boxers. He tore his eyes away, padding away to go dig out aspirin.

“Silence usually means you’re overthinking,” she remarked when he came back, passing her a pair of pills and taking his own. She took them dry, wincing past the swallow, and cleared her throat. “Here’s what’s going to happen - you and I are going to go to this engagement party, and I’m going to look incredible -”

“So the usual -”

“And I’m going to - thank you - I’m going to make all of your Kansas friends insanely jealous of you so no one will even think to feel pity for you, or anything of the kind. And then we’re going to spend some time with Henry, eat some cake, and then take the jet home. Painless.”

“Painless,” he repeated.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you take me to some barbecue place that you keep talking about,” she said, setting about making coffee. When he looked over at her, she was already looking at him, a pinch in her brow. “Seriously, Ted, I’m kind of running out of funny things to say at this point, usually you talk more -”

“This just seems like a terrible idea,” he said, unable to think of anything else to say but the truth.

She lifted one shoulder. “It probably is,” she admitted. “But I’ll protect you.”

***

By the time they got on the jet, a full two weeks after the invitation, Ted still hadn’t reassured himself that what they were doing was a good idea. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many ways that he could ruin his friendship with Rebecca, even ways that his subconscious helpfully dreamed up that he could end up publicly humiliating himself and ruining his relationship with both Michelle and Henry.

But Rebecca seemed undeterred. She asked him, halfway through the week, what the dress code was going to be for the party, ignoring his gentle reminder that dressing up in Kansas was nowhere near the same as dressing up in London.

She didn’t tell him what she was planning to wear to the party, her sly smile reminding him of how angry she’d been when he told her about the engagement in the first place, how she promised that she would protect him, whatever that meant.

He had a feeling she knew something he didn’t, or else something he told her about the situation had touched a nerve he wasn’t aware of, that she refused to share.

“Are you excited to see Henry?” she asked. “All things considered?”

“He actually said he was excited to see you,” Ted said, a little sheepishly. “That VIP tour of Abbey Road made you his new favorite person for the foreseeable future.”

“If you had stood by our agreement and said that you got the tour yourself, that never would’ve happened,” she teased, pulling her feet up on the seat, more like a recliner than an airplane seat.

He watched her take out a book from her bag, a well-worn copy of Madame Bovary, turning to the marked page before she squinted down at it and let it fall closed again.

“If I’m bothering you, I can go to the other end of the jet,” he said, watching her roll her eyes.

“Hush,” she chided lightly, reaching into her bag and pulling out a container he immediately recognized. She considered it for a moment before she put it away again.

“Rebecca, do you wear glasses?” he asked, and this time, she didn’t roll her eyes - she flushed a little, setting the book aside with a huff. “Don’t let me stop ya, Boss, I’ve got my own set somewhere back home -“

“I don’t need them,” she said, a little petulantly.

“Okay,” he said, amiably enough. “So read.”

She glared at him, her lips pursed.

He held out his hand. “Here, I’ll read for ya,” he said, taking the book from her. “Toss me those glasses, would ya?”

He put them on the bridge of his nose, chuckling when she laughed, her mouth nearly forming his name between her giggles. He couldn’t see anything with her glasses obscuring his vision, the prescription a little too strong for his own eyes. He peered over the edge at her, at her fond smile, her bottom lip in her teeth.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“Hmm?” she asked, distracted.

“In the book.”

“Halfway down the page,” she said, her fingers covering her mouth before she dropped them. “Ted, do you know what that book is about?”

He frowned, looking at the cover again. “The title’s familiar -”

Her smile turned into a smirk. “Then by all means, go ahead.”

He peered over the rim of her glasses again, finding a spot in the middle of the page. “She became herself, as it were, an actual part of these imagingins, and realized the love-dream of her youth as she saw herself in this type of amorous women whom she had so envied. Besides, Emma felt a satisfaction of revenge. Had she not suffered enough? But now she triumphed, and the love so long pent up burst forth in full joyous bubblings. She tasted it without remorse, without anxiety, without trouble.”

He paused, looking up at her, her body language shifted from before, her chin in her hand, eyes on him.

“Keep going,” she coaxed, her free hand waving the book closer.

He looked back down at the book. “The day following passed with a new sweetness. They made vows to one another. She told him of her sorrows. Rodolphe interrupted her with kisses; and she looking at him through half-closed eyes, asked him to call her again by her name - now hold on a second, I know where this is goin’,” he said, listening to the way she laughed, pleased enough that it brought a burning blush to his cheeks.

He handed it back to her, her hand covering his before it slipped away, passing the glasses back too. She took them and put them on, lifting the book.

“Asked him to call her again by her name - to say that he loved her. They were in the forest, as yesterday, in the shed of some woodenshoe maker. The walls were of straw and the roof so low they had to stoop. They were seated side by side on a bed of dry leaves -”

“Terrible place to meet up for a tryst,” Ted joked, chuckling uneasily. She lowered the book to look at him over the pages, his eyes meeting hers for only a moment before he looked away. There was something subtly seductive in her gaze now, over the rim of her glasses, something that made his stomach tighten. “A shed.”

“Yeah?” she asked, setting the book aside. “You know about having sex in sheds, Ted?”

He felt his mouth drop open for a second, losing his entire train of thought when Rebecca lifted an eyebrow at him, snapping it shut when her lips curled into a smile. She set the book aside, two of her fingers marking the page, dropping her chin back to her hand.

“Do tell,” she prodded.

“It’s not fair for you to demand things of me wearin’ glasses like a disappointed English teacher,” he muttered, smiling when she laughed.

“Likes glasses,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll remember that.”

***

Rebecca timed the flight flawlessly, so that the jet touched down in time for them to stop for dinner at a tiny restaurant that looked too shabby to accommodate Rebecca at all, where she ate pancakes, of all things, with bacon, remarking thoughtfully on the difference between bacon in the States and bacon back home. After that, the only thing to do was to go to their hotel and check in.

The ride in the jet didn’t exhaust him quite like a plane ride usually did - he didn’t know what to make of that. Maybe it was because the journey went faster, because the jet could simply go faster. Maybe it was all of the extra room, the staff on the jet who waited on them both hand and foot. Or maybe, he thought, watching Rebecca tap her fingernails absently on the counter while the woman behind the front desk made a phone call, it was Rebecca’s company.

He couldn’t put his finger on what shifted since their night drinking tequila in his apartment. She was still the same Rebecca he knew, the one he’d painstakingly learned about, the one he…but it seemed like she’d changed after that night, like she’d dropped a bit of pretense since that night and replaced it with something that felt a lot like flirtatiousness.

And that he wasn’t sure how to handle.

Because flirting with Rebecca felt like holding a lit firework, and he could feel how easy it would be to just…fall into the pattern, to let it progress, but what if it wasn’t real? What if it was just for the engagement party? Or worse, what if it was real and he messed it up like he messed up his marriage?

Her hand closed on his arm, and then she was tugging him away from the desk, passing him a hotel key.

“Our rooms are joined by a door,” she said. “Well, two doors, I suppose, but a door.”

“That’s…convenient,” he said, catching the way her eyes sidled over to him. “Ain’t it?”

“I’ll leave my door open if you leave yours open,” she said, almost teasingly, and immediately, after taking in his expression, she was laughing. “I’m kidding. I don’t mind if you keep the door closed, Ted.”

“No, I’ll - I’ll leave it open,” he protested, feeling a little bit like he was taking on a challenge issued on the playground. She smirked at him again and didn’t speak. They wandered into the elevator, Rebecca leaning against the wall, taking out her phone and tapping on the screen, her nails filling the silence with quiet tap tap noises.

“This Dr. Jacob,” she said finally, as the elevator doors closed. “Does he still see patients?”

He glanced over at her. “I - I don’t know -”

“Because isn’t it a huge red flag that he’s getting married to one of his former clients?” she asked. “Surely someone’s informed the Board -”

“Don’t,” Ted said sharply. “Don’t report him to the Board.”

She frowned at him before she looked away. “If you’re sure.” She dropped her phone into her bag. “Because I will report him, I don’t give a damn, not after what they did to you -”

“I know, and I appreciate it,” he said softly, glancing up at the floor numbers as the light shifted from one to the next. “But if Michelle is happy, isn’t that the…the goal? I want her to be happy -”

“Men manipulate women into thinking they’re happy all the time,” she said, darkly enough that Ted looked over at her, at the closed off expression on her face. She looked like she was going to say something else, and then the elevator door cranked open and she thought better of it, giving Ted one more glance before she went out into the hallway.

He hadn’t considered that maybe Michelle and Dr. Jacob might bring up some ugly memories for her. But he saw it, in that half-second that she allowed her emotions to bleed through before she walled them up again. Beyond the anger she felt for him, there was something else there.

“Rebecca.”

She stopped outside the hotel room door, the key in between two of her fingers. She looked back at him, angry and beautiful and intense.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize this would be…”

“Why are you apologizing?” she asked.

He paused. “What?”

“Why are you apologizing for something that you didn’t do?” she asked. “You’re not Rupert. You’re certainly not that fucking therapist.” She pursed her lips, a soft, momentary reminder that there was sadness behind her anger. It made his entire chest ache, looking at it. “You know, Ted, one day you’re going to have to stop apologizing for shit you didn’t do. Trying to make sure everyone is happy all the time is a perfect way to never be happy yourself.”

She stared at him for a moment before she pushed open the door to her room, leaving him alone in the hallway. He went into his own room, listening to the sounds of her through the conjoining door, hesitating for only a second before he went to it and pulled it open.

He had just finished hanging up his clothes in the closet when the other door opened, revealing Rebecca’s room on the other side. She looked in, just far enough to catch sight of him. The momentary smile she gave him felt a little like she was easing the pressure in his chest, giving him a breath from her own lungs.

“You know, sometimes I think you’re the only man I’ve ever known that hasn’t manipulated me,” she said.

She didn’t give him time to say anything. She stepped away from the open door and then she was out of sight, leaving him looking at the empty doorway while the words sunk in.

***

He dreamed about that tequila-fueled night, sleeping fitfully in an unfamiliar bed, the conjoining doors to his and Rebecca’s rooms closed over but not closed completely. He didn’t know if his dream was true or not - it had the shimmer of falseness that most dreams had, but there was something about the way Rebecca looked at him, her hair falling into her face, her glass held at the tips of her fingers, the top of her hand turned toward her mouth as if to hide her laugh - all of that was honest and real and tangible.

He reached out and touched her face in the dream, fingertips over her cheek that only solidified when she tilted her head a little in his direction, her eyes bright and warm and sparkling. Her skin was so soft, her eyes even softer.

“Sometimes, I wish I could…” he didn’t finish the sentence, the words stopping halfway up his throat.

She smiled. “Sometimes, I wish you would.”

He blinked, slowly, and then when he opened his eyes again, Rebecca was lying on his couch, her legs over his thighs, her hand reaching for her almost empty glass on the table, her dress riding up just high enough that he could see a tantalizing glimpse of thigh.

“I see you looking,” she murmured, and he watched her sit up, her hair falling forward, nearly obscuring her eyes. “Why don’t you touch instead?”

He jolted awake as his hand reached toward her, settling over her shin, near her knee, and then he was staring at the ceiling of his hotel room, sunlight streaming in through the crack in the curtains to his left. He turned over onto his side, reaching for the pillow that he’d dislodged in the night, curling one arm over it.

He glanced toward the conjoining doors, the edge of Rebecca’s door gone now, her door more open. He drifted back toward slumber, lingering in the realm of half-awake, listening for any sound. He heard her voice, faint, quiet, talking on the phone, and then nothing for a while, until her voice drifted over to him again, singing a song that was almost familiar over the sound of running water.

She was singing in the shower.

He let that knowledge keep him awake, picking up his phone from the side table to check his messages. One from Beard, one from Trent, nothing else. He set his phone aside, getting up out of bed to pull his conjoining door open to match Rebecca’s.

He called down for room service, coffee for them both and some pastries, because he didn’t think that Kansas would know how to prepare tea the way Rebecca liked it, and even if they did, he wasn’t sure he thought it would be up to snuff. He turned on the television, the news station a little jarring now that it had been so long since he last heard it, and listened to the shower shutting off next door.

Rebecca was still singing, softer now that the water wasn’t drowning her out. Whitney Houston, he thought, listening. He remembered the smooth, beautiful way she sang karaoke in Liverpool, what he remembered of it, and then the way she sang at her father’s funeral, her voice tempered by grief and fear.

It was Christmas that he was thinking of now, more fondly. She got to sing openly, an entire song, and he remembered it so clearly it was like it happened the night before. It had felt like a gift at the time, being able to hear the entire song, the emotion in her voice crisp, warm, happy.

She was happy here, too, singing this song.

He heard the bathroom door open, and then she was in the doorway, wrapped in just a white towel, her hair slicked back, freshly combed. He could hardly breathe at the sight of her, legs bare, collarbone shiny with water droplets from the ends of her hair. Her skin was uninterruptedly golden, her face softer without makeup.

“Oh, good morning,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Did you bring that red tie I asked for?”

“I -” he had to look away when she leaned against the doorframe, the edge of the towel, lodged between her breasts, shifting a little when she crossed her arms. “I - I did, but like I said before, people don’t wear ties much in Kansas -”

“I don’t care what they do here,” she said, waving off his protest. “You’re a Londoner now, Ted. For the next day at least.”

She said it with such confidence that it sounded like a compliment. He smiled, letting her hold his gaze until a knock came at his door. She looked over at it, leaning back into her room when he stood up to answer it. He waited until she was entirely out of sight before he opened the door, bringing in the tray of coffee and breakfast.

When she reappeared, her hair was up in a towel and she was wearing a robe instead. Still, every now and then, if she turned just the right way, the front of it would open just enough to remind him that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Can I pour you a coffee?” he asked.

“You ordered me coffee?” she asked, surprised enough that he did a double-take back at her.

“Got some donuts, too,” he said. “They’re not as good as the biscuits, or the croissants back home, but -”

“Go on, then,” she said fondly, coming into his room entirely, sitting on the edge of his unmade bed, his body blocking the only other chair in the room, next to the table that now held the tray. He hesitated in turning away from her, finding it hard to look away from the sight of her sitting on the bed he slept on. He poured her a cup of coffee and then his own, his eyes catching sight of her standing up and approaching.

“I’ll do the sugar and cream,” she said softly, her hand reaching for the packets of sugar. “How many do you want?”

“Just two,” he could feel how quietly he was talking, how quiet she was, like there was some kind of spell being woven that they didn’t dare break. He watched her work, shoulders almost touching, tearing open sugar packets and leaving them in a neat little stack.

She held up the milk, waiting until he nodded before she poured some into his cup and then her own, leaning over the table to put it back, his peripheral vision catching sight of a sliver of bare skin, her robe falling open just a little before she leaned back.

“Do you want to review our story while we eat?” she asked, letting him retreat to the bed and taking the now open chair. “So we’re convincing?”

He shrugged. “Hit me with it, Boss.”

She crossed her legs, the open hem of the robe exposing more of her thigh. “How long have we been dating, then?”

“Three months,” he said, feeling rather like he was winning a quiz game.

“And our first date was -”

“Dinner after an away match in Liverpool,” he said. “A nice French restaurant -”

“I prefer Italian, for future reference,” she teased. “And how, pray tell, did you ask me out, Coach Lasso?”

He smiled, sipping his coffee. “That’s a trick question, miss missy,” he said. “I didn’t. You did.”

She grinned, pleased. “You’re damn right I did.”

“Made it sound like there wasn’t even an option to say no,” he said. “It’s very hard to deny you anything.”

“Good,” she murmured. “Now, because someone will ask: is it serious?”

He tilted his head at her, watching the smile on her face fade a little as she took in his expression. She sipped her coffee, the cup delicate in her hand in a way it simply wouldn’t be in anyone else’s. It felt almost like the question was suddenly realer than the others, genuine, like there was a stake on it he hadn’t realized before.

“Yes,” he said. “I wouldn’t have risked our friendship if it wasn’t serious.”

She looked down at her coffee. “You say that with such earnestness,” she said. “I didn’t know you were such a good actor.”

He tilted his head. “Yeah, me neither.”

The silence stretched thin, long enough that Ted tried to find something new to say, a joke to make, a musical theatre reference to bring them back to normal waters. Finally, she cleared her throat and sipped her coffee again, and the tension eased.

“Want to try me?” she asked. “Ask me questions?”

He chuckled. “I’m sure I could rustle up a couple,” he said, watching her smile fondly at him. “You wanna play Ted Lasso trivia? We can play trivia.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to stifle her smile. “Ted -”

“What’s my favorite color?” he asked. “It’s okay if you don’t know -”

“Green,” she said.

“Ooh, point, Welton,” he said, impressed. “Everyone always says blue.”

“I know they do,” she said. “Blue looks nice on you, but it’s not your favorite color.”

“What’s my favorite book?” he asked.

“The Fountainhead -”

“There’s no way I told you that,” he protested, and she laughed, the sound gleeful, open. “There’s no way you know that!”

“I do my research,” she said evasively. “Go ahead, keep going -”

“Celebrity crush -”

“Diane Sawyer, that’s easy -”

“Favorite restaurant -”

“Arthur Bryant’s -”

“What’s my favorite holiday?”

“New Year’s Eve,” she said, leaning forward, holding the little coffee cup with both hands. “You love fresh starts, and staying up late -”

“And it’s close to your birthday,” he said, watching her smile falter a little. “Yeah, that’s right, I know things about you too.”

“Do you?” she asked, stretching her legs out, pointing her toes.

“Let’s see,” he said, standing up, picking up a donut, tearing it in half and then in half again, holding out a piece toward her. She leaned forward, taking it into her mouth directly, humming when he backed up toward his seat again. He swallowed, watching her chew pensively, before he got his mind back on track again.

“Let’s see, your favorite color is blue, your favorite book is Wuthering Heights -”

“If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn’t love as much in eighty years as I could in a day,” she quoted quietly.

“Remind me to read it,” he said. “Where was I? Oh, you have a poster of Patrick Swayze in your bedroom at your parents’ -”

“I was a kid -”

“And you also love Errol Flynn, who is not, apparently, one of the owls from Harry Potter,” he continued. “Your favorite restaurant is Chiltern Firehouse, your favorite holiday is Christmas -”

“Now you’re just showing off -”

“And you love that dessert whose name I always forget. It’s the one with the meringue and the strawberries, and it has a really unflattering name -”

Her smile softened. “Eton Mess.”

“There you go,” he said triumphantly. “I tried to make meringue once, I had half a mind to make it for you one day, but I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to whip egg whites by hand, but not even Isaac’s muscles could do it without giving up, I think -”

“So do I give you the boyfriend of the year award now or later?” she asked coyly, standing up, reaching over him for another piece of donut. “I think you know more about me than Rupert did while we were married.”

He hummed. “Hard for a fella to get to know his wife when he’s too busy stickin’ his head up his own keester, right?”

When she laughed, he stood up, too, watching how she leaned a little closer to him, two magnets pulling each other together before he stepped back.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he said. “Eat more donuts.”

“Yes, sir,” she said as he turned away.

***

Rebecca disappeared for nearly two hours to get dressed - Ted found a James Bond movie on the television to watch, trying not to feel the anxiety that was slowly building in his stomach the closer the clock ticked to the party starting. Even after he got dressed, red tie and all, he went immediately back to his chair and tried to lose himself in a movie he hadn’t even been watching closely enough to follow.

“It’s almost time,” she said, and he looked up to find her standing in the doorway, in a red dress with a corset bodice, her hair perfectly wavy, so beautiful he forgot that he had to breathe to continue living. He felt himself rise to his feet almost without realizing it, his eyes traveling down, over her cinched waist, to the curve of her hips, the skirt loose and breezy, her heels putting her a good inch above him. “What is it?”

“Wow,” he said, unable to come up with another word on short notice. She smiled, a little insecure. “I mean…wow.”

“Yeah?”

“I know you said you were going to look incredible for the - the - I know that was the point, but - wow,” he could feel his face burning the longer she looked at him. “You’re actually remindin’ me that I used to be very much enamored with Jessica Rabbit -”

She barked a surprised laugh, covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers, the force of it moving her a step forward. “Jessica Rabbit? Ted -”

“I used to be very attached to the idea that a beautiful woman could love me just for bein’ funny,” he said, a little wistfully. “Before I, you know, added my mustache and became such a ladies man -”

“Come now,” she said lightly. “Your mustache isn’t even your best feature.”

He stepped a little closer to her, taking her offered arm, close enough to smell her perfume, sweet and sugary with a little spice underneath. “Yeah?” he asked. “What is then?”

She tilted her head toward him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

***

The party was outside, reminding Ted a little of a garden party that Rebecca took him to last year that she hadn’t wanted to attend. The little dance floor had grass curling over the edges, the string lights were just dim enough to give the whole evening a little bit of sparkle. It was still painfully Kansas, too shabby for someone like Rebecca, who looked like she was wearing clothes that cost more than the entire building.

But she didn’t look like she agreed - she looked around curiously before taking a glass of champagne off the tray resting on a table, abandoned, sipping it lightly. “Do you want one?” she asked. “Loosen you up a little bit?”

“What if someone wants us to kiss?” he asked, the fear occurring to him suddenly.

She pulled her head back. “First of all, that’s a weird request for a person to make,” she said baldly. “Might as well just ask us to fuck -”

“Rebecca -”

“If someone says something, then you kiss me, you silly bugger,” she said, dropping her voice lower when someone walked by. “And you better make it convincing.”

He didn’t know how to tell her that it would feel like he’d done something wrong, like he’d done it without her consent - she’d just given her consent after all, and she didn’t look the least bit worried about it, which was concerning, because how was she not concerned about it? How was she not worried that they’d kiss and then that would make everything crumble, that he would kiss her and realize he never wanted to kiss anyone else again, but by tomorrow evening, the charade would be over, and she would know what it was like to kiss him, and she would be thoroughly unmoved while he was tortured forever?

“Ted,” she stopped, turning to face him, so close he had to pull his head back a little to see her entire expression. She rested her bicep on his shoulder, almost like they were hugging. “I need you to relax, okay? Whatever you’re overthinking about, it’s not necessary.”

“You don’t know that -”

“I do know that,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You are the most handsome man here, probably the most handsome man this place has ever seen. And I am, let’s face it, the hottest woman in the state.”

He could tell by the way her mouth twitched that she was saying it just to make him laugh, but he nodded seriously at her anyway.

“The country, probably,” he corrected. The world, the universe -

“And I’m the one in charge tonight,” she finished. “So have some fun with Henry, relish in the knowledge that all of your old high school and college friends are probably insanely jealous of you -” she fiddled with his tie, her eye finding someone behind him, “and pretend like that arsehole of a therapist with an idiotic name and Michelle don’t even exist.”

“That’s going to be a little difficult -”

“Well, tonight I’m your girlfriend, so it’s only right that you listen to me and pay attention to me instead of other people,” she said, her almost smile shifting. “Henry! My, aren’t you a handsome young man -”

Ted turned around, just in time for Henry to collide into his side, hugging him so tightly he could hardly breathe. He wrapped both arms around him, under Henry’s arms, giving him just enough leverage to lift him into the air and twirl him in a circle, Rebecca chuckling at them both. He set him down, Henry wobbling a little before he turned toward Rebecca, eyeing her a little before he held open his arms for a hug.

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely,” she murmured, letting him hug her, far more gently than he hugged Ted. “Are you having a good day?”

“Mom made me wear this,” he said, looking down at his jeans and button-up shirt, tucked in. Ted watched her look at him, pursing her lips. “It’s stuffy.”

“Is it?” she asked, reaching for the top button on his shirt, undoing it, fixing his collar. “How’s that? Better?”

Henry shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“If it gets too warm out there, I’ll help you roll those sleeves up, yeah?” she asked. “Wanna go track down a lemonade?”

Henry nodded, Rebecca’s hand finding his back, between his shoulder blades. She glanced back at Ted, leaning over toward him to press a momentary kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering by his ear. “Why don’t you say hello to everyone and when they irritate you, come find us. I’ll get you a drink. Something with tequila?”

He laughed, one hand falling to her waist before she drifted away, taking Henry with her. When he turned around, Michelle and Dr. Jacob were there, Michelle watching Rebecca walk away with her eyebrows raised.

“Wow, a tie,” Dr. Jacob said. “You didn’t have to do that for us.”

Ted let Michelle give him a hug, trying not to let her feel the stiffness in the gesture. “I’d love to say I did it for you, Dr. Jacob, but when you’re goin’ places with Rebecca Welton, you wear a tie. That’s just the protocol.”

“Well thank you for coming,” Michelle said warmly. “I know you both came a long way -”

“We wanted to congratulate you in person,” Ted hedged. “And see Henry, of course.”

“He’s been very excited about you both coming,” she said. “I didn’t realize he and Rebecca were close -”

“She got us a VIP tour to Abbey Road, so he’s been in love with her ever since,” Ted said fondly. “She tried to tell Henry that I did it, but what can I say, the little man is…perceptive.”

For some reason, Dr. Jacob looked a little uncomfortable about that, shifting slightly on his feet. Maybe because his own gift-giving had gone largely unrewarded, if what Ted had observed from Henry was any indication. He held the man’s eye contact, Michelle cleared her throat at his side.

“And you?” she asked, pulling his attention.

“And me what?” he asked.

She smiled. “Are you in love with Rebecca?”

He blinked, looking over at Dr. Jacob, who was observing him, shrewd eyes on his body language. “Suddenly feels like we’re back in therapy, don’t it?” he asked, watching the way Dr. Jacob’s face shifted before he walked away, toward Rebecca and Henry, Rebecca brushing her fingers through the back of his head, flattening the little cowlick that never sat right.

He slowed down, if only to watch them, Henry’s head lifting to look at Rebecca when she said something, his smile wide, and then they were laughing, Rebecca laughing with him the way she laughed with him, loud, genuine, real. She caught sight of him in her peripheral vision and turned toward him, holding out a glass for him to take.

“What are we laughin’ about?” he asked, looking down at Henry.

“We were just talking about if we could spill one thing on Dr. Jacob, what would it be?” Rebecca said.

Ted tilted his head at her, exasperated, Henry giggling beside her. “I said Kool-Aid,” he said. “The red one.”

“I said green juice,” Rebecca said primly, sipping her champagne. “Apparently Dr. Jacob spilled coffee on his clothes this morning, that’s why Henry was talking about it.”

“But we aren’t going to be spillin’ anything on anyone, right?” Ted asked, Henry lifting his eyebrows and looking up at Rebecca. “I don’t like that we’re all bein’ silent right now -”

“We are not going to spill anything on anyone,” Rebecca said slowly, nodding down at Henry. “Right?”

Henry sighed. “Right.”

***

After a while, Ted realized he was getting tired of introducing people to Rebecca. He wasn’t tired of Rebecca, not in the slightest, but the cycle was starting to do him in. It was always the same - someone new would walk in, and they would say hello to Michelle and Dr. Jacob first, and when they were done with that, they would wander over to Ted.

It always started with a mildly concerned look that faded the moment their eyes fell on Rebecca. She always shook their hands, smiling, always repeated their names back to them.

How do you know my Ted? she always asked. My Ted.

The women seemed to take Rebecca one of two ways - either they thought she was charming and gazed up at her in wonder, or they took one look at her and hated her immediately. Those were the ones who came with husbands who glanced at Rebecca’s face only to stare at her chest. Whenever that happened, Rebecca would glance at him sideways before angling her entire body closer to him, laying on the loving looks and gentle touches of his arm.

He wanted to say something, when they did that, when they looked at her that way, but she always jumped in before he could speak, always distracted them with a joke, some of them ones he recognized that he’d told her himself.

“Unclench,” she murmured into his ear when the people wandered away, leaving them alone. “I knew this would happen -”

“Mmmh,” he mumbled, something close to a word but not quite. She tilted her head at him, studying his expression, before she sighed.

“When I asked you out on our first date, I had no idea you’d get so possessive,” she said quietly, teasingly. “Here -”

She took his arm, pulling his hand out of his pocket, and fit it around her waist, so his hand was resting just below the dip of her waist. He tightened his arm a little, pulling her even closer, bumping her hip against his. She exhaled a laugh, breathy and soft, and leaned her head over, resting it against his. He turned his head a little to see her better, close enough to mark the slope of her nose, the little wrinkles near her eyes from smiling.

“Rebecca, has Ted gotten you something to eat yet?” Michelle asked, pulling his attention away from Rebecca.

He looked over at her again, catching her eye. “Are you hungry, honey?” he asked.

Something in her face shifted and softened at the pet name. “Henry’s been bringing me snacks,” she said, as Henry appeared at her side. “Speaking of,” she said. “I missed you -”

“Henry, did you finish your dinner?” Michelle asked. “Jake made you a plate -”

“I’m not hungry,” Henry said, setting a little plate down on the table beside him, nudging it toward Rebecca. She stepped away from Ted and sat down beside Henry, glancing up toward Michelle.

“What if,” she said, taking a little cube of cheese off the plate and popping it into her mouth. “What if we shared this one?” she asked.

Henry looked over at the plate, shrugging before he reached over and grabbed a cracker. Rebecca looked up at Michelle, who was looking down at the both of them, before her eyes moved over to Ted.

“We’ll make sure he eats,” he said.

“Ted’s right,” Rebecca said. “Don’t worry about Henry, go spend time with the good doctor -” her eyes moved back to Ted before they found Michelle again, her smile fading a little when Michelle hesitated. “I’ll handle the Lasso boys myself.”

Michelle sighed. “If you’re sure -”

“It’s my pleasure,” Rebecca said pointedly. “They’re my favorite men.” She reached one hand over to Ted, threading their fingers together. He squeezed her hand lightly, Michelle’s hand dropping to it before she looked back up at him.

“Don’t forget, his bedtime is -”

“Nine,” Ted finished. “I remember. He’s going home with your parents.”

“I don’t want to go with Gram and Gramps,” Henry said when Michelle turned away to leave. Ted looked down at him, Rebecca nudging a strawberry toward him, smiling a little when he picked it up and nibbled on it.

“Why’s that, bud?” he asked.

Henry shrugged. “Every time Jake wants to take Mom out on a date, I have to go with Gram and Gramps, and they don’t let me watch TV, even after I do my homework.” He tugged the leaves off the strawberry, flicking them away, onto the ground beneath them. “I just want to be at home, where I can watch TV after dinner -”

“Gram and Gramps have their own rules, kiddo, sometimes that’s how it works -”

“When can I go visit you again in London?” Henry asked, Rebecca’s eyebrows shooting up before she reached for a grape, biting it in half. “Can I stay longer next time?”

Ted felt when Rebecca’s eyes found his face, studying his expression before she put her hand on Henry’s back, rubbing gently while he tried to find the right words to say I don’t know.

“Your mom and I are tryin’ to work that out,” he said carefully. “You’re always welcome to come visit me for as long as you like, as long as school and your mom allows it, you know that, right?”

Henry nodded, Rebecca standing up suddenly, brushing cracker crumbs off her skirt. “I’m going to go get you some more food,” she said to Henry, brushing some of his hair back. “Any requests?”

He shook his head, and then she was gone, weaving expertly through the crowd, disappearing, leaving Ted and Henry alone. He sat down in the same spot Rebecca had been in before, leaning his elbows back on the table.

“Dad, are you and Rebecca going to get married?”

He looked over at him, surprised. “I…don’t know,” he said cagily.

“But you love each other,” Henry replied. It wasn’t a question. Ted nodded, looking out across the dance floor, scattered with only a few couples, the music still faint. She was out of sight still, but he wished he could see her, as if seeing her would tell him the right answer. “If you love each other, you get married, right? That’s what Mom said.”

He sighed, shifting a little in his seat. “You can love people in many ways, buddy,” he said. “And all of those ways are important. You don’t have to show your love to someone by marryin’ them.”

“But when two people love each other like…like you and Mom used to…”

“You know how Mom and I got divorced,” Ted said gently, draping one arm over Henry’s shoulder, letting him look up at him, listening. “Rebecca got divorced too, and he wasn’t very nice.”

Henry frowned, the furrow in his brow so deep it nearly made Ted smile. “Did you beat him up?” he asked.

Ted breathed a laugh. “No, buddy, I didn’t -”

“Why not?”

“Violence ain’t the answer, you know that,” he said. “My point is that Rebecca might not want to get married again, because it wasn’t very fun for her last time.” Henry blinked and then nodded, the furrow in his brow easing a little. “And ultimately, I want to make her happy, you know? I want her to feel loved and safe more than anything else. Gettin’ married is just…it’s just a document. It’s just a title.”

“So you don’t…have to get married,” Henry said haltingly.

“When you love somebody the way that I love Rebecca,” Ted said, the words sticking a little in his throat before he could get them out, too earnest for him to say them nonchalantly, “then you won’t worry about throwin’ a big party to show everyone that you love each other. You just do. Every day, you -” he stopped, spotting her in the distance, talking to someone he couldn’t quite see. “Every day you give them a little piece of you to carry around and trust that they won’t break it. You don’t have to be married for that.”

Henry nodded seriously at him, his eyes fixed on him so intently Ted could see his father in them for a moment, lingering in the shape of his eyes, in his bearing.

“Do you think Mom and Jake love each other like that?” he asked quietly.

Ted blinked. “I - I don’t know,” he admitted. “I hope so.”

When Rebecca came back, her smile down at Henry tight around the mouth, he knew she was upset. He stood up to greet her, watching her set the plate down in front of Henry, all little bits of what he’d eaten off of her plate, setting another plate in front of him.

“You haven’t eaten either,” she said shortly, sitting down a space away from Henry so Ted could take his seat again. She looked out at the crowd, her jaw tight. Ted sat down beside her, glancing back at the food before he dropped his hand over hers. Immediately, she turned her hand over to hold it, squeezing hard before she relaxed.

“What happened?” he asked.

She shook her head, closing her eyes for a second before she released a breath. “One of those…women, one of Michelle’s friends, I guess, I don’t know who she was, her name was Hazel something, I don’t know -”

He remembered her from their wedding, one of Michelle’s college friends with a penchant for toerings back when they knew each other. He nodded. “What did she say?”

“She just…she made some joke about how both you and Michelle have a thing for inappropriate relationships,” she sneered, rolling her eyes. “And I just…I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to make trouble for you, you know, but what the fuck -” her eyes moved to Henry, who was meticulously breaking a piece of celery into smaller pieces, a telltale sign that he wasn’t going to eat it. “As if fucking your couples counselor and us are even remotely the fucking same, it just…pisses me off -”

“I can see that -”

“You, me, us, whatever, it’s not the fucking same,” she said sharply. “Because you didn’t come to me to ask for help in salvaging a marriage, I didn’t slide in and manipulate your wife and then take your place when you left to give her the space that he convinced her to fucking ask for -”

“Rebecca -”

“You think us being together hurt Michelle?” she demanded. “You think she stays up at night and worries about when you and I started getting too close? You think she tries to pinpoint every little thing she ever said to you, as if that’s going to explain her decision? No, she fucking doesn’t, because she wasn’t taking you into consideration -”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, scooting a little closer, pushing a little away from Henry. “I understand why you’re angry -”

“No, Ted, you don’t,” she interrupted. “You don’t, because you don’t remember talking to me about how deeply fucking hurt you are about this, or about how finding out about those two shook your confidence in everything, you don’t remember that, because when you found out those two were engaged, we coped by getting drunk.” She sighed, frustrated. “Because her choices deeply hurt you, and he broke - he broke the fucking law or something, didn’t he -”

“Hazel doesn’t know anything,” Ted said softly, one of his hands touching her hair gently, soothingly. “She just says whatever she thinks will get the biggest reaction, okay? Don’t give her another thought -”

“I’m just…I’m angry that you felt like you had to be here, putting yourself through this,” she said in exasperation. “I’m angry that they didn’t have to - to suffer like you did, I’m tired of people just skating through life like how other people feel doesn’t fucking matter! And you do so much for people - you put up with so much, and who has given you that same energy in return? Who has actually met you halfway?”

“You have,” he said quietly.

Her whirlwind of energy stopped suddenly, her eyes lifting from their joined hands to catch his gaze, her eyes dark green, intense, something a little hysterical behind everything else. She let out a breath, like she’d been holding it, and moved closer to him, letting her head fall onto his shoulder, her knees pressed against him.

“You deserve better,” she murmured. “Better than all of us.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

She moved a little closer, letting go of his hand to weave her arm around his instead. “Yes, it is,” she insisted.

“Do you wanna fight about it some more?” he asked. “That can be our thing. We just argue back and forth on this one little thing over and over again -”

She breathed a laugh that felt so painfully fond that he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, staying there to breathe in the scent of her hair, her perfume. Henry, on his other side, had stacked crackers and cheese into a Jenga tower, reluctantly taking one when Ted looked over at him.

Rebecca felt him move and followed his gaze, chuckling quietly. “Finish some more food, Henry, and we can go dance,” she said, tilting her head toward the dance floor. “Show me your moves.”

“I don’t know any moves,” Henry said, but he stuck another stack of cracker and cheese into his mouth immediately after.

“You don’t?” Rebecca asked, lifting one leg to cross her knee over Ted’s. “Your dad is one of the best dancers I know. You know he can moonwalk?”

Henry laughed. “Yeah, he does it all the time.”

“I resemble that remark -”

“And he knows the Carlton,” Rebecca listed, “And the mashed potato, I think that’s what it’s called -”

“I can waltz too, not that anyone remembers,” Ted said good-naturedly, Rebecca’s eyes swiveling over to him.

“Can you?” she asked.

“And I can two-step with the best of ‘em,” he confirmed. “I’ll teach you how to if you want -”

“She said she was going to dance with me, Dad,” Henry reminded him.

Rebecca smirked. “That’s right, I did,” she said, looking over at Ted. “But I’ll save a dance for you,” she promised.

***

Ted watched Rebecca and Henry dance, marking the warm smiles they were getting from onlookers. He had to admit, they made a sweet picture, Rebecca tall and beautiful and extravagant looking, and his son, talking quietly together, like they were telling secrets. Whatever Henry said made her laugh, and Ted watched her throw her head back, Henry beaming up at her, pleased.

Ted wondered if that was how happy he looked when Rebecca laughed at his jokes.

He could almost imagine that this was real, that Henry and Rebecca were close because she was part of the family, that she had come here as his girlfriend and not as a supportive friend who was protective of him. He wanted it so badly he felt like his heart was simultaneously breaking and putting itself back together just watching them.

“It’s so nice to see them bond, isn’t it?” Michelle’s voice startled him out of his reverie. “That’s always been my fear.”

“What has?” he asked.

“That whoever we found next might not…that Henry might not like whoever we settled down with,” Michelle said, a little haltingly. “But Henry really likes Rebecca, and Rebecca seems to really care about him.”

“But Henry doesn’t like Dr. Jacob,” Ted said simply. Michelle looked over at him, something resigned in the set of her mouth. “I’m not tryin’...I’m not tryin’ to pick a fight, it’s just…an observation.”

“I think if you were a little more accepting of him, that might help,” she said carefully. “He looks up to you -”

“I am…polite to Dr. Jacob,” Ted hedged. “It’s going to take a lot of time for me to move beyond politeness, Michelle -”

“He just wants to be accepted by Henry,” she said, a little insistently. “He’s not trying to - to replace you -”

“But he was,” Ted said before he could stop himself. He glanced over at her again, at the set of her mouth. “Wasn’t he?” When she didn’t say anything, he nodded, looking out at the dance floor again, at Rebecca, twirling Henry gracefully in a circle. “And he succeeded -”

“Ted, don’t -”

“I’ve never asked when because I don’t wanna know the answer,” he said. “But even if whatever connection you had with Dr. Jacob happened after…after I left or after we divorced, it doesn’t change that it didn’t exactly happen ethically -”

“And what about you and Rebecca?” Michelle asked, balking a little when he looked over at her. “I’ve never asked, but…you two were already close when I came to visit -”

“No, we weren’t,” he said. “We were barely more than acquaintances -”

“You made her biscuits every morning -”

“Because I was desperate to have someone on my side who wasn’t Beard,” he hissed. “Not because I was tryin’ to sleep with her -”

“If you disapprove of Jake so much, then why - why did you come?” she asked. “I thought we were moving on from this, moving past it -”

“I came because I wanted to see my son,” he said sharply. “Because I don’t get to see him as much as I’d like, because I took a job an ocean away that you encouraged me to take so you could have space to get close with our marriage counselor -”

“Ted -”

“I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing past his anger. “My - my intention is not to pick a fight, I don’t wanna do that, I just…what I’m tryin’ to say is that I will be civil with Dr. Jacob, but I’m not gonna sing his praises to Henry to get him to like him. It would be…fake, and Henry would see right through it.”

Michelle frowned.

“But I’m not gonna trash talk him either,” he said. “And who knows, maybe one day, we’ll all be great pals. But I’m just…not there yet.”

She sighed, opening her mouth to say something else, interrupted almost immediately by Henry’s voice.

“Mom, Rebecca taught me how to waltz!”

“I didn’t, really,” Rebecca said, sitting down beside Ted. “Mostly how to twirl around, but it was fun -” Her voice trailed off the moment Ted reached for her hand, her touch calming the lingering anger. She leaned a little closer, a bracing weight against his side. “Your mum might be able to give you a better lesson -”

“Do you want to dance, Mom?” Henry asked, holding out his hand like a proper gentleman, Rebecca smiling proudly. Michelle gave Ted one more glance before she accepted, putting on a smile when she looked over at Henry.

“Alright?” she asked.

Ted shrugged. “She wanted me to talk up Dr. Jacob to Henry.”

She scoffed. “Like hell.”

He nearly laughed - he cherished the easy understanding that she offered him, the way she didn’t bother to temper her genuine, honest reaction. He sighed, squeezing her hand, smiling a little when she rested her chin on his shoulder.

“She thought we were too close when she came to visit,” he said, dropping his voice. “That first time.”

She hummed. “She feels guilty,” she said reasonably. “You and I both know that you were a faithful husband.”

He nodded, his eyes landing on Michelle and Henry dancing, and then someone behind them, at the edge of the dance floor, approaching. He met Dr. Jacob’s eyes for a half-second before he looked over at Rebecca, who met his gaze easily.

He felt, when she gave him a slight nod, like she could read his mind - he put two fingers under her chin and lifted it high enough to capture her lips, her hand settling on the side of his face. Her thumb brushed over his cheek again and again, steady, grounding, reminding him of the same motion on the top of his hand, pulling him out of a panic attack outside a karaoke bar in Liverpool.

She didn’t try to deepen the kiss - she let him just press his lips to hers, a quiet hum leaving her lips, and then he was putting his hand on her face in turn, tilting her head a little with the press of his hand - he opened his mouth for her, an invitation, encouragement, and felt her smile.

And you better make it convincing.

Her hand slid to the back of his neck at the touch of his tongue against hers, her body canting toward him. She tasted like fruit and champagne, her hand and her lips and her body surrounding him so entirely he knew he would never be able to pull himself away, not completely -

He broke the kiss at the sound of someone clearing their throat, Rebecca’s eyes staying closed for a few seconds before she managed to open them. He turned toward the noise, to Dr. Jacob.

He couldn’t imagine what the man could have to say to him, what conversation they could carry on, and then Dr. Jacob held out a hand for Rebecca, whose own eyes dropped to it and then looked up at him in disbelief.

“Thought maybe we should get to know each other a little,” he explained. “If that’s…okay with you,” he directed to Ted.

“She’s a grown woman, Jake,” Ted said pointedly. “Ask her, not me.”

Dr. Jacob’s eyes moved over to Rebecca, who hesitated for a moment before taking his hand and letting him lead her out onto the dance floor. Watching them dance made him feel like someone had a hand around his neck, like every little detail of it made the tension tighter. She wasn’t enjoying herself, Ted knew that, he could see it in the rigid line of her back, but it was still Dr. Jacob’s hand on her waist, fingers curled around her hand.

He watched them talk, watched Rebecca say something harsh, almost through her teeth, and then when Dr. Jacob led her deeper into the crowd, her eyes found his and held, held for so long that he rose to his feet and walked straight across the dance floor, through the crowd, tapping Dr. Jacob lightly on the shoulder.

To his credit, the man stepped aside almost immediately, giving Ted a polite smile that he entirely ignored. Rebecca welcomed him into her arms, holding him far closer than Dr. Jacob had been allowed, her head resting against the side of his.

“Got one kiss and now you’re already back for more?” she teased, letting him lead. “I think I like possessive Ted -”

“You looked annoyed,” he explained. “And dancing with him for a minute is…polite -”

“He was talking about how nice it was to see you more like yourself,” she murmured, rolling her eyes. “That it was obvious how great of a match we are for each other.”

“That’s nice of him -”

“Fuck him,” she muttered. “I told him that it was presumptuous of him to think that he knew you at all, and I would appreciate it if he kept his assumptions about our relationship to himself.”

He stopped moving, pulling back to look at her face. She met his gaze unflinchingly, unabashedly, for a long moment before she pulled him back to his previous position. Her hand, on his shoulder, settled at the back of his neck, nails scratching gently against his skin and hair.

“When we got drunk on that tequila,” she said softly, in his ear, “you told me that you wanted to kiss me so badly that you dreamed about it.” He stopped breathing, Rebecca taking the lead, guiding him to the edge of the dance floor. “I hope it lived up to your dreams.”

He pulled back to see her expression, finding nothing deceptive in her eyes. Her gaze was so tender, so loving, he couldn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed it before, how he hadn’t realized. He stepped closer to her again, letting his hands hold her how he really wanted to, one hand dipping low on her back, his other hand pulling their joined hands to his chest.

“What else did I say?” he asked. “When we were drunk.”

The song had faded out entirely, leaving them swaying to nothing before the next song started. She rested her chin on his shoulder and sighed.

“You said that you thought us knowing each other was fate, that everything bad that ever happened had happened so we would meet,” she said. “That…” she chuckled to herself before she continued. “You said that you had other biscuit recipes on standby just in case I didn’t like shortbread -”

“Chocolate digestives didn’t sound very appetizing,” he admitted.

“And then you said that sometimes, when I look at you, I remind you that you are a man with desires, who wants to be loved and touched and craved, but you were afraid that no woman ever would again. No one who wanted to be with you in a meaningful way, anyway.”

He could hardly breathe past the pounding of his heart in his chest. “I said that?”

She nodded. “You said that.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to -”

“And I told you that you were wrong,” she said softly. “I told you that there was nothing to be afraid of, because even if you don’t love yourself, Ted, you’ll always have me.”

He stopped dancing, stopped swaying to the song that he hadn’t bothered to listen to, leaning back again to look at her. She let him, her hands still holding onto the parts of him that she could reach, waiting for him to speak.

“Rebecca -”

“Dad, can I dance with Rebecca again?” Henry’s voice startled him, and Rebecca tore her eyes away to look down at him fondly. “It’s almost bedtime -”

“In just a second -”

“Sure you can, handsome,” Rebecca said breezily, stepping back into Ted’s space long enough to kiss his cheek, lingering there for a second before she moved away, letting Henry take her hand. “Teach me some moves.”

He watched them without really seeing, his mind too preoccupied on her confession, if he could even call it a confession. Did it count if she was just telling him what he’d already told her? And he believed that he’d said it; everything she relayed to him was torn directly from the pages of his mind, word-for-word, and he realized, as Henry stepped back to show Rebecca some complicated, silly dance step, that she remembered it so well because she’d been thinking about it ever since he said it.

She’d kept it to herself, kept his secret from himself, to keep him from getting overwhelmed at a party where he was already going to be stressed. She held onto it until she couldn’t anymore, but that meant she had no one to talk to about it. He wondered if that upset her - watching him compartmentalize all of the things he told her for two weeks before they came out here, watching him fight his feelings.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her, right then. He wanted to shout it over the music, across the dance floor. But Henry had come to the party annoyed and reclusive and it had only been Rebecca who managed to get him out of his shell. He could hold it in a little while longer, couldn’t he?

He took his phone out of his pocket and texted Beard.

Ted: I’m in love with Rebecca.

Beard: I know.

He laughed, rolling his eyes.

Ted: Thanks for telling me.

He put his phone away before Beard had a chance to respond, desperate suddenly to look at her, to watch her. She was already looking at him - the song had changed to something slower, leaving her swaying with Henry, her smile soft. She held his eye, and he felt it, the same feeling she recounted to him - desire, love, like every single little dream he wanted when he thought about a perfect life was standing right across the room, dancing with his son.

What did she think of, when she looked at him?

When the song wound to a close, Rebecca let Henry lead the way back to him, her hand on his shoulder. She settled at his side, his hand naturally slipping around her waist now, like he’d already established the movement as a habit.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asked in her ear. She smiled, her eyes dropping before she nodded.

“We can take Henry by his grandparents’,” she said, flicking Henry lightly on the ear; he laughed, swatting her hand away. “Give you more time to spend with your dad, what do you think?”

“I’ll go ask Mom!”

She looked over at him when Henry was out of earshot, surveying him. “I didn’t freak you out, did I?”

Something in his face eased the tension in her face before he even spoke, her eyes reading him thoroughly. He often felt, with Michelle, that even when he explained himself out loud, something in his meaning got lost in translation. Maybe it was the thought that he needed to be translated in the first place that left him so used to being misunderstood. But with Rebecca…

He leaned over to kiss her on the lips, slowly enough that she met him halfway easily, pressed against his side, her hand falling to his tie, where she hooked two fingers, tugging lightly at it, even if it wouldn’t get him any closer, swaying a little on her feet, and Ted wondered if kissing him made her lightheaded, if he was lucky enough to make Rebecca Welton weak in the knees -

“Daaaaad,” Henry’s voice startled her; he felt her stiffen before he managed to pull away.

Rebecca exhaled, her other hand covering her mouth to hide her smile. Ted lifted his other hand to settle on top of hers, still holding onto his tie. Henry, while he’d been distracted, had collected his backpack and had it hanging off of one shoulder, his sleeves a little askew.

“Excuse me, buddy, you’ve been dancin’ with my date all night, when am I supposed to get some time with her?” he teased, ruffling his hair just enough to make him squirm good-naturedly.

“You get her forever,” Henry reminded him, so simply that Ted could do nothing but accept it.

“Yeah, Ted,” Rebecca sing-songed, tugging on his tie one last time before she let go. “Listen to your boy.”

***

Ted almost didn’t ask - he wasn’t sure, even as he was asking the question, if he wanted to know the answer. But still, he sat on the right side of the backseat, Henry in the middle, Rebecca on the other side, and asked anyway.

“Your mom mentioned to me that maybe you aren’t feelin’...super comfortable with Jake,” he said cautiously, Rebecca’s head turning toward him at the sound of the man’s name. Henry shrugged. “Has he…has he said anythin’ that makes you uncomfortable? Has he done anything wrong?”

Henry shrugged again. Ted sighed, looking over at Rebecca, who gave him an encouraging look. She reached her arm over the seat, over Henry, her fingertips touching the back of Ted’s head before she took her hand back.

“I’m not gonna be angry or upset at you,” Ted said gently. “And you know, it’s totally normal to feel a little…uneasy about someone new comin’ into your life -”

“He’s a loser -”

“Okay, well, we don’t have to resort to name-callin’ -”

“All he does is buy me presents and go with Mom to my football games but he doesn’t even care when he’s there, and he doesn’t even buy me Legos,” Henry grumbled. “And he talks to me like he’s my dad, but he’s not my dad. You are.”

“Yeah,” Ted said, the sentence bolstering him a little. “So you don’t like Jake because -”

“He’s a loser -”

“Let’s move away from the name-calling,” he said, trying not to look at Rebecca, who covered her mouth with the back of her hand to hide her smile. “You don’t like Jake because it feels like maybe he’s tryin’ to buy your affection?”

“And his presents suck.”

“Don’t say suck,” Ted said weakly. “I understand why that might not make him very…likable.”

“I heard Mom and Jake talking about how they didn’t want you to find out,” Henry said. “And you always told me that if I did something I didn’t want to tell you about, it’s because I already know that it’s wrong.”

Ted sighed.

“So why would I like him?” he asked. “I don’t even get to hang out with Mom as much now because he’s always there.”

“But Jake has always been nice to you, hasn’t he?” Rebecca asked curiously. “He hasn’t been mean to you, he hasn’t hurt you?”

Henry looked over at her. “No, he’s nice,” he said reluctantly.

“Is that one of the reasons why you want to come visit me for longer next time?” Ted asked carefully. “Because your mom is hanging out with Jake more than you?”

He shrugged. “You and Uncle Beard make me pancakes and take me to football matches. We play with Legos. Rebecca takes us to Abbey Road. Here I just go to practice and go to Gram’s and they don’t let me watch TV -”

“Right,” Ted said thoughtfully. “Tell you what, I’m gonna talk to your mom about you comin’ to visit for longer next time. I’m gonna let her know that you’re feelin’ a bit neglected, that she should spend some more time with you, okay? Is that alright, if I tell her that?”

Henry sighed, nodding. Ted watched his eyes settle on something out the window, and when he looked, he realized the car was already pulling up to Michelle’s parents’ house.

He got out of the car to hug him goodbye, lifting his son up into his arms to swing him around one more time before he let him go. When he set him down, Rebecca was there, a soft little oof leaving her mouth when Henry vaulted himself at her, hugging her tightly around the waist. She leaned down, leaving him a little momentary kiss on the top of his head, and then Henry was gone, going up the steps to the house, turning around one more time to wave goodbye.

***

Rebecca didn’t speak the rest of the drive back to the hotel - he kept expecting their silence to turn awkward, or tense, as if she had somehow taken offense to something he’d done since they left the party, but the silence was just that - quiet. They didn’t speak, but she didn’t seem angry, and she didn’t seem sad. It had been a long time since he was comfortable in silence that didn’t come from Beard.

She took his hand when they got into the elevator, squeezing it lightly without looking over at him. He studied her profile, waiting. He could practically see how hard she was trying to force her thoughts into words, her demeanor completely different from the confident, sensual Rebecca he’d been talking to since they left London.

“I think you’re a really fantastic father,” she said finally, so soft the words brought tears to his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

“Oh,” he said, looking away. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for letting me spend time with Henry,” she said, and he heard just the barest hint of a quiver in her voice. “It isn’t lost on me how precious that time is.”

He looked over at her again, tugging her over, closer to him by the hand he was already holding, and released her hand to wrap both arms around her, holding her the same way he did outside of the gala, back when he hardly knew her, except this time, there was no hesitation before she was holding him, too, and she wasn’t crying, she wasn’t sad. It was just…love.

“Rebecca, I -”

The elevator door dinged open, and she stepped back, her eyes lingering on him, waiting for him to speak. He led her out of the elevator instead of finishing his sentence, letting her fall into step beside him. She released his hand to open her door, leaving him to open his own, and then, after one more look, she was gone.

The rooms had been cleaned while they were gone, the conjoining doors closed instead of left open the way they’d been that morning.

He heard Rebecca’s door open, followed almost immediately by the sound of her shoes walking away from it. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his closed door. He could still feel the sentiment, the I love you lingering in his chest, a confession unsaid that he knew would weigh on him until he said the words out loud. He was terrible at keeping secrets, at holding himself back. That was part of the reason why his marriage fractured, in the end, he supposed. He held back the things he should have let go of, and offered too much of everything else.

But hadn’t he already done all the confessing? When he was drunk? What was there to be afraid of now?

He stood up and strode over to the door, pulling it open just as Rebecca lifted her hand to knock on it.

“Holy shit, Ted,” she muttered, her hand falling to her chest, startled.

“Sorry,” he said, a little hesitantly. She tilted her head at him, considering his expression. “Come in.”

She obliged, stepping past him into the room, looking around as if it wasn’t identical to hers next door, her feet bare. She sighed, turning back toward him. “I heard a song, at that party,” she said. “It’s one of the…the only country songs I ever heard when I was younger.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, following after her into the empty space between the drawers and the bed. “What was it?”

“I wanted to dance with you,” she said. “But I was getting Henry food, and then that Hazel person was talking to me, and by the time I got back to you, it was over -”

“What was it?” he asked.

She cleared her throat, catching his eye, and he smiled, anticipatory joy settling over him immediately at the thought of her singing. She stepped closer, putting one hand on his shoulder, settling her other hand in his.

“When the sun goes down, on my side of town -”

“Oh, not Neon Moon,” he said, smiling when she laughed. “Hold on.”

He stepped away to pick up his phone, turning on the song, letting it play quietly. She welcomed him back into her arms, letting him lead. Her head dipped, looking down at how close they were, and then she was looking back up at him, tilting her chin up to look into his eyes. He leaned his forehead against hers, smiling when her whole face softened, her eyes falling closed at the sensation.

He thought he’d seen every side of Rebecca - he thought there was a limited number of sides people could have, that experiences filled those slots and made them entire portions of their personality. But there was something new in Rebecca now, in the softness that came over her face, the shuddering little sigh she let out.

“I hope you know, now,” she said tentatively, “that everything I did out there, when I was pretending to be your girlfriend, was real.”

Her eyes were still closed. He wondered if she couldn’t bear to look at him.

“And that wasn’t very honest of me, and I’m sorry,” she continued. “But I couldn’t help myself.”

He released her hand to put his palm on the side of her face, both of her hands flat on his chest now. She opened her eyes, looking up at him - whatever she saw in his face made her smile, something tender and quiet.

“I just love you,” she said simply, like it was a truth etched into stone long before she’d been born. It held the same heaviness of a Commandment, of the laws of gravity and everything else. He didn’t doubt her for a second.

He realized, as they stopped swaying, that it was the first time he’d ever heard a woman say she loved him and didn’t doubt it.

“I wanted…I wanted to show you that you are loved, and - and desired, and more than that, I wanted to protect you. From yourself as much as from everyone’s prying eyes and their gossip. I should have been honest with you from the beginning, but I didn’t want you to be concerned with what I thought of you while you were dealing with everything else -”

“You don’t - Rebecca, it’s -” he stopped when she stopped, the song ending, another one starting. He stepped away from her to turn it off before he came back. “It’s okay.”

She just looked at him, as if she knew what else he had to say.

“I love you, too.”

He watched her let out a breath, her lips twitching in an almost smile before she dropped her gaze. How many times had he seen shyness on Rebecca’s face? Not often enough for it to be familiar to him.

“Did you want to sing some Aladdin?” he asked, just to make her laugh. She didn’t answer, and the silence carried on for a little while before he spoke again.

“Truthfully, I’d rather kiss you again,” he admitted, her laugh melting away. “Aladdin can wait.”

“Oh,” she said, pleased. “Don’t let me stop you, then -”

She was in the middle of a laugh when he caught her lips, one of his hands sliding into her hair, tilting her head up, her breathy sigh an encouragement; she tightened her hand around his tie when his tongue slipped into her mouth, pulling him back toward the bed, stumbling over her own feet, over his shoes.

She turned him around so his knees hit the edge of the mattress instead of hers, pulling away long enough to push him gently back. He fell back onto the bed, kicking off his shoes, her eyes watching it happen before she climbed up after him, lingering above him for only a few seconds before she collapsed onto the bed beside him.

He turned over onto his side and pulled her closer, his thumb on her chin, kissing her until the drag of his tongue made her moan against his mouth - he let his hand leave her face to find her waist, holding for only a moment before he explored the curve of her hip, down to her leg, her knee hooking over his hip.

He pushed her onto her back, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at her, her hair splayed out over the pillow. Her face was flushed pink, her lipstick a little smeared, but it was her eyes that nearly did him in. He was used to being nearly breathless when she looked at him, but her eyes now were dark, a deep, swirling miasma of love and lust and so much desire he could hardly believe it was because of him.

One of her hands found his waist, the other on his face, into his hair. She bit her lip, her eyes roving over his expression.

“Did you dream about this, too?” she asked.

He hummed, using his nose to tilt her chin up, pressing his lips to her pulse point, and then farther down, down the column of her throat. She let out a breathy laugh, moving underneath him, encouraging him to plant one knee between her legs, pulling him entirely over her.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” she said softly, breathlessly. He kept kissing down her neck, feeling the trembles in her hands, the shakiness in her breath. “Are you going to tell me what we did in your dream?”

He nipped the muscle between her neck and shoulder, smiling when she startled. “Which dream specifically?” he asked.

Her hands moved to his jacket, pushing it down his arms until he had to sit up and pull it off entirely. He threw it away, her eyes following it before they came back to him, closing when he leaned down for another kiss.

“So there are more dreams,” she breathed. “We’ll have to do them all, won’t we?”

He hooked one of the straps of her dress and inched it down her shoulders, marking the way she breathed, the hitch in the sound. When he looked up at her, she was watching him, eyes half-lidded. He touched her face, thumb brushing over her bottom lip.

“Tell me what happened in your dream,” she said.

He eased her legs apart, settling between them, chuckling when she shifted, tugging the thin skirt higher, high enough that it wasn’t pinned underneath him. She kept her eyes on him, waiting. He nearly wanted to reach over to the lamp and turn the light off, but then she laid her leg over his back, and her skirt inched up a bit more, and he couldn’t imagine not being able to see her.

“They’re all…a blur,” he said, tugging down the other strap of her dress, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “But in all of them, you’re always…”

She lifted her head off the pillow when he trailed off, too busy pressing kisses over the swell of her breasts, her dress slowly inching down with every heaving breath.

“I’m always what?” she asked.

“Saying my name,” he said. “It’s always dark, but you’re always - always holding onto me, always saying my name -”

She pushed him down onto the bed, crawling over him, straddling his hips, her hand reaching back to tug down the zipper of her dress. “You must be really making me feel good, then,” she teased, pulling her arms out of the straps, leaving the dress hanging, barely covering her, her hands reaching down for his tie, pulling him up, both arms wrapping around her waist to keep her steady.

“If I wasn’t in my dream, then I think I have bigger problems,” he remarked, and she laughed against his mouth when she leaned in to kiss him again, tugging his tie free and undoing some of the buttons on his shirt.

“Take my dress off, Ted,” she said, and the sound of his name while she was out of breath made him stop breathing for a second before he could work his hands again. All he had to do was tug it up and over her head, leaving her in nothing but her underwear, the same color as the dress.

He gave her control, letting her push him back down onto the bed, her fingers still undoing button after button on his shirt until she was pulling open, her hands finding his bare chest, her hum deep and rich against his mouth. He let his hands explore while his eyes were closed, his hands trailing over her soft skin, fingertips brushing over her nipples, her soft gasp into his mouth nearly making him dizzy.

He gave her teasing touches, relishing in the sounds she made, sitting up again to push her back onto the bed to shrug his shirt off. He crawled off of her entirely to undo his pants, leaving him in just his boxers, her eyes drinking him in unabashedly. He planted one knee on the bed, between her legs, still standing above her. She kept her eyes on him even when his hand landed on her leg, inching upward.

“Ted,” she said, a breathless warning.

“Now that’s not quite how you said it,” he said, letting two of his fingers tease her over her underwear, relishing in the way her hips chased it, the way her eyes fluttered closed. “But I like it that way, too -”

“Take them off -”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, letting her lift her hips to make it easier, dropping the scrap of lace over the side of the bed. Still, he didn’t get back on the bed yet - he stopped to look, one of his hands teasingly running up her bare skin, watching the way her chest expanded with every breath, her blush extending down her chest.

She didn’t try to rush him - she let him touch, the teasing little brushes of his hand leaving her breathless, her eyes fluttering closed whenever he found the right spot, one of her hands reaching for him, settled on his hip when that was all she could reach, the other fisted in the sheets underneath her.

“In my dream,” he said, and she caught his gaze immediately, “We were always…in some kinda hurry. There was…it was as if there wasn’t enough time, there was never enough time.”

She moaned a little when his fingers pushed her thighs apart, teasing her.

“But we have plenty of time now.”

She held his gaze when he pressed one finger inside of her, her mouth dropping open. She shifted her hips to take him deeper, her hand tightening on his hip, trying to pull him onto the bed with her. He resisted, slowly adding another finger, watching how her back arched when he curled them, her surprised gasp melting into a moan, louder than before.

Everything he dreamed of was going to fall short of the reality, he could tell by the way she touched him, by the desperation in her voice when he leaned down to kiss her, pleading against his lips for more, faster, please -

It was easy to understand her body - she didn’t hold anything back, not from him, so finding what she liked, how she liked it, it all felt like it came naturally to him, like they’d done this a thousand times before, but that wasn’t possible, because he would’ve remembered, he wouldn’t have taken so long to tell her that he loved her -

He watched her come with bated breath, her whole body shuddering with pleasure, her voice breaking over his name, so desperate and needy that he could hardly stand pulling away to let her catch her breath. He settled onto the bed beside her, letting his fingertips doodle vague designs on the bare skin of her stomach while she came back to herself, watching every little movement, every unsteady breath.

He pressed kiss after kiss to the side of her head, to her cheek, and then down her neck, whispering praises into her ear, smiling when her hand found his chest again.

“You’re good at that,” she murmured, her voice a little rough. He sat up, tugging her over with one arm, moving her whole body across the mattress to the middle, smiling when she yelped, swatting lightly at him. He pushed her knees apart again, settling between them, leaning down to take one nipple into his mouth and then the other, her gasp shifting into a moan, her hands clutching impatiently at him.

She dug her nails into his side when he started moving down her torso, pressing kisses to her ribs, her stomach, her hips, settling onto his stomach between her legs. She sat up on her elbows to watch, her hair falling into her face.

“Fuck,” she said softly when he kissed the inside of her thigh. He glanced back up at her, at her head tipped back, her eyes closed. He couldn’t breathe, looking at her now, flushed and glowing, nearly undone. He lifted one of her legs, hooking her knee over his shoulder, pressing at the muscle with the pad of his fingers before he leaned down to taste her, groaning when she collapsed back onto the bed, one of her hands finding his hair and holding.

She was still quivering from before, her breathing shallow, desperate. He loved how expressive she was, how vocal she was, different from how he imagined she would be. He had no doubt that she was only like this because she loved him, because he made her feel comfortable, safe, like he always hoped he would.

She laid her other leg over his shoulder, her hand in his hair sliding down the side of his face, pinned between her thigh and him, a surprisingly tender touch. He slowed the rhythm of his tongue, feeling how she sighed, how it turned into a gasp, her hips matching every push and pull, her breathing deliberate now.

“Ted,” she said, soft, desperate, pleading, and he groaned, her thighs tightening around him. She lifted her hips when he flicked his tongue over her clit, keeping him exactly where she wanted it, how she wanted it, and he nearly smiled when she pushed herself over the edge, this orgasm louder, longer, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

He kept lapping at her until she squirmed away, over-sensitive, coughing when she tried to catch her breath. She held onto his hand with her own, her fingers limp, her eyes pressed closed. He settled onto the bed beside her again, watching the expressions dance over her face before they settled. When she looked over at him, she breathed a weak laugh, covering her face with her other hand.

“If your dreams were anything like this,” she said, a little teasingly, “I take offense that we haven’t done this before.”

He laughed, watching her sit up, her eyes drifting down his body. “This is better than the dream,” he said.

She found his gaze again, holding it. She didn’t say anything - he could see that she wasn’t sure what to say. She tugged his boxers down, wrapping her hand around him, achingly hard, and stroked, gently but steadily, pulling her bottom lip into her teeth again. He bit back the sound that rose in his throat, and felt her eyes on his face immediately.

“Don’t be quiet,” she commanded softly.

He let her push him to the middle of the bed, swinging one leg over his hips. She touched his face gently with one hand, holding his gaze as she lowered herself onto him. When he gasped, she smiled, her mouth falling open the deeper she took him, her thighs shaking. He put both hands on her hips, feeling how she tilted them back to take him deeper, to keep her balance.

The first movement of her hips drove all thought free from his mind - he couldn’t do anything but say her name, soft, reverent, one of her hands falling over his on her hips, the other landing on his chest. He relished in the weight that she put into her hand, into his chest, the pressure of her body, the way it kept him grounded even while every move of her hips threatened to drive him mad.

At first, she moved almost painfully slow, her breathing deep, calculated. And then he planted his feet and met her for every thrust and her hand left his to hold onto the headboard, her moan higher pitched than before, her breathing shallow. He trailed his hand up her side to her breasts, pinching one of her nipples lightly between his fingers, her rhythm faltering.

He pushed her up a little higher on her knees, giving him more leverage to drive up into her - she took her other hand off his chest to hold onto the headboard, relinquishing control entirely to him, breathless, her eyes falling closed.

He didn’t last long after that - he had spent too long holding back, too much time keeping himself in check - the moment that he was finished, she collapsed on top of him, her body hot, so warm that he could feel the sweat trapped between their bodies. Still, he didn’t want to move either.

He settled one arm over her and stayed still, listening to her breathing and the pounding of his heart, a bizarre soundtrack. Eventually, he tipped her over onto her side, still holding onto her, her legs around his waist, her head against his.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she said after a long bout of silence, pulling back, stretching all of her limbs like a cat before she went limp, turning on her side, every movement sluggish, slow, exhausted. “You’re incredible.”

“Takes one to know one, Boss,” he said nonsensically, chuckling weakly when she laughed. “In a minute, when I’m sure I can stand on my own two feet, I’m gonna get in the shower. I can make room for you, if you want.”

She nodded, her eyes drifting shut. “Yes, please,” she murmured.

***

When Ted woke the next morning, he and Rebecca were in the same spot as the night before, naked on top of the sheets, clothes scattered around the room, the lamp still on. He breathed a weak laugh, looking over at Rebecca, who was still sleeping soundly, her mascara smeared a little around her eyes.

He rolled himself out of bed, testing the soreness of his muscles, and went to the other side of the bed, where Rebecca was sleeping. He scooped her up into his arms, the movement jostling her awake, his hand hooking on the duvet when he picked her up. He set her right back down, with enough room to pull the duvet over her, and returned to her side, her eyes taking him in blearily.

“What time is it?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said. “Doesn’t matter, go back to sleep.”

She hummed, draping an arm over his naked waist, burrowing closer to his side, her forehead against his chest. “You didn’t wake me up for a shower,” she said.

He shook his head. “You exhausted me.”

She chuckled. “I know the feeling,” she said.

He watched her settle, the faint smile fading from her face as she got comfortable again. He was just about to drift off himself when she spoke again.

“I was thinking we could take Henry out for some barbecue today, before we got on the jet back home,” she murmured. “Let you get some more father-son time in.” She stretched a little, yawning. “What do you think?”

He smiled. “I think that I love you,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Takes one to know one, Coach Lasso.”