Archive of Our Own

“It’s mighty kind of ya to want to write about the ‘Lasso Way,’ but are you sure you’ve got enough to fill an entire book?”

Ted, as he’s done every day for the past two days, is starting his morning sitting at his desk across from Trent Crimm. The reporter, who had found himself without a publication in which to write at the end of the previous season, had first pitched the idea to Ted about three months ago.

At first, Ted felt excited, thinking it would focus more on AFC Richmond as a whole. An eager Keeley and reassuring Higgins convinced him it would be good publicity for the team at worst and an opportunity to highlight the importance of mental health in sports at best.

He wishes now he’d had a more in depth conversation with Rebecca about her thoughts and feelings on the matter, but they weren’t exactly talking a lot back then. Ted is glad things have taken a turn.

While in Kansas for the off-season, he realized just how much he missed her – their conversations, being able to see her every day. The idea of returning to that distance this season felt unbearable.

So, he reached out. Sent a picture of himself working in his mother’s garden, complaining about the blazing heat of the sun, wistful for London showers. He hadn’t noticed how late it was back home in Richmond when he first hit send, and wanted to kick himself when he realized.

Not one to leave him hanging, Rebecca had responded with a purple heart and his initial panic subsided. The next day, she sent a selfie back to him of her standing in her own, far more pristine garden. Whether it was her work or that of a professional landscaping company, Ted didn’t know, but he was impressed nonetheless.

Pictures turned into questions into conversation. More ‘what are you seeking out of life’ and less firsts and silly stories. Although Ted was nervous that seeing her in person would bring the progress to a halt, they started growing even closer once he touched down on this side of the Atlantic.

Except for two days ago when she’d gone radio silent.

“Everyone has a lot to say and has been more than welcoming,” Trent says, appraising Ted with one brow raised. “But there is somebody I’d like to sit down with and have a more in depth discussion.”

Hopping out of his chair, his hands slapping down on the desk, Ted taps his fingers in what he hopes is casual nonchalance. He knows who the person in question is, and he also knows there are several good reasons why Rebecca wouldn’t want to be interviewed about Ted’s tenure at the club.

From the less than ideal reason she hired him in the first place, to her questionable relationship with a certain star player, well, Ted didn’t want her to have to go through the whole ordeal again either.

“She’s got some tall fences to hop over,” Ted says, clearing his throat. “It ain’t easy, but it’s sure worth it in the end.”

“I’ve heard from multiple sources that if I want a conversation with Rebecca Welton, Ted Lasso is my best way in. You wouldn’t happen to have any tips or tricks to get her to open up?”

Following Trent’s line of sight, Ted realizes his own hand is lingering over a familiar pink box. He pulls back, but knows it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“She uh-, didn’t she sit down with you on that first day?”

“I got a handshake, two sentences on why you’re the best man for the job, and a gift basket passed into my arms on my way out the door.”

Ted’s head lifts in surprise. “What did she say about- You know what,” he shakes himself out of following that particular impulse. “That don’t matter. A gift basket is awfully kind of her.”

“Full of unsharpened pencils and notebooks.”

“Real, uh, thoughtful,” Ted swallows. “Reflects on someone’s interest and runs with it.”

Motioning to the door, Trent stands. “Are you on your way up to her office?”

Ted pauses to consider. On one hand, he doesn’t enjoy lying. On another, he misses Rebecca and knows all he’s in for is stilted conversation if Trent tags along. Deciding it would be far too awkward if he got caught sneaking up to her office after saying no, Ted nods. Grabbing the box of biscuits as a peace offering, he leads the way upstairs.

When they arrive, Rebecca’s at her desk. One hand is cupped under her chin, eyes concentrating on the laptop screen. At Ted’s knocking, she whips up her head, mouth curving into a smile. Entranced, he watches as she pushes back her chair and stands. It hits him in the gut when her smile falters, but a clearing of a throat from behind him brings some much needed clarity.

Rebecca offers Trent a nod, her eyes downcast, before ushering them into her office with what Ted recognizes as reluctant politeness. When he lifts a hand to pass her the biscuits, she grabs them from him, opens the lid, and stuffs the entirety of one into her mouth in one motion.

Eyes rolling to the back of her head, she plops herself down on the coach, moaning a soft “fuck me.” Unable to help himself, Ted smiles. At least one thing hasn’t changed.

Turning toward Trent to explain the biscuits, Ted’s stomach drops in a different way, noting a slight smirk on the other man’s face, his eyes set on Rebecca with fascinated curiosity. Before Ted can open his mouth to cut off the other man’s train of thought, Trent motions between Ted and Rebecca who are at next to each other on the couch, bodies turned toward the other, opposite the reporter. “What’s all this, then?”

Face reddening, Ted says, “Biscuits with the Boss? A bit of catch up before we start the day.”

“Every day-?” Trent starts, but Rebecca stands abruptly, dusting off the crumbs that had fallen into her lap.

“Sorry, gentlemen, but I have a meeting with some minority stakeholders who don’t care to be kept waiting. We’ll have to pick this up at a different time.”

Trent stands with a shrug of his shoulders, but doesn’t make any movements toward the door. “Can I hold you to that?”

To her credit, Rebecca doesn’t let the smile plastered on her face falter. Ted wonders if Trent notices it doesn’t reach her eyes. He also happens to know that the minority stakeholders meeting in question was yesterday morning and there wouldn’t be another one until next month. Sensing not to question her, he needs to get Trent out of the office fast.

“Righty-o, then, Mr. Crimm. Let’s see what the boys got for us for training today.”

They make it back down to the locker room without another word. Ted regrets dragging the team, especially Rebecca, into this whole ordeal. Annoyance at the situation he’s gotten them into rises, agitation at missing out on the third day in a row of actual conversation with her.

“The biscuits-” Trent starts. “Are an everyday thing?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Ted tries to play it off with a wave of his hand. “Only on days that end with ‘y.’”

“Does she react like that every time?”

At the implication in Trent’s tone, Ted scratches at the back of his neck, swipes the tendril of his hair that’s always falling in his face away from his eyes.

“She’s got a huge sweet tooth.”

“Is it in your contract to–?”

“No, no, no,” Ted says quickly. “I like to do it.”

“Only for her?” Ted can only nod. “You don’t think that’s a lot? Biscuits every day. For your boss?”

At Ted’s silence, Trent laughs, not unkindly, as he walks off in search of his next interview. Heart racing, hands twitching, Ted’s periphery narrows. Biscuits every day do seem like a lot without any context.

Going on three years now, Rebecca still responds with as much enthusiasm as she did the first time she bit into one. Even more so now that she’s not trying to use him as a tool to sabotage the team. Had even devoured every crumb of the batch he made with more salt than sugar.

With a deep breath, Ted tries to block out the thoughts of “too much” and “pull back” ringing in his ears. For now, he’ll try to keep the biscuits between just the two of them.

“Ted Lasso is a tremendous asset to this team and his players,” Rebecca says to Trent on his first day of interviews. “AFC Richmond is lucky to have him on our side.”

Trent stares at her. “Is that all you have to say?”

“He’s an excellent employee. Never a dull moment with Coach Lasso.”

“Reb- Miss Welton,” he corrects himself. “As the one who initiated this unlikely hire, and as someone as Ted himself described as his ‘partner in crime and B-F-F,’ your input to this book is invaluable. There’s nothing else you can offer?”

“B-F-?” she starts, but shakes her head. “Not at this time,” she says, and the man finally relents. He walks out with a perplexed expression at the gift basket she hands him.

The last thing Rebecca needs is a reporter poking around her club. Not only does she have a business to run, but she has a string of mistakes hovering over her that she does not want to get out to the public.

She knows Ted would never reveal that he’d been hired under false pretenses. Keeley too, though she’s around much less these days. Higgins might be a tad looser lipped by mere accident alone, but she hasn’t let him be alone with Trent for more than five minutes.

Sam she’s less sure about. Not that he’d intend to do damage, but he never quite understood just how scandalous their affair was. So kind and well-intentioned, but young and naïve. He wears their previous relationship as a badge of honor while she considers him to be a mistake.

She lost focus of her position of power when it came to Sam and wants to rectify that without everyone knowing they had a torrid affair.

Before Trent, things had been on the upswing. Rebecca was hard at work, her feelings for Sam sorted. Ted was not only talking to her again, but seeking out her company. Watching him stride into her office, a question on his lips, her beloved biscuits in hand, felt like a warm hug.

Of the friendly variety, of course. If there’s one thing Rebecca is working on this season, it’s maintaining professional boundaries. Not that she needs them with Ted for any particular reason.

Which is why, it’s a bit of a shock when Trent witnessing the biscuit exchange feels like a thing. It occurs to her, when watching through an outsider’s perspective, that maybe her reaction shouldn’t be to moan with heady suggestion and then beg her gaffer to ‘fuck her.’

Although the words were aimed at the rush of sugar, not him. How embarrassing that a mixture of butter and sugar has such a hold over her. She must at least attempt to reel it in.

After the awkward start to the morning, Rebecca spends the rest of the day thinking of how to talk to Ted about Biscuits with the Boss without making it seem like she thinks it’s a thing.

Unable to sleep, she gets to the club early and finds Trent waiting for her outside the door. With a sigh, she lets him follow her in, feels his eyes on her as she goes about her morning routine. When she sits at her desk, he cocks his head in waiting. Two can play that game, so she meets his eyes and offers a tight smile.

“The Biscuits–?” he starts.

“Hi-dy ho. Good morning, Bo-”

They all appear to be of the same mind on the early start, but not on avoiding an audience. Ted’s eyes set on hers, he notices Trent too late, unsubtle as ever in stuffing the box of biscuits he has in his hands behind his back. So, he thinks it’s a thing too.

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for any prolonged conversation this morning,” Rebecca says as she stands. Trent’s smirk is wide as he walks out of her office, leaving Ted behind, staring at her with wide-eyed disappointment.

Every part of Rebecca wants to step closer and take the box Ted extends to her. He looks between her and his hand, his mouth open, wanting to say something, but words escaping him.

“Have a good training, coach,” she says, turning fully away from him to return to her desk, her hands empty.

When she sits down and dares to look up, he’s gone. Rebecca tells herself this is situational and temporary, not the same as last year’s divide.

By the end of the day, a headache, which must be from the lack of a usual sugar fix, reaches its peak. Wanting nothing more than to go home and open a bottle of wine, she hopes it’s enough to forget about the phantom taste of biscuits lingering on her tongue. With the building dark and quiet, Rebecca thinks it’s safe to open her door and make a run for it.

On the other side, she’s met with an arm raised intent on knocking and her heart soars, thinking of Ted always knowing what she needs, when she needs it. Upon seeing the reporter, a sigh almost escapes, but she bites it back last minute.

Trent starts with, “About this morning-” but the sound of pounding footsteps coming up the stairs distracts them both. A familiar, much desired pink box, leads a tired Ted. His eagerness turns to sheepishness when he spots them in the doorway.

Pushing past the men, she leads them out of the club without a word. The walk to the carport is awkward and silent. On a normal night, the flow of conversation between her and Ted would have led them into dinner for two at the Crown and Anchor. Instead, she drives off alone with a half-hearted wave goodbye.

Calling out sick the following morning would be cause for even more suspicion, which is the only thing that prevents Rebecca from doing so. There’s no Trent waiting for her at her office door, no sign of Ted all morning. In his stead, a flummoxed Higgins makes his way upstairs with the pink box. A craving for the buttery goodness strikes, but without the gaffer who baked them, she can’t bring herself to accept it.

At his raised eyebrow, she says, “Not feeling too well this morning, Leslie.”

Looking between her and the biscuits, the man opens the lid, picks up one of the treats, and takes a hesitant and small bite. Rebecca has to fight the urge to pounce on him and force every last crumb out of his mouth. Something about Leslie eating her biscuits seems incredibly wrong and inspires an urge to vomit.

He must think so too because he makes one of his noises and drops the rest of the biscuits into the trash outside her door, scurrying off without another word. Rebecca lasts an hour until she realizes she cannot physically keep restraining herself from grabbing them from the bin. For her dignity alone, she calls Keeley for a lunch out and prays the bin is emptied before she returns.

At the restaurant, Rebecca tries to focus all of her attention on her friend, but Keeley has other plans.

“Holy shit, babes. What the fuck happened to you?”

Rebecca looks up from her menu. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re fit as usual, but you also look wrecked. And not in a I-got-gloriously-shagged-last-night-and-maybe-even-this-morning sort of way.”

Sighing, Rebecca drops the menu and takes a long sip from her wine. “Trent Crimm has overtaken my club.”

“Afraid you’ll say something about Ted that you can’t take back?” At Rebecca’s gaping, Keeley laughs. “After I stopped working at the club every day, all these little things I noticed before but never tracked started to add up. The whole biscuits thing, for instance.”

“Is it really a thing?” Rebecca asks as her face falls into her hands.

Keeley cackles. “How eager he always is to bring them to you? How filthily you stuff them in your mouth? It’s a big thing.”

Not knowing whether to be deeply embarrassed, angry, or ashamed, Rebecca settles on all three as her face flames red. Daring a glimpse through splayed fingers, she spies a gleeful Keeley.

“It’s unhinged, Rebecca. Honestly, good for you. Set your sights on the real thing though, yeah?”

Taking a breath to collect herself, Rebecca sits up to her tallest height and reaches for her water, gulping it down in an attempt to control her body temperature.

“I’ve taken a break from biscuits, actually,” she says, her voice breaking on ‘biscuits.’

Having way too much fun at the entire situation for Rebecca’s liking, Keeley’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh?”

Clearing her throat, Rebecca says, “That much butter and sugar every day is not-”

“Oh my God, Rebecca.”

Rebecca looks around in alarm. “What?” Her stomach drops when she sees the size of the smile gracing her friend’s face.

“Trent Crimm knows about the biscuits, doesn’t he?”

Not for the first time in her life, Rebecca is grateful to a waiter for making a timely appearance at the table. Greeting him with a wide smile and a pointed look at Keeley, she tells him with ardent enthusiasm that yes, they are ready to order. The conversation is not over, she’s certain, but she’s appreciative for the delay.

Ted is fairly certain the only reason Rebecca rejected the biscuits yesterday is due to Trent Crimm. Which is why, when he checks in with Higgins after asking him to deliver the box to Rebecca, he doesn’t understand why his friend can’t meet his eyes. The man blushes, makes a strange noise, and runs off. With Trent distracted by trying to interview a less than enthusiastic Roy at lunchtime, Ted sneaks up to check on Rebecca himself.

Finding the office empty, he starts to head back downstairs when he spies the pink box on top of the trash. A little prodding reveals all three biscuits still inside and intact. With no Trent Crimm to blame, it seems there’s something more to Rebecca’s sudden lack of interest in his biscuits than having an audience.

Just a week ago, Ted would have felt comfortable enough to ask for an explanation. Mostly because he’s concerned for Rebecca and doesn’t want her to deprive herself of something he thought she loves. It doesn’t help that a large part of Ted is afraid that he might have been too obvious with the feelings he’s been trying to tamp down these past few months.

He never intended for them to flourish out of his control. Feeling a burst of excitement at seeing a friend every morning turned into the realization that he had a little, and then not so little, crush on his boss. Identifying Rebecca, objectively, as a pretty woman, versus the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach that tells him she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his life.

Out on the pitch at training, he hopes she might call down to him. Pushed up shoulder to shoulder in a booth at the pub celebrating a win, he wonders what it would be like to take her hand under the table. His heart sings when he makes her laugh or roll her eyes with fond exasperation.

The feelings make his life harder, but the last thing he wants is for them to affect her or the relationship they do have.

They’d not only been growing closer on an emotional level, but physically. Her fingers graze his arm when they sit on her couch, he’s gifted a brief hug goodbye on nights they go to dinner. A pat on the back lingers after a particularly stressful meeting. Ted has begun to consider, if he were able to work up the courage, asking her if she is feeling something deeper between them too.

His answer comes in the form of his biscuits in the trash. Thankfully, he hadn’t the time to make a complete fool out of himself. Message very much received, he thinks.

Knowing now how she feels about him and his feelings, he hopes it’s easier to get a better handle on himself going forward. Ted decides to back off on the biscuits and the visits to her office, and to give her the space she needs.

Heart in his throat, wondering if it would be kinder to them both if he just quit, Ted flops down in his chair, meeting an unwrapped sandwich on his desk and the sight of his best friend across from him.

“Everything ok, coach?”

“Peachy.” Beard’s raise of an eyebrow is all the prodding Ted needs to continue. “I messed up, Beardo.”

“Is it the book thing or the other thing?”

“What’s the other thing?” Ted asks.

Expression stoic, Beard says, “The being in love with our boss thing.”

Ted leans back in his chair, defeated. “So, I have been obvious?”

“The biscuits every day for three years? Giggling like a school girl? Heart eyes? Constantly seeking her out? Where’s Rebecca? How’s Rebecca? Rebecca looks happy today, or sad, or angry, or –” Beard pauses to let Ted fill in the rest.

“I think Rebecca’s noticed too,” Ted says and is met with a loud guffaw and look of skepticism on his friend’s face. “What?”

“Rebecca might’ve noticed something, but it isn’t that. Ask. Her. About. It.”

“She threw my biscuits in the trash,” Ted says, believing that’s all that needs to be said.

“That a euphemism?” At Ted’s blank stare, Beard says, “Aren’t the biscuits a euphemism?”

“A-?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Beard tells him.

Later, when he’s home alone, it does occur to Ted what Beard means, but there’s no way he’s reflecting on that line of thought any longer. Somehow Ted had taken this simple gesture of friendship and appreciation and sullied it all up. It’s a wonder that Rebecca hasn’t called in HR on him.

A small, smug, and unhelpful voice pipes up – it’s her reaction to the biscuits that makes the whole thing more suggestive than he ever intended. But, no, no, he can’t blame her enthusiasm for baked goods on the way he feels, and how that’s currently making her feel.

The rest of the week, he’s not sure who’s been successful at avoiding who, but Ted doesn’t run into Rebecca once. As of late, they’ve alternated between visiting each other in their offices, but they both appear to be staying in their own lanes these past few days.

Without the biscuits, there’s no real reason to go and see her, and they both seem to be using a stressed and confused Higgins as their middle man. A Higgins who still can’t bring himself to quite meet Ted’s eyes, and Ted can’t help but wonder at that. Surely, Rebecca hadn’t said anything to him?

Not one to thrive off of quiet weekends, Ted doesn’t normally care for one without a game. This week comes as a blessing in disguise, and he’s looking forward to lying low. Beard has other plans.

Directing him toward the pub as they start down the cobblestoned street toward their respective homes, Beard takes him by the arm and says, “You’re coming with me.”

“No can do,” Ted tells him. “I’ve got chicken defrostin’ and all that.”

“How ‘bout a cold beer, a meal cooked by someone else, and a friendly ear to listen to your woes?”

Unable to argue that point, Ted follows behind Beard, who hones in on a destination. When they reach the table, there’s a pint waiting for him, next to Roy’s arm on the table.

“One friendly ear?” Ted asks.

With a nod, Beard says, “A few of ‘em.”

Roy offers a grunt that Ted takes as agreement. Just as he settles down, thinking it won’t be so bad to spend the evening with his coaching buddies, Ted hears a loud screeching before a pair of arms attack him from behind in a hug.

He lets out a muffled, “How ya doin’, Keeley?”

Keeley squeezes in next to Roy, giving them all a warm smile. He thinks she looks a little tired, but maintains her usual bubbling energy as she looks up at him.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, Ted. But Rebecca-” Ted’s heart sinks when Keeley stares straight at him, before breaking out laughing. “Isn’t here, so we can’t have too much fun without my best friend.”

Although grateful for the way the conversation didn’t go, Ted doesn’t feel much better about the situation. He’d also like it if Rebecca were here, and if things between them weren’t all fudged up again.

“Couldn’t convince her to get her fuckin’ arse out of bed, then?” Roy asks, making Ted’s heart twinge again.

Keeley shrugs. “Says she must be coming down with something, but to drink lots without her.”

Once the warmth of Mae’s pie and the buzz of the pints he’s put back start to kick in, Ted’s worries about Rebecca dull to a more manageable feeling of panic. He hopes it’s enough to let him sleep tonight.

When Beard and Roy hop up to get another round, Ted rests back against his seat and finds Keeley staring at him.

“Ted.”

“Keeley,” he says with a sigh.

“How’s the book thing going?”

“It’s- going.”

“Having regrets then? Because I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I need to steal Trent Crimm for a week, maybe two. My client needs an experienced journalist for a copywriting gig. It would do you all a little good to get a break from being watched, ya?”

“Did, uh-” Ted sits up. “Did Rebecca say anything to you?”

Keeley quirks a brow in question, looking delighted, before she settles her expression into one of feigned innocence. “Should she have?”

Ted coughs out a “No.”

“So, it’s okay if I steal Trent for a few days?”

“Please do,” is all Ted manages.

For the sake of everyone who loves her, Rebecca spends the weekend in self-contained lockdown. She’s on edge from the lack of biscuits, feeling watched at work, and not having had enough time with Ted. No amount of time puttering around her garden, flipping through mindless television, or stewing in her bath proves to be enough of a distraction.

When she turns her phone back on come Sunday night, she can’t help the fluttering in her stomach as she scrolls through what she’s missed. Unable to help herself, she searches through her messages and missed calls three times over to confirm that Ted has not tried to reach out.

Not that she would have answered if he had.

Bracing herself, Rebecca taps on Keeley’s name to look at the string of texts she’s missed. There’s one telling her to “get your fit arse to the C&A rn - Roy Kent,” followed by a “sad boy Ted misses you,” and the latest one from this morning, “brunch next week you can’t escape me.”

One in particular stands out, “Trent Crimm has left the building…temporarily…you owe me.”

The second Rebecca starts typing a response, Keeley calls.

“Thank fuck, you’re still alive.”

Chuckling, Rebecca says, “Were you just waiting and watching for the three dots to pop up?

“No, but I’ve been checking every three to five minutes, and I caught you at the perfect time. Care to explain yourself, then?”

Rebecca says, “It was in everyone’s best interest that I disappear for awhile.”

“Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself. It only took a few hours for me to save your life and had you kept your phone on, I bet you’d have been a lot more social and suddenly well enough to come down to the pub and bat your long eyelashes at Ted.”

“Does this have to do with Trent Crimm and a building?” Rebecca asks, ignoring the suggestions about her and her eyelashes and Ted.

“Yours actually,” Keeley says. “You’re welcome.”

Rebecca hesitates before deciding to push forward. If she can’t tell Keeley what she’s realized over the weekend, she can’t tell anyone. “It’s not Trent Crimm, in particular, that’s the problem.”

“Oh? So, you admit there is a problem?”

“Obviously,” Rebecca says, before taking a breath. She can picture her friend sitting on the edge of the couch, waiting for the inevitable. “Would you like to tell me what you think it is?”

“Yes, but I’d rather hear it from you. Spit it out already, Rebecca!”

She sighs and then, “I think I may have developed,” she pauses, takes a sharp breath, and then, “intimate feelings for Ted–”

“I bloody KNEW it!”

“-’s biscuits,” Rebecca finishes with a satisfied smirk. At Keeley’s silence, she continues, “and the man who bakes them.”

They spend the rest of the evening deliberating over every single facet, characteristic, and feature that Rebecca enjoys about Ted, most notably the dimple that pops out when he smiles and the way he fills out his khakis.

“And you can just tell that by the way he fills out the front of the khakis that he’s got an absolutely mas-” Keeley starts after downing what must be a full bottle of wine, but Rebecca doesn’t let her finish that sentence.

Right before ending the call, Rebecca near sleep with a dreamy smile on her face, Keeley waxes on about the benefits of dating someone who knows what they’re doing in the kitchen, as it is solid evidence they also know what they’re doing in the bedroom.

“This is still very new,” Rebecca reminds her, not for the first time that night. “Nor is it really anything yet.”

Keeley sighs, wistful and uncontained. “But you’re so close to it. Dive into this week and make it happen.”

It’s amazing what clarity a weekend alone can bring. Upon realizing, then copping to, that her feelings for Ted were beyond that of friendship, Rebecca’s first instinct was to panic. Scrounging through her kitchen to find something sugary to nix her craving, she’d whammed her head against an open cabinet. The pain in her forehead dissipated at the sudden urge that rose in her for Ted. Not the biscuits, but Ted.

The initial fear subsided into a strange sort of calm. She’d hurt herself, she wanted to seek out Ted for comfort. When she was sad, it was Ted who made her feel a little lighter. Ted was always the one to get her laughing, who sought out her opinion because he truly valued it, who she wanted beside her in and outside of the club.

The yearning for his companionship and the realization that it always has to be Ted gave way to her physical response to him. How she was always touching him of late, a hand brushing against his shoulder, settling on his back, their thighs touching when they were sat on her couch.

Now that she was allowing herself to appreciate Ted as a viable romantic option, the only option really, she wanted more than chaste touches that could be perceived as innocent and friendly. Her fingers itched to be intertwined with his. She wanted to linger in his arms when they hugged. How easy it would be to tilt her head, up or down depending on whether she was wearing heels, and press her lips to his.

Monday morning, Rebecca settles in at her desk, confident in the fact that their Biscuits with the Boss time won’t be interrupted with Trent otherwise occupied. She opted for a softer look this morning, her hair down in wavy curls, making her feel romantic in a way she can’t explain.

Ted’s usual visiting time comes and goes without an appearance. When her door creaks open around 10:30 a.m., she whips up her head, but it’s only Higgins coming to give her paperwork to sign off on.

“Is Coach Lasso in today?” she asks, when Higgins meanders in for the second time. Higgins’s eyes drift to the pitch outside her window before returning to her.

“He is,” he says with a cautious tone.

Trying to remain casual, Rebecca asks, “Will he be coming up to my office, do you know?”

“I- Has he not already?” Higgins looks surprised.

Shaking her head, Rebecca closes the laptop screen she wasn’t even pretending to focus on anymore.

“Things have been, tense, between Ted and I this past week.”

Higgins nods, knowingly. “Everyone behaves differently when they’re being watched.”

“That,” Rebecca agrees, “but I also think it shone a light on a few things. Does he seem alright to you?” Opening his mouth, Higgins shuts it just as quick. “You can tell the truth, Leslie.”

“I think the best way to find out what Ted is thinking is to ask him about it. Misunderstandings arise through a lack of communication and there’s been plenty of that of late.”

“And what? Just tell him how I feel?”

Higgins’s eyes widen for a moment before giving way to a smile. “I did, and look what it brought me these past 30 years.”

Rebecca waits until he leaves to stand and pace around her office. It’s one thing to admit her feelings to herself, and to Keeley and now Higgins, but the idea of telling Ted feels daunting. Neither Keeley or Higgins had tried to warn her off her feelings, so that has to be a good sign. Still, there’s no way to tell how he’ll react.

Coming to a stop in front of the window, Rebecca looks down and spots Ted immediately. He’s agitated, shuffling around the pitch, waving his arms around as he shouts something at the players. She watches Beard and Roy exchange a look from where they stand on the sidelines behind Ted.

They’ve proven in the past just how much damage distance between them can cause. Enough is enough. Rebecca unlatches the window, pulls it up, and takes a breath.

“Teee-eeeeeed!” she screams down at him. Everyone looks up at her. Ted is the last to turn around, his hand flying to his forehead to squint up at her. He doesn’t say anything in return, so she continues, “Can you come up here a moment, please?”

Looking back at his players, who have started to go back to running their plays, Ted shrugs, his shoulders hunching as he bows his head in apparent defeat, and starts to walk off the pitch. Despite the fear at the prospect of her soon-to-be revelation, Rebecca is resolved to fix this now.

No matter how he feels, she needs him in her life, however he’ll have her.

It doesn’t help that the one thing that could take off the edge right now is a biscuit she’s afraid isn’t coming.

By the time Ted shuffles his way up the stairs, and Rebecca is quick to notice the lapse of his usual exuberance, she’s waiting for him in her doorway, next to the tree he often high fives. She shoves down the urge to do so herself, seeking a bout of confidence.

When he walks through the door, she moves aside and gestures to the couch, but Ted doesn’t step away from the doorframe. He also refuses to meet her eyes or even look her way.

“What can I do for ya? Boys are waitin’ on me.”

With courage she doesn’t feel, Rebecca sits on the couch anyway, spreading her hands over her skirt in an effort to settle her shaking hands. “Trent Crimm isn’t here this week,” she says.

Ted spares a momentary glance her way before fixing his gaze outside to the pitch. “No siree, workin’ on some stuff for a friend of Keeley’s.”

“Things got awkward, tense between us when he was here.”

“Have they?” he says, opting for surprise, but even to his own ears, he knows the words ring hollow.

Rebecca stands suddenly, shocking him into looking at her. When he takes an actual, good look at her, he realizes how nervous she appears.

“Aw heck, Rebecca-” he says, taking a step toward her. Rebecca’s heart starts to pound harder in her chest, his eyes on her, his proximity after so many days apart. “I didn’t mean to-” Ted waves his arms around for lack of words to explain what he thinks he’s done.

“It’s hardly your fault, Ted. Really, I blame myself.”

Ted pauses to wonder at that, but shakes his head ardently. He can’t offer anything further without worrying that he’ll get himself into deeper trouble.

With him turned away from her again, Rebecca takes a moment to get a good look at him. The agitation she’d witnessed from her birds eye view of the pitch is magnified up close. His hair is everywhere, caused by his incessant need to run his hands through it every few seconds.

For a moment, Rebecca distracts herself, thinking how nice it would feel to replace his hands with her own, work him up in a whole other way. She coughs and he looks at her again, questioning. Tired eyes stare back at her, bluish black bags telling her he hasn’t slept much.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” she says, but doesn’t know how to move the conversation forward. Not when he seems a world away from her. Instead, Rebecca plops herself down on the couch, wishing for the hundredth time just that morning, for a biscuit.

As she sits for the second time, her gaze fixed toward her desk and away from him, Ted allows himself to really look at her. Despite her soft appearance, there’s a tension vibrating through her that he can’t discern. She doesn’t look as tired as he does, he’d shuddered at himself in the mirror this morning after another fitful night of sleep, but there’s something not right.

A misunderstanding, he almost laughs out loud. Not a misunderstanding so much as a crossing of boundaries. He needs to fix this, but doesn’t have a clue as to how to start. She called him up here though, so she wants to talk about it. As the cause of this new divide, he needs to be the one to fix it.

Upon his taking a step further into the room, Rebecca glances back up at him, sitting up ramrod straight in alert, her eyes wide.

“R’becca, I’m sorry-” She opens her mouth, but he gently holds up a hand to stop her. “Please let me get this out. ‘m sorry for agreeing to the interview. I should have talked it through with you first. I just thought it would be good coverage for the club, something we could control.”

When he pauses and she doesn’t move to interrupt, Ted continues.

“And I’m sorry for- the other thing. I didn’t realize how out of control it had gotten and how it was effecting you. I guess it’s easy to misinterpret friendship for something more and I never intended to make you feel that way. Frankly, I’ve never felt more uncomfortable.”

The edge of excitement that had been building in her is brought to a halt at Ted’s words. Icy cold embarrassment runs down Rebecca’s spine. He’s her friend, Ted is her friend, and here she is again trying to turn a professional relationship into something it shouldn’t be. Something he so clearly doesn’t want.

A hand falls across her eyes, trying to shield herself from his now intense watch and this incredibly humiliating situation. Rebecca wishes he would just spare them both and go back to training.

After awhile, she takes a breath. “Ted I- I don’t know what to say, truthfully. I’m sorry that I ever, that I ever inspired such-,” she swallows, “discomfort in you.”

When she dares to look at him again, Ted has his mouth open in surprise. “All you were doin’ was tryin’ to enjoy a sugary treat once in awhile. I mean, sure your response, looking back now, might’ve been a tad suggestive, but really, who am I to judge someone’s pleasure? I’m the one who turned it into something it’s not.”

His cheeks pinken at his words, but Rebecca can’t quite wrap her head around what he means. Standing with one hand on his hip, another alternates between wiping his hair out of his face and the tension out of his eyes.

“Look-” Ted says, gesturing between them. “Clear as day, I understand now what this is. I respect you not feelin’ the same and I think I’ve done a fine job the past few weeks puttin’ some space between us. If you want more of that space, I respect that too. I do ask that you let me finish out the season if you can stomach it, and I will resign at the end of it-”

He’s rambling now, not wanting to say the words spewing out of his mouth, but Ted knows he means it. Whatever it takes to make her happy and allow her a sense of safety, he’d do it. But as the word “resign” tumbles out of his mouth, he senses Rebecca feels the same panic he does at having said it, considering she’s now flung herself into his arms.

Grasping first at his shoulders, he feels her hands move urgently to the back of his neck, to his hair, tugging slightly before coming to rest in a tight squeeze. Pressing her full body against his, Ted thinks maybe he should give himself a little slack for letting his feelings for her grow like a wildfire when she goes and does things like this.

Gently, he tries to pry himself away from her, but Rebecca lets out a cross between a growl and a moan and holds herself firmly against him, burying her face into his neck. If this is the last time he gets to have her in his arms, Ted figures he should enjoy it and relaxes into the hug.

After a long while, he feels and hears Rebecca chuckle against him. Unable to help himself, he laughs along with her.

“You’re an idiot,” she says, “but I am too.”

“Can’t say I disagree, about me at least. You want to flesh out that thought a bit more?”

After a final squeeze, Rebecca steps back, but doesn’t let go of him. Her hands grasp his biceps, thumbs rubbing absentmindedly against him as she looks down and then meets his eyes.

“Please tell me if I’m wrong in my assumptions, but do you have romantic feelings for me?”

Although she feels a bit like she’s dying in finally uttering these words, Rebecca can’t help but channel Keeley in this moment and flutter her eyelashes at him.

“Yes ma’am,” is all Ted can say.

“Is it also safe to assume that you thought those aforementioned romantic feelings were unwanted?”

Ted looks even more uncertain. “Hum, yes.”

“And here I thought my own romantic feelings for you were making you uncomfortable.”

The moment it hits him what she’s said, Ted’s expression shifts from polite resignation to befuddlement to awe.

“Your romantic-?”

Instead of answering with words, Rebecca closes the distance between them, slotting her lips against his. She should feel embarrassed at the growl that comes out of her unbidden for the second time in the past five minutes, but she can’t seem to care about anything other than Ted’s tongue he’s just slipped into her mouth.

After a long while, they break apart, Ted’s forehead dropping ever so slightly to rest against hers.

“I’m startin’ to see the benefits of talking things through,” he says, still breathless, causing Rebecca to laugh again.

“Funny, I’ve realized the benefit of using my mouth in a different way.”

Kissing her again, much too brief for either of their liking, Ted says, “Oh, this is gonna be a hoot. You’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t ya?”

Rebecca kisses him again for a good long while to prove his point. When he breaks apart, she growls for the third time.

“You rejected my biscuits,” he says. “That’s why I thought you- that you didn’t feel the same.”

Sighing, Rebecca looks longingly at him, whether for the biscuits or his kisses, Ted is unsure.

“The biscuits brought up some things that I was trying to repress for awhile now. I guess it took someone actually calling us on it to make me realize.”

For a moment, Ted is content to let them enjoy this moment. There will be time for talking later, and plenty of it. There’s no more room for miscommunication between them anymore. They’re too important to each other.

Before he realizes, Ted says, “But you threw away my biscuits!”

Rebecca coughs, looking uncomfortable again. “I turned them away when Higgins brought them by, yes, because I was trying to convince myself I could live without them. I was wrong by the way, so as soon as you can make another batch I’d-”

“Rebecca-” Ted cuts her off.

“Right, right. I turned them away, but then Higgins bit into one and it just felt- wrong. He thought so too, dropped them right in the bin.”

“Does everyone think the biscuits are a euphemism?”

“It would appear so yes,” she answers with a smile.

“Sums up why Higgins still can’t look me in the eye,” Ted says, chuckling, but feeling slightly icky.

After calling down to Beard, Roy, and the boys that they are now on their own for the rest of training, Rebecca makes it her mission to wipe the unpleasant image out of Ted’s head. She spends the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening replacing it with something far more enjoyable for both of them.