Chapter Text
I hope your dreams, don't feel small
and when the wind begins to rise, I hope your mast stands straight and tall
These are fragile times, we blur the lines
in the unlikeliest of places, we all find a little grace
…and there's no wrong way home
---
There’s a text in the Diamond Dogs group letting Ted know that he should expect an email from Rebecca. He doesn’t love that everyone assumes he needs a heads up when Rebecca’s involved in something, but he supposes he made the choices he made and did the things he did and left her with tears in her eyes at an airport gate. So maybe it’s justified that he gets a warning. And he’s honestly surprised to hear from her at all, with all the miles and space between them now.
And nothing really even prepares him for the email that he receives. It’s a job offer, and he’s flashing back to Christmas six years ago when he first heard the name Rebecca Welton, when all anyone knew about him was that he could coach college football and do a goofy dance. Now it feels, sometimes, like the world is waiting to see what he’s gonna do next, that coaching girl’s soccer for a college in Kansas isn’t what they were expecting.
But Richmond’s starting a women’s football team, and he’s apparently on the shortlist for managers.
It’s a few days before he has some idea of what to do with the email from Rebecca Welton. It’s a few days of talking with Michelle and talking with Henry and realizing that maybe he does want to go back and that maybe it’s okay to want to live in Richmond, and that maybe Henry likes the idea of his dad doing stuff over there and getting to stay with him when he can. And so they sit together as a family, just two divorced parents and their precocious little kid who isn’t so little anymore, and figure out what works for them. And they come to the decision that if Ted wants to coach for Richmond again, they’re all on board.
And now he has to do something about it.
His fingers dance over his phone contacts before he takes a deep breath and hits the call button for Rebecca.
“Ted,” she answers, sounding a little surprised, even though she’s the one who emailed him, and probably should’ve expected a call one way or another. Or maybe she thought he’d just delete the email and move on and act like AFC Richmond never existed. Which he could understand to some degree. She clears her throat. “Coach Lasso. I assume you’ve received the offer?” There she is. The woman he met on his first day in England who served him tea with a brittle smile, walls and moats and fences and bricks between her and the rest of the world.
“I did, Rebecca. Ms. Welton.” He doesn’t know the rules here. He clears his throat too, feels like some kind of ridiculous echo. “I wanted to thank you for it.”
“No gratitude is needed. You were requested by name, Coach Lasso. There were no machinations at play this time around. The Lady Greys told Leslie that you were the coach they wanted. Do you accept the offer or not?” So steely, so stern. He’s earned that. It’s been weeks and weeks without biscuits or conversations or texts or anything at all, so she has every right to feel how she wants to feel and he has to remind himself that he’s earned it, even if it hurts.
“It’ll grind my gears to coach a team named after a tea, but I’ll give it my best shot, boss.” He hopes she’s smiling, but it isn't Facetime, so he can’t tell. Just imagines he’s living in the best possible scenario instead of the one he’s probably actually living in, where she’s rolling her eyes and actually meaning it.
“Right.” She’s short and to the point. “Leslie will send over the documents and arrange your flights.”
“And Henry’s too? The kid’s precocious, but he ain’t even got a credit card yet.” He still can’t quite believe it, that the world is opening up to him like this, that maybe, just this once, he can get what he wants without having to choose, without having to give something up.
Her voice is softer when she asks, “Henry’s coming with?,” then adds, as if as an afterthought, “To stay?”
“Yep. Turns out he likes London a whole heckuva lot and was pretty miffed when I moved back. We’ve been unraveling a whole bunch of knots trying to figure things out, but this job you’re gonna give me? Rebecca, it’s gonna change my life. Again. Back. I don’t know. But it’s good, it’s gonna be good for me and for Henry. And you, I hope.” He rocks back on his heels a bit, bites his lip.
“I’m not giving you anything. I repeat, you were requested, and my feelings about the situation are far outweighed by my desire for the Lady Greys to succeed. Leslie will be in touch.” The call ends abruptly as her tone switched, and Ted’s left looking at his phone, wondering if there was something else he could’ve said.
-
Rebecca feels a little unmoored at the thought of Ted Lasso back in the halls of AFC Richmond, roaming the dogtrack. Part of her wishes she could’ve made him beg for a job, made him apologize and ask for forgiveness. And she knows he would’ve, if she wanted him to. But that’s never been who he is, or what they are. He gives his forgiveness freely and he roots for everyone else in the world, and she could never actually make him grovel.
It doesn’t stop her from wishing him a bit of misery, though. It all seems too easy, to get him back to Richmond, to fill in the Ted-shaped hole he left behind, that no one has quite been able to patch over. She has to remind herself that he might still leave, might still decide that she’s not enough to stay for - that Richmond isn’t enough to stay for.
She doesn’t want to be the person she was when Ted first came to Richmond, but she doesn’t want to be the person she was when he left either. She wants to be able to exist with him but not depend upon him. She wants - she’s not even exactly sure what it is she wants, when it comes down to it. Certainly, she wants her teams to succeed, and she wants everyone she loves to be happy, and she wants to be happy, too. Maybe that’s all she can hope for, all that she can work towards.
This is the mantra she repeats to herself every morning when she goes into her office, as Ted’s arrival date looms ever closer. She’s found him a decent flat this time, more than one bedroom at least, directly overlooking the green this time. And now that she knows Henry’s coming, she feels even more confident in that choice, with both bedrooms having a view out towards the busy area. She can imagine the young boy she’s only met once or twice looking out his window with his chin in his hands as people and dogs and birds and foxes and whatever else travel by.
Mostly she tries to fill her days with things that don’t make her think of Ted, all the while understanding the irony of picking activities that don’t make her think of someone is still thinking about that someone. Keeley has taken the Lady Greys as an opportunity to set up a satellite office at Richmond, wanting to be where the action is, wanting to be close to Jamie and Roy, confident that KJPR will do well even on the days she isn’t there. Rebecca loves the success her friend has built, loves how she’s found her footing. And she loves that Keeley knows not to talk about Ted.
Instead, they look at uniforms and pick out colors. They sift through assistant manager applications, ready for Ted to look at when he’s settled. They go to Barkingham Palace to find a suitable mascot and meet a beautiful little Italian Greyhound. Keeley takes a thousand pictures and still says it’s not enough, filling up the club’s Instagram stories and sending pictures to Roy and Jamie and getting no response “Because they’re off running laps around Buckingham Palace today” and god knows why that is but at least they’re happy.
“What if we rename her Greyoncé?” Keeley asks with a laugh and Rebecca doesn’t hide the snort that comes out. “Have the Grey-hive?” Rebecca just shrugs; she never knows what people want to see. Keeley ultimately creates some sort of poll, and they’ll have an answer in twenty-four hours time.
It isn’t until the night before Ted’s second first day that Keeley says anything about him at all, and she even gives Rebecca an out, just fixes her with that kind stare and asks, “How are you doing with all this?”
And Rebecca could brush it off and say she’s fine that there was ultimately nothing there between her and the man with the boat, and she’s never been happier for Sam than seeing his restaurant succeed, and liking the photos he posts of dates with Simi. But instead, her eyes well up a bit, and she has to remind herself that it’s all right to feel things. “I’m okay,” she says, her voice quavering a bit. “I think I’m okay. Today, at least. I don’t know how I’ll be tomorrow.”
And that’s the only answer she has; she doesn’t know how she’ll feel, when Ted’s in the building. She doesn’t know if she wants him to come up with freshly baked biscuits or if she doesn’t. She only knows that right now, in this moment, she’s okay.
-
Henry’s sound asleep, been sleeping well ever since they got to London, spending every day taking in as much of his new home as he can. He’s joining AFC Richmond’s youth league, training starts a week after Ted does. There’s a new school, walking distance from their flat. Ted can watch Henry run around the Green from the window, watches him as he makes friends as easily as his dad, not a stranger in sight where Henry Lasso is concerned.
There was a lukewarm welcome from Mae - glad to have him back, certainly, but there’s still resentment for leaving. He expects more of the same no matter where he goes. Beard responds sporadically to texts, and that’s another relationship Ted has to mend. Right up there with Rebecca. Sometimes he can’t believe how much hurt he caused trying to avoid making anyone feel pain. Roy’s stopped by, dropped off a “Football for Dummies” book and a pint of ice cream. Not a lot of conversation, no hug, but Ted’s okay with it.
He’s thinking through everything that’s happened, moments flicking through his mind like a movie montage and he thinks Kenny Rogers would be the perfect backdrop for the movie of his life. And Ted’s staring at his oven, staring at the shortbread ingredients he’s got laid out on the counter. Does he make the biscuits?
There’s more than one side to it, like there always is, and he’s trying to be better about seeing the different sides to things. He could make ‘em and bring ‘em to Rebecca’s office, and it’ll seem like he’s trying to pick up where they left off, without making any atonements. Might make things worse. He could make ‘em and bring a whole platter for everyone to share, and it’ll seem like he doesn’t understand the importance of them - the importance of them to Rebecca, and to him. He could not make ‘em and show up to her office with an apology and a smile and a question to make her laugh. He could just avoid her and hope that she understands he’s giving her space.
He doesn’t know if there’s a right answer. Maybe there’s only the answer he chooses, and then they have to figure out what to do from there.
It’s after midnight before he decides not to make them after all. He gets a package of chocolate digestives from the kitchen and slides three into a carefully folded white box. Something about the pink - he just can’t. It was special, it was from another time. And maybe that time’ll come back, but he’s got a lot to do before he thinks he’ll have earned it.
When morning comes, Ted knows he looks tired, scrapes his razor along his jaw and runs a brush through his hair, gets his bag and Henry’s bag together, and then they’re out the door, walking to Henry’s school, where Henry peels off from his dad with barely even a wave. It doesn’t hurt too bad, because Ted does know he’ll probably get a hug when Henry comes barreling in after school ends right along with a breathless monologue about everything he did while they were apart. He may be growin’ up, but he still loves his dad, and Ted will never stop being grateful for it.
Walking into the club feels like a million things and Ted can’t name a single one of ‘em. He smiles at Liam, shakes his hand, but there are new faces too, people he’ll learn about soon enough, he’s sure. Higgins squelches a little and then holds out a fist to Ted for a little bump. “Welcome back,” he says, and Ted tries to remind himself that it’ll all be okay.
“Thanks, Higgy Pudding.” That earns Ted a wider grin, and he feels like he’s breaking in jeans that are fresh outta the wash. Finding the old patterns. It’ll all be okay. “I’m goin’ up to see Rebecca - she free right now?”
The wet noise comes back, but Higgins nods, and Ted heads up the stairs, the familiar office door slightly ajar. He takes a deep breath, then knocks, just two sharp raps.
“Come in!” Her voice is warm and lovely and slightly sing-songy and he just guesses she doesn’t think he’s the one who’s knocking. Maybe she’s waiting for Keeley, or Higgins, or anyone else. Maybe he shouldn’t have come up. Maybe it’s too soon. And then he realizes he’s been staring at her door for what most people would consider too long, and she calls out again, “Yes?”
“Right, sorry, gotta walk into the room after knocking. I forget how y’all do things over here.” He pushes the door open and sees Rebecca’s face, mouth open, eyes wide, just a quick flash before she schools it all back into professionalism and she looks something like the Rebecca he first met, a whole lifetime ago.
“Ted, hello.” Rebecca says, her smile tight, and Ted knows his face is mirroring her expression. He trips over the small rug she’s got near the sofa, bites his lip harder than he’d like, but pulls it all back in and holds out the small white box to her when he nears her desk.
“I don’t need the biscuits,” Rebecca says, but her hand still closes around the box.
“Well, uh, that’s good, because those aren’t your biscuits. They aren’t shortbread, I mean. I just. I just wanted to give you somethin’, I guess. I’m sorry.” He’s sorry about biscuits, he’s sorry about being weird and out of sorts, he’s sorry about tripping over her new rug, he’s sorry about leaving, he’s sorry about pretty much everything.
“We’re fine, Ted. Everything is fine. I don’t need biscuits. I know you went to a Kenny Rogers concert, you know I saw the Spice Girls, and what else can we really know about each other. Consider us bonded. No biscuits needed. It’s not like it was.”
He thinks she means she’s not actively trying to sabotage him anymore, but she could mean a whole host of other things too. It’s not like it was.
“Maybe the biscuits aren’t needed, but I’m still comin’ up here, Rebecca. We got some time to make up for.” He scratches at the back of his head. “I mean, if you really don’t want me to, I don’t have to. I just -” He wants to say he misses her, but doesn’t know if she wants to hear it. He doesn’t like not knowing what’s in her mind. “I just think it’ll be good for us.”
He leaves her office before she can tell him that there isn’t any “us” and figures if she doesn’t want him to come up in the morning tomorrow, he’ll know, one way or another. He hopes she likes the McVities.
-
When Ted worked at Richmond the first time, Rebecca had a certain awareness of him. She could hear him through open windows and understood where he was in the building in relation to her and when they went out in a group, some of her mind was always keeping track of where Ted was.
Now, he’s back in the building, he’s back at Richmond, and Rebecca doesn’t quite have that same sense. What she has instead is an overwhelming awareness of Ted as a concept and a person and that he might appear at any moment. There’s also the feeling of being watched, of Higgins cautiously waiting to see how she’s doing, of Keeley texting things that are carefully not about work, of Roy stopping by “Just because. Can’t a gaffer come up to the boss’s office? Fuck.”
She’s had months of trying not to think about him, months of being the person she wants to be, independent of anyone else, of excavating herself. It was almost a shock when the board, and when some of the women’s team, not yet signed at that point, asked if she would consider extending an offer to Ted Lasso.
“He did such good for the Greyhounds, got them on their feet and now they’ve been tops ever since,” Bertram Sands told her. And Tessa Hughes, center back from Liverpool, said that she and some of the other potential players had a group chat and Ted’s name had come up more than once. “We get the whole women power thing, and it’s not a deal breaker. But we’d like to see if he’d come back. Plus, he’s gaffer for a women’s side back in America, so it wouldn’t be all new.”
There wasn’t an argument to be made, really. “I was in love with him and he wouldn’t stay for me,” doesn’t really hold up against financial decisions and prospective players. “It’s just at university level,” she said weakly to Tessa, but knew she’d be working with Leslie to pull together an offer all the same. She doesn’t even have an excuse for knowing what he’s up to, except for the fact that she’s never gotten rid of the Google news alert for his name.
And so Ted is back, with biscuits in a white box and when she opens it, she can tell they’re not homemade and she doesn’t know if she feels relieved or disappointed. She misses the shortbread, will probably tell him so at some point, because for all her hurt, she can’t quite imagine a world where she’s truly immune to Ted Lasso. She couldn’t even muster the steeliness to put an end to any future morning biscuits.
But for now, she’ll take the digestives and she’ll know that he’s in the building. They have a meeting scheduled in the afternoon to talk about assistant managers for the women’s team, she’s sure he’s already poring over the resumes. If she had to guess, she thinks Scottish Lacy Mair will be his top choice. There’s a video of her doing karaoke with her university team and she’s singing Islands in the Stream with the keeper taking Dolly’s part. And she personally can’t wait to watch him hear her brogue for the first time.
She texts Keeley a quick “Biscuits with the Boss, but different. It’s fine.” And she thinks she means it. It’s fine. It will be fine. And he’ll be back in her office in the afternoon.