Archive of Our Own

Ted was a traditional guy. He was kinda woke, diversity aware and definitely a feminist. But when it came to his own life, he had to admit he craved the holy trinity—his house, his wife, his kid. Maybe a dog. 

So after getting together with Rebecca, it had taken him all of four months before he knew he wanted to marry her. Okay, four days. But she was a strong, independent woman who’d been burnt by being Mrs Someone Else. 

So he’d waited. 

Only he hadn’t. 

He’d done everything backwards. He’d gotten the ring first. Then asked for Henry’s permission. And now he was wondering whether he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. 

Rebecca was a survivor. Her life had turned out very different to what it was supposed to. And there was always something she was supposed to do. Some way she was supposed to be. Someone's daughter, someone's wife. 

But she’d weathered the storm and made her life her own. Finally, blessedly her own.

So when she got together with Ted, someone who finally saw her as she was, she felt free—truly free for the first time in her life. Even when she was difficult. Even when she was sharp-edged and guarded and didn't know how to ask for what she wanted. He saw her, and he stayed.

They had done everything backwards. Had built a legacy together first. Then become friends, then fallen in love.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He loved how the golden light reflected on her curls. Her back raised and fell with the lulling cadence of her breathing. He’d been observing her in her sleep since he’d woken. Almost an hour. 

She stirred, rubbing her nose against her pillow. The particular way her nose wrinkled in the morning was adorable. Her eyelids fluttered open. Sleepy emerald eyes met his. She smiled as soon as she saw him. As she did every morning. 

"Morning."

"Merry Christmas, honey." He carefully tucked a rogue curl behind her ear. 

Rebecca shifted closer, placed a soft kiss on his lips. 

"Merry Christmas, my love."

He barely noticed her hand around his middle, fingers stroking his lower back. 

His mind was elsewhere. In the drawer of his nightstand, which housed an oval cut Morganite ring. 

Christmas Day seemed like the perfect day to propose. It wasn’t their anniversary. It didn’t mark any of their firsts. But it was the day everything had shifted. And the way she looked at him this morning, he knew she felt it too. It was a special day for them. 

He took her hand in his, interlaced their fingers. Kissed her knuckles. 

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

She laughed. "It may have been a while. I did just spend eight hours sleeping."

He frowned. "I didn’t tell you in your dreams?"

Another laugh. It was his favorite sound, especially in the morning, when she laid next to him—face bare, heart open. 

"Oh, you did far more than telling me."

"I did, huh?" He rolled on top of her, cupping her head with his forearms. "Can I be jealous of myself?"

"I think—" He kissed her. "—I can make time—" Kiss. "—for you—" Kiss. "—day and night."

Their kiss deepened. 

"Da-aaaad! Rebecca! Can we do presents now? I heard you, you’re awake now!"

Ted chuckled, lowered his forehead on Rebecca’s. She traced his jaw with her fingers. 

"He’s still a kid after all." There was amusement in her voice. She was always patient with Henry, no matter how much sass he displayed at his fourteen years.

Henry knocked on their door. Ted rolled back on his side. 

"Merry Christmas, Henry!" Rebecca called. 

Henry’s face peeked between the doorframe and the door. 

"Hey, bud! Merry Christmas!"

He walked inside, plopped himself on their bed. "Come downstairs! I’m excited for you to open my presents! Rebecca, I think you’re gonna love yours."

"Oh, I’m sure I will." She got up, wrapping herself in her night gown. 

Ted watched them banter as they walked down the stairs. 

He had invited Rebecca to dinner with him and Henry only two weeks after their first night together in Liverpool. She’d been nervous and he’d loved her for it. They’d hit it off immediately and he thought his heart might explode right then and there. 

That was the first time he’d had to talk himself out of asking her to marry him. 

Tears threatened to blur her vision when Henry gave her her present. As they had when he’d asked his mom to spend Christmas in London this year. 

"Now you’re part of the Lasso Christmas tradition," he said while donning her scarf around her. Henry and Ted had matching ones. Their initials were stitched on each other’s scarfs. 

This was her family. And once she had found it, it had all happened quite fast.

Their relationship went public in January. Keeley orchestrated a soft launch, which didn’t keep the yellow press from sticking their noses up their arses. It had been three exhausting months of answering inappropriate questions, slaloms of paparazzis and desperately trying to keep Henry out of it.

By April, England had accepted Ted and Rebecca as the next Beckham and Posh Spice, and Ted and Rebecca had accepted their fate. Which left them mostly to themselves. To ordinary domesticity.

It was nice at first, just enjoying coffee together without having to worry about how to exit the house without being blinded by flashlights. But it also meant they had to learn to be together without secrecy, without a common enemy. Just Ted and Rebecca, doing ordinary things.

It scared her. Domesticity had killed her first marriage. Well, a conniving cock had. But the bliss of domesticity was hard to believe. Surely the other shoe would drop at some point. So she might as well speed up the process.

Later on, she would understand she’d been testing Ted. But in that moment, all she knew was how her legs told her to run and her fists to fight. How her entire body braced for impact even though nothing was happening. How the harder she laughed in the morning, the more unsettled she felt when they sat quietly in the evening.

Until the spring broke. She snapped at him. For nothing at all. Just because. She froze the moment the sharp words left her mouth. Stood in the middle of the kitchen, observing him with wide eyes and downturned lips. Hands on her hips because one part of her felt up for a fight. Whereas the other wanted to be held.

Ted tilted his head at her, paused for a moment. She expected him to walk out. She wanted him to, because it felt good to predict things. To be in control.

Instead, he nodded and said, "Okay". He didn’t take a single step further. He looked down, put his hands on the counter and asked what he could do to make her feel better.

So she snapped again. Because neither of the parts wrestling inside her wanted to explain themselves. 

Then he smiled. Just a small one. He took a few steps towards her, and when he was barely inches away from her, he looked straight into her eyes. She was trying to pierce him with them, but the tears prickling at the corners betrayed her. 

"Okay," he repeated. 

"Good." And her chest felt looser, like she could finally take a deep breath. 

He made them breakfast, walked around the kitchen without ever looking at her too long, but never leaving the room. As she sat down to eat with him, she still felt dazzled from his presence.

That night, she cried for an hour. There were tears of joy and there were tears of relief. There were tears of disbelief, too. 

She didn’t need another test. When she talked to Sassy on the phone, her friend warned it might be too early, they hadn’t even dated for a year. But Rebecca hadn’t ever felt more sure of anything. 

It’d taken her years to realize what she wanted. It’d taken her a few months to understand Ted would stay even if she was prickly. It only took her a week to muster the courage to ask for what she wanted. 

And she felt proud for it. Not waiting for someone else to make a move, but taking matters into her own hand. Creating her family. When she asked Ted whether he and Henry wanted to move in with her, his smile lit up the entire room. 

Now Henry and her were upstairs in her bedroom—their bedroom, Ted and hers—looking for the appropriate headwear to deliver presents. 

"See? I have another elf hat. Do you wanna take this one or your dad’s Santa hat?"

Clink

She smiled. Silly man. 

Clink

"Do you think he prefers the Santa one?" Henry asked as she walked to the window. 

"Let’s ask him."

Ted grinned at her from their garden. 

"Do you wanna build a snowman?"

"Dad, there’s no snow," Henry sassed. 

Rebecca smirked. 

"It doesn’t have to be a snowman," Ted answered, hands cupped over his face, shooting Rebecca a wink. 

Henry rolled his eyes. "I’m too old for Frozen, dad!"

Rebecca giggled. 

"Te-eeeed!"

"Yeah?"

"Do you wanna wear the Santa hat or the elf one?"

"I can be either!"

"Good! You’ll be an elf this time. Henry gets the Santa hat."

Henry looked back and forth between them, eyes narrowed, mouth turned down at the corners.

"Why are you guys shouting at each other from the window?"

"Oh, don’t mind us." Rebecca closed the window, leading Henry out of the room. 

"You guys are weird today. What’s going on?"

She shrugged. "It’s Christmas." 

Henry crinkled his entire face, taking the hats. 

Ted met them in the foyer with a grin. She circled his neck and kissed him. 

"Ugh. You guys are gross."

Ted shook his head then laid it on her shoulder. She cupped the back of his head. Her heart was Lasso full. Just the way she loved it. 

He’d been close to writing Marry Me in tinsel underneath their bedroom window. But he still wasn’t sure whether proposing was a good idea at all. 

"Hen, you like Rebecca, right?" he’d asked him a few weeks ago while she was out for dinner with Keeley. 

"Yeah, dad. I’ve told you only a million times. She’s the best."

"So if I were to ask her to marry me…?"

"What?" he asked plainly.

"You’d be okay with that?"

Henry shrugged. "As long as she’s okay with it."

Ted’s brow furrowed. "What d’you mean?"

"Well, it’s not like you need it. We already live together. Everyone knows you’re endgame. It’s not like with mom."

His stomach felt all in knots. "What do you mean with mom?"

Henry kept typing on his cell phone as he talked with Ted, like the conversation was so obvious he didn’t even need to look up. 

"Well, it made sense that you had a title or something back then. I mean, I don’t remember everything, but Rebecca looks at you different. It’s not like you have to claim that you’re locked in. You just are. You get her. She gets you."

"Huh." Ted had trouble unpacking everything his son had just thrown at him. "So you don’t think it makes a difference if we’re married?"

"It’s literally a legal contract. If it’s real, you don’t need to trap it."

"Hot damn." Ted rubbed the back of his neck, fanned himself with the collar of his polo. Leave it to gen alpha to deliver the most cynical and somehow also the most romantic take on love he’d ever heard. 

Hen might be right. Rebecca was her own person. He didn’t want to claim her. He just wanted to—what? Spend the rest of his life with her. And have her know that. Shout it from the rooftops. 

But it was true, even the entire nation knew he did. They knew what she wore on dates and the exact place his hand always occupied on her waist, paps be damned. 

There was still something beautiful about it, wasn’t there? A commitment made. A choice made public. 

But what if she didn’t see it like that? She’d been burned alright. Maybe she didn’t want to be a wife, no matter how well he treated her. Maybe she was happy the way things were. They had a great life together after all. 

And still he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Damn him, he believed in rom-communism. 

"I’ll be there in a sec!" he told them while they were loading the trunk with presents. He took the stairs two at a time, got the ring out of his nightstand and put it in his pocket. 

Proposing on Christmas Day was the perfect idea. It was a special day for them. They’d be surrounded by everyone they love. And he couldn’t wait a single day more. 

"Terry!" Henry slapped his hand in greeting as soon as the door opened. 

Higgins appeared in the background. 

"He’s set up a room for gaming. We probably won’t see them the entire evening."

"As long as we have enough rooms for playing," Rebecca replied dryly while handing Ted’s pecan pie to Higgins. 

"Don’t worry, we will."

"Good. It took me months to convince you to finally play running charades and I’m not about to risk it to the Fortnite whims of teens."

"She means business," Ted whispered to Higgins, the back of his hand covering his mouth. She swatted his side. "Ow!"

He knew for a fact that Rebecca had planned their charades for this year with a precision he was sure was only reserved for royal weddings. He loved her whacky like that. 

His eyes roamed the room. Beard was already there, with Jonah—Jane had decided she needed to do the pagan ritual on her own this year. Something about independent femininity. Nate and Jade had also arrived. But the person he absolutely needed to talk to wasn’t there yet. He nervously turned the ring box around in his hand, buried in his pocket.

"Are you okay, Ted?" Rebecca’s hand landed on his back, and though her touch was grounding, it made him startle as if he’d been caught with the hand in the cookie jar.

"Yeah, yeah. Just gotta talk to Roy, is all."

She cocked her eyebrow. The woman could read him like an Ikea instruction manual. He had to play it cool or else he’d be busted.

"Okay," she said slowly, carefully. "I’m gonna check the rooms with Leslie." 

When Roy and Keeley finally arrived, Ted moved fast. He inspected his surroundings. Rebecca was nowhere to be seen. He greeted them cheerily, hugged them—nothing out of the ordinary. 

"Hey Roy, I’ll get you a beer. Keels, wanna come with me to the kitchen? I’m not sure what kinda wine you want."

Smooth.

His pace to the kitchen was more akin to a power walking race than to a Christmas party. The kitchen was empty. Ted gestured Keeley inside, peeked right and left out of the door, then closed it.

Keeley looked at him, eyebrow raised, lips quirking up to the left.

"Ted, is everything alright?" 

"Yeah, yeah." He scratched the back of his neck, put a hand on the door handle, then back in his pocket.

"You sure? You’re acting— oh my God!" Her hands immediately covered her mouth. "Oh my God, Ted, you’re gonna propose?!"

He shushed her, looking around as if they weren’t entirely alone in the room. "What—? How did you—?"

"You’re acting all weird and you obviously want to talk to me about something, and you have that look in your face."

"What look in my—?" He tilted his head, then let out a puff of breath, shoulder sagging. "Never mind. Keels, I need your help."

"Oooh, do you want me to go with you to pick out the ring?"

"No, I already have the ring."

"Oh my God, you’re serious about this. So how are you gonna do it? Candlelight dinner? Ooh––are you gonna have the players write out Marry Me on the pitch? She loved it when you did that one time. Oooh! I know! You’re gonna bake the ring into her biscuits!"

"Keels! Keels!" He tried to lower her voice with his hands, pretty sure that everyone in the house could hear her excited shrieks. 

She stopped, really looking at him for the first time. His face had gone pale. His hand was gripping the back of a chair.

"What’s wrong?" she said, softly.

"I—I don’t know. I should want this, right? I do, I do want this." He looked at her, eyes dark, brows low. "I’m— I’m not sure if she wants me to." It came out as a whisper.

"To what? Do a big proposal?"

"No, I mean propose at all. Am I— Am I makin’ a big mistake here?" 

"Ted, you love her. She loves you. How is asking her to marry you a mistake?"

His feet started moving up and down the kitchen. "Y’know, if she hadn’t been married before, if I hadn’t— It’d all be easy, then. Easier. But it’s—" He plopped himself on one of the chairs with a sigh, hands framing his head. 

"But it's what?"

His jaw worked like he was chewing on something. After a beat, he answered with a pained voice. "She asked me to move in, Keels. She chose that. Look at what we have. It's perfect. I should be happy with it."

"But you want more than that."

"Yeah, and maybe that makes me—" He stopped himself.

"Makes you what?"

"What if I'm doing what Rupert did?" he whispered.

"Ted, you're nothing like that creepy old—"

"No, no, hear me out." His voice cracked slightly. "I keep thinking about how he... he decided what she should be. What her life should look like."

Keeley stayed quiet, watching him.

"He wanted to claim her, own her, make her into Mrs. Rupert Mannion. An' now here I am, wanting to make her Mrs. Ted Lasso, and what if I'm just—" He looked up at her, something desperate in his eyes. "What if by asking her to marry me I'm asking her to be mine instead of letting her choose to be with me?"

"Okay." Keeley took a breath. "Ted, have you asked her what she wants? Or are you just sitting here catastrophizing?"

Ted bobbed his head. "Yeah. The second one."

Keeley smiled, kneeled in front of Ted and took his hands in hers. "Okay, I need you to listen to me very carefully." Her voice was firm. "Rupert told Rebecca who to be. You see her for who she is. Rupert wanted her quiet and small and decorative. You love her loud and powerful and real. Rupert made decisions for her. You're terrified of asking her a question. You see the difference?"

Ted nodded while his eyes darted from left to right. Then he expelled a shaky breath.

"You're so busy trying not to be Rupert that you're forgetting Rebecca isn't that person anymore either. She chose you. She's not waiting for someone to give her permission to want things anymore. Ring or no ring, she knows that. And so do you." 

His eyes widened. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Now regarding how she views marriage… I’m not the one you should be having this conversation with." She pressed her lips together in a half-smile. Ted shook his head, his brain still catching up to everything said. Before he could reply, Keeley squeezed his hands, got up, grabbed a bottle of wine. When she reached the door, she turned around. "And Ted? You two are more than a mad fit couple on the cover of The Sun. Trust that."

Ted sat there for a moment, her words echoing, mind spinning. They were more than just a pretty-looking couple. They’d shown that time and again. So why couldn't he shake this feeling?

Asking for what he wanted—it felt selfish.

"No fucking way I’m running around the place. I’m not gonna fix my knee on Christmas," Roy barked. 

The running charades teams were starting to find each other with Leslie and Rebecca’s guiding. She stood in the living room, grinning, spine straight, like she was about to hand over the Roland-Garros trophy.

"Perfect," Rebecca said cooly, turning slightly to Roy. "Then you’ll be a guesser for your team."

Ted’s mind was all over the place. He’d been teasing with Rebecca all week about which team would win. He loved charades and was looking forward to playing. But the ring box in his pocket was burning a hole through his thigh. 

"Gaffer!" Roy’s voice startled him. "You’re in my team and you better focus."

"Yeah. Yeah, I’m here."

Running charades was bonkers. The Higgins’ house was transformed into a basketball court, with people running and stopping and changing direction. In the living room, four guessers sat next to each other, shouting wild guesses as another four people mimed while out of breath. In the rooms, people bumped into each other as they tried to find their clues. 

Ted sat in the living room waiting for his turn to run, his eyes fixed on Rebecca. She had laser concentration, had assigned the fastest runners in her team to go first, was shouting orders left and right when she wasn’t guessing. It was competitive madness. His grin threatened to make his jaw burst.

Then it was his turn to get his first clue. He ran up the stairs, ring bouncing in his pocket. When he turned to get into the bedroom, Thierry was coming out and they crashed into each other. They were lucky neither broke their nose. 

Ted grabbed his first clue and ran back downstairs while reading it. "The Proposal."

Crap.

Back in the living room, he kneeled in front of Roy.

"Knight!" Roy guessed. "King Arthur!"

Ted shook his head. His hand flew to the ring box before he caught himself. Rebecca was waiting for her next clue and observing him. 

Shit.

"Tying your shoelaces!"

Another head shake. Ted mimed getting a box out of his pocket and opening it in front of Roy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rebecca smirk.

"Business proposal! Indecent proposal! Basic Instinct!"

Rebecca laughed, head arched back, while Ted placed his hand over his heart, repeatedly miming getting out a box on one knee.

"The Proposal!" he finally got it right. Ted felt nauseous. There were definitely pearls of sweat running down his forehead. His eyes darted quickly at Rebecca, in an unconscious attempt to check whether she’d noticed.

Her expression had changed. Her smile had faded, her head tilted. Like there were pieces clicking in together for her. Like she understood what was going on.

Damn.

He quickly averted his eyes, making space for the next mime. Her next clue was up, and the moment passed as fast as it’d come.

He hadn’t been able to gauge her reaction. What had he seen exactly? Had she frowned? Was it fear in her eyes? Concern? 

If only he could guess what she wanted.

He needed a break. A moment to not think about marriage, proposals, weddings, or rings. The girls offered him a reprieve. Asking him about Henry, schooling him in gen alpha language. 

"You! In there!" Roy’s gruff voice was so loud in his ear that he jumped a few inches off the floor. He stood behind Ted, pointing towards the guest room turned coat room. 

Ted ducked his head.

"Apparently, coach wants to go over some strategy." He shrugged, then waved at the girls and continued to talk to Roy. "I’m pretty sure this could wait until tomorrow, but I understand."

Ted sat down on a pile of coats while Roy typed on his phone.

"Okay, Roy, what—?"

"Wait."

"Okay." Ted’s eyes roamed around the room. Roy now stood with his arms crossed next to the door. Beard walked in.

"Reporting for duty." He gave Roy a small salute, which Roy replied to with a curt nod. He grabbed a chair and sat backwards, hugging the backrest.

Before Ted could open his mouth, Leslie walked in. "Okay, what do we have here?" 

Ted’s eyes widened. Now he understood.

"Are we in here?" Nate asked, walking in while looking at his phone.

"We are now in fucking session or whatever," Roy said. There were short barks and howls. Ted looked at them with his brow furrowed, then proceeded a short woof.

"So, who has a problem they want to talk to on Christmas Day?" Ted looked around the room at his friends.

"You." All of them answered at the same time. 

Ted pointed his index finger at himself, brows raised. The ring box bulged out of his pants when he was sitting. As if it was shouting: idiot.

When Ted didn’t immediately talk, Roy rolled his eyes. "You’ve been acting weird all fucking day and looking at Rebecca like something’s up. Now out with it. I want a fucking normal Christmas party and not whatever the fuck that was during charades."

"Is that because we lost? I think you were just too much up in your head, I mean, why would you guess King Arthur—?"

"Ted!" Roy cut through his babbling. Ted bobbed his head. His eyes flew to the floor, then he looked up at each one of them.

"I’m thinkin’ bout proposing."

There was a round of awwww and that’s wonderful and congratulations.

"So where’s the problem?" Nate asked.

"I don’t know if Rebecca wants to get married."

"That’s why you ask," Leslie offered. The others nodded, Roy grunted his approval.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but— but ain’t I putting pressure on her just by askin’?" 

"Why would you?" Nate softly asked.

"Like, what if this is something only I want? What if she’s happy the way things are? That’d be selfish of me, to ask her for more."

"Again, it’s a proposal, not a kidnapping," Beard said. Nate snapped his hingers, then pointed his index at him. Leslie extended his opened palm with a small smile. Roy grunted his approval.

Ted rubbed the back of his neck, shifted in his seat, removed some coats from underneath his bottom. Then he shook his head, rubbing his palms against each other.

"It just feels off. Like I’m bein’ selfish. Like I’m—" he trailed off, stood up, started pacing the room, turning the ring box around in his pocket. Higgins, Nate and Beard looked at each other with brows furrowed.

"Coach," Beard’s soft voice cut through his internal spiral. "You’re not a selfish person. What’s this really about?"

Ted stopped pacing, right in front of Beard. He let out a long breath, eyes falling to the floor, then sat back down on the bed.

"I— I’ve made that mistake before." His eyes flicked quickly up to look at Higgins, then Beard. Then back to the floor. "Wantin’ too much. Not bein’ content with what I had."

The room fell silent. Out of the corner of his eye, Ted could see the others shoot each other looks.

"Bullshit," Roy barked. Ted’s eyes darted to him. "Stop feeding yourself that shit."

Ted’s eyes widened, and he let his gaze roam the room, checking if it was only Roy’s opinion.

"You’re allowed to want things, Ted." Higgins’ kind voice was good to hear but hard to believe.

"And Rebecca isn’t Michelle," Beard added. 

"No, but–– what if it wasn’t Michelle? What if it was me."

"What do you mean?" Nate tilted his head at him.

"What if Michelle was perfectly fine an’ it was my fault to want so much?"

Higgins uttered an oooof while Roy rolled his eyes and Beard shook his head vigorously.

"All people are different people, Coach. You taught me that. So what is too much for one person may be not enough for another."

"Did you guys know? When you proposed? Did you know if she was gonna say yes?"

"Oh, I was so nervous, I got diarrhea in the restaurant." Higgins wrinkled his nose at his own story.

"That’s brutal, Higgy-bottom. So sorry." 

"Jane yelled at me. Then kissed me. Then she said no. Then yes, then maybe, then yes again. It was a true roller-coaster. But I sometimes get that if I ask her what she wants for breakfast, so…"

"Man, I don’t know," Ted said, his voice more lively now. "With Michelle, I kinda just dove right in. Maybe that was a mistake. But I thought that was the noble thin’ to do, an’ now I think maybe it’s like I’m trappin’ her or somethin’."

"The new generation does have a very different view on marriage," Higgins replied, nodding. "Lindsay told us some stories about his work."

"Yeah, Hen was brutal. He almost killed me, was talkin’ bout marriage like it was a medieval torture device."

"Well, why do you want to get married?" Beard’s question made him gape. 

"I— I— I mean, that’s— I love her."

"That’s hardly news, though," Nate deadpanned. "Is it the safety of marriage?"

"No! No, that’s not— Marriage won’t make our relationship any safer or anything the like. It’s just a nice thing. I just— I want to. Does that make sense?"

"I think marriage is lovely," Nate added. "Love being married. Wouldn’t have it any other way."

"Exactly," Ted said, hand stretched out to Nate. "I don’t need the title, I don’t need an assurance. I just would like to make this the most official thing possible. I know I’m a sap, an’ it’s probably not modern, but just— Thinkin’ about callin’ Rebecca my wife, or just... making it official in front of everyone we love, makes me feel all sorts of—" He gestured vaguely around his belly. "—butterfly-y stuff and jelly-like knees and stuff."

"I think that’s nice," Higgins said with a sigh.

"Yeah," Nate added, "maybe old fashioned, but not selfish."

"Coach, all couples want different things sometimes," Beard explained. "We don’t know how Rebecca views this particular aspect. The real question here is: are you prepared to ask for what you want even if you get no for an answer?"

Ted paused, eyes wide, whistled. Mulled the words over. Then he looked at Nate. He just nodded.

"So I’m just offering this. As one possibility. One possible route our relationship can take."

"Exactly," Nate said. "A route you would love."

Ted nodded. "Somehow that’s scarier than doin’ it just because it’s what people do."

There was a choir of hums and yeahs.

"Your wants matter." Roy’s voice cut through the noise of the room. And wasn’t that a weird sentence to hear from him. Ted looked at him, blinked. "And if you don’t fucking trust her to deal with them, then that will be the bigger problem. Believe me, I’ve done that. Don’t follow on my fucking footsteps."

Leslie, Beard and Nate widened their eyes, nodded slowly. "Ooooh."

Ted clapped his hands once, then let his feet dangle off the floor. He clicked his tongue, head tilted, looking at Roy. "Man, Roy." His lips curled into a smile. He got up from the bed with a little jump, then patted Roy’s back. "You’re a gentleman and a scholar."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Just fucking ask her already."

Stood in the middle of the bedroom, hands in his pockets, index finger tracing the edges of the ring box, Ted turned around to look at the other Diamond Dogs.

"Thanks, guys. Let’s go celebrate Christmas. Diamond Dogs dismount!"

The howls and pants and barks were long and celebratory. Ted’s shoulders relaxed for the first time in the entire day. He exited the room with a broad smile plastered on his face.

"Finally it paid off to be on your team!" Keeley playfully bumped her shoulder with hers, as they sat on Higgins’ couch with mulled wine. 

"Running charades is the superior game," Rebecca said matter-of-factly, eyebrows lifted and head tilted.

Keeley giggled. "It’s a nice party. Remember last year when you were freaking out because you thought you might have made the wrong decision with Ted?"

"I did not! I was scared about going public, I wasn’t second-guessing the decision!"

"Yeah, but you were all squirmey and weird." 

Rebecca rolled her eyes. Then she went quiet. Keeley frowned.

"Ted’s been weird all day." Rebecca exhaled loudly, as if she’d just got ridden of a heavy load.

"Really? I haven’t noticed."

Rebecca looked at Keeley, eyes wide and eyebrow raised. "Did you see him at charades? He was sweating. And it wasn’t from running. And he’s been just—"

"Off?"

"Yes."

"But not like in September?" Keeley’s voice was soft, careful.

"No, not like in September." Rebecca’s voice was lower, darker.

Her chest felt heavy just thinking about it.

For three days in September, she’d seen the darkness in Ted, front and center. From one day to the next, no matter what she said, no matter what she did, she couldn’t reach him. Like there was only a shell of Ted in front of her.

It had scared her shitless. If she tried to talk to Ted about it, he’d leave the room. If she tried to hold his hand, he’d look away.

She’d seen him like this once. Just before he left London. She felt on the edge of a cliff. As if anything could change dramatically any second.

He’d stay up late at night, she wouldn’t sleep. In the morning, she’d find the contents of the Scotch bottle had halved.

On the fourth day, she woke up with a headache. It was her least favorite day of the year. It felt like a very bad joke of the universe. Feeling abandoned by Ted on the day her father had betrayed her.

So she decided it wouldn’t be her destiny. 

"Ted, I can’t do this." Her voice trembled. "You may be hurting yourself, but you’re not even letting me help."

She told him about how her father had abandoned her, thirty-five years ago to the day. How he’d left her with silence. How she didn’t want to have that in her life anymore. That she needed him to tell her something.

He listened the entire time. Looked at her with soft eyes.

"I’m sorry." He threw his arms around her, his tears falling on her blazer. "I’m sorry that happened to you and I feel horrible that I made you feel like that."

"It’s okay, baby." She hushed him, cradling his head, caressing his neck. "I’m okay. I just need to know what’s going on."

So he told her. They both cried and held each other. They were exhausted after.

He told her he wasn’t going anywhere.

It took weeks for Ted to stop feeling guilty—even though she kept reminding him she didn’t need perfection, she just needed him. 

It took months for her to stop fearing he’d leave.

"That was scary as fuck," Rebecca told Keeley, the images of those days still blending in her mind.

"But if you got through that together, you’ll get through anything. Even whatever the hell has Ted funky today."

Something in Keeley’s voice made Rebecca suspicious.

"You— You wouldn’t know anything about—?"

"Was that howling?" Keeley interrupted. And what the hell, yes, that sounded like howling. 

"What in the—?"

Keeley and Rebecca looked at each other. Then Roy entered the room, looking around like he’d just been doing something forbidden. Then Leslie followed him, straightening his shirt. Nate strutted into the room (strutted!). 

Beard and Ted followed them, engaging in easy conversation.

When Ted arrived at their couch, Rebecca raised her eyebrows at him.

"Are you alright?" Her eyes searched his face.

He hummed, placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Couldn’t be better."

"Did you just go into a room and howl?"

The tips of his ears turned red. "Just warming up for our song."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "About that. Did you say Nate brought his violin?"

"Yeah."

"Good." 

She had balls. No news there. But he loved how she slowly discovered what she wanted and made it happen. In the club, in their home, with their friends. 

So even though the song she picked out had a few more insults than his usual liking, he looked forward to the show. To celebrating messiness with his people.

Higgins started them off on the piano and he took the first verse, giving his best rendition of a drunken slur.

When he sang I've got a feeling this year's for me and you, he smiled to himself. That was an understatement of sorts. The feeling was growing bigger by the minute. 

So happy Christmas

I love you, baby

He sang looking at her, and she laughed. The unguarded one that was meant for him. The one that showed all her teeth, that glassy twinkle in her eye, and made her ponytail swing.

Nate joined with the violin and Dana with an Irish whistle. Rebecca sang without holding back, with unadulterated indignation as if she was Kirsty MacColl herself. 

In the first moments, he froze. Staging a fight in front of everyone, even if it was in song, made something inside his chest clench. 

He hated fighting. It didn’t feel safe.

When they had their first fight, he thought he would throw up. The sheer force of Rebecca’s reaction made him freeze. She was livid. Her nose flared, she stood what felt like five feet taller than usual, hands on her hips.

He desperately wanted to appease her, but his body betrayed him. It stood still, didn’t even allow him to form words. Palms sweating, heart racing, limbs numb, mouth dry. He was scared of what he’d say—that he’d hurt her, that he’d drive her away.

She looked at him, chest heaving more the quieter he was. And then she begged him to say what he was thinking. 

Not to leave, not to give space.

No, she asked him to take up space. She wanted to see him fully, even angry.

"I want to love you the way you deserve, but for that I need to see all of you, Ted."

Oof. If that wasn’t the most romantic thing he’d ever heard. 

But it wasn’t easy. It was a steep learning curve. Rebecca was assertive. 

"I’m angry and I love you," she told him. "Both can be true at the same time."

So he learnt not to flinch. He learnt to stay there. He learnt that fighting wasn’t selfish. No, it was acknowledging his own needs and Rebecca’s. It was partnership.

So yes, he could stage a little fight for their song. It was okay.

Everyone joined them for the chorus, Rebecca winked at him, and he loosened. The entire room vibrated with joy, punctuated by Dana’s airy whistle.

Happy Christmas your arse

I pray God it's our last

He looked around. Henry was dancing with Terry and Phoebe. The players were linking arms with drinks in their hands, singing off-key. This was his life now. 

And it wasn’t just a snapshot. It went on like this. Every morning when he woke and Rebecca was the first thing he saw. Every day at work. Every evening when Henry told him and Rebecca stories about his day at dinner.

He leaned into the song, into the theatrics, even more.

If anyone could weather the storm, it was them. Yeah, he was sure. It would take way more than a single question to make them be off kilter.

Now he just needed to know when and where. Though he had a feeling the situation would present itself.

Rebecca was breathless from singing and dancing. She looked at Ted, chest heaving, face hurting from all the smiling. His hair was all over the place, sweaty strands of hair falling on his forehead. 

"I think I need some fresh air. Are you up for some star gazing?"

"Heck yeah."

She took his hand and made her way through the crowded room.

The gust of cold air was refreshing. They stood close, keeping each other warm. She circled her arm around his waist, dropped her head on his shoulder.

He hummed—a grounding rumble she felt in her own body. The neighbor’s fairy lights twinkled on the other side of the garden. It was quiet out there, no car horns, no kids playing outside. Just the cold night air, the green grass, the vast sky, and them.

She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were cast far off into the distance, brow slightly knit.

"You want to talk about it?" Her voice was soft and low. 

"Bout what?"

"Whatever it is that has you like this." She drew her thumb over his brow. 

"Not really."

"Okay." 

He was being cagey. Very much unlike him. But she knew sometimes he needed time to figure out things on his own. And she trusted him with that.

"Where are all the stars?" she exclaimed, outraged that the sky wasn’t giving them its usual display on Christmas.

He chuckled. "Clouds."

She sighed. "Well, I don’t need to find the North Star anyway."

"No?" His head turned slightly to look down at her.

"No. I’m exactly where I need to be." He drew a sharp breath, let it out slowly. Then placed a kiss on her forehead.

"And it’s exactly where I’ll be tomorrow," she continued, voice dreamy. "And the day after. And until—"

"Until you get bored of me?"

She shifted to face him fully, shook her head. He put his hands gently around her waist. 

His eyes had a sparkle. That look like he didn’t believe the reality of what was happening. Like back in Liverpool when she told him she was done waiting. Like right after she told him she was in love with him.

Her lips curved into a smile and she shook her head gently.

"Until the stars burn out."

God, if that man hadn’t made a sap out of her. 

His eyes softened. She felt him melt into her more. Shoulders sagging, arms moulding to the curve of her waist like water. 

He kissed her softly, tasting her, savoring her. 

It was these little moments that still roamed her mind when she went to bed. When she closed her eyes and the darkness engulfed her. Then these little glimmers flashed before her closed eyelids and she could let herself fall into unconsciousness. Taking with her these precious diamonds.

When their lips parted and she opened her eyes, his expression had changed. 

His soft look was more distant, like measuring something. One hand traveled to his pocket. Which was weird. When he was thinking about something, he’d usually have both hands in his pocket. Not one.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. His eyebrows shot up. He took a sharp inhale. It almost seemed as if he was bending his knees. Or one knee?

Her eyes roamed his face. Something tightened in her stomach.

"Ted?"

There was another beat of silence. "Yeah." He nodded, then closed his arms around her, inhaling her scent. 

She let herself fall into his embrace, feeling the weight of his body, the warmth of it. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest. His hands roamed her back impatiently, nervously, like they couldn’t find a place to rest.

Her chest raised with a deep sigh and he tightened his embrace. As if he was saying, don’t go. As if he was scared. She buried her nose in the nook of his neck. Taking him in. Taking his presence in. 

She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but her body was still reeling from it. It almost looked as if he was going to—. No. She pushed the thought away.

She’d had big gestures and public displays before. Those could tell lies. And even though there was a part of her that just hoped he was about to do what she thought he was going to do… having someone choose to love her every day, every minute—no, having Ted choose to love her every day—that was everything she needed. 

She had promised him forever. Right then and there, in the garden, in an ordinary moment—as ordinary as Christmas gets, anyway. 

And gone it was. That little voice inside of him that he hadn’t even known was there. That had whispered, do you think she really wants this? How could she want this?

So he’d cherished it. Her promise, her candid words. It hadn’t been the moment to ask. No, he’d locked that promise in his heart and he’d carry it forever. 

Ted enjoyed the rest of the party with a lighter spirit. Henry ran around with Terry, Phoebe and Dana. Daphne and Julia challenged him to a game of darts. Roy, Keeley and Rebecca laughed non-stop on the couch. 

When they decide to leave, Ted went to get their coats. He walked out of the guest room and the moment he turned his head up, he saw Rebecca. Standing close to the door, talking to Henry whether they should leave the rest of the pie here or take it home with them. Home. 

He stopped, taking the scene in, warmth spreading in his chest. His hand went into his pocket, found the ring box, fumbled around with it.

Then he looked up. Rebecca was standing under the mistletoe. Hen was right there, his first Christmas with them. Everyone was laughing, enjoying themselves. Keeley, Roy, Beard, Higgins, Nate—everyone who had helped him tonight, everyone they loved—they were all still there. He could do it now. Get down on one knee, ask her. She’d say yes (hopefully), they’d kiss, everyone would cheer. Everyone would be part of it. 

His hand stopped, hand tight. He narrowed his eyes. 

Then he saw it crystal clear. 

Tomorrow morning. Sun rays bathing their room. Her sleepy eyes, her curls. That smile that she saved just for him. In bed. Before Henry woke up. Before she had makeup on, before the world existed. 

His chest expanded, his hand loosened the grip on the ring box.

That was what she deserved. 

No big displays, no pressure. She’d had that before. No, this was about them. The little moments as much as the big ones. 

He looked at her, smiling, gesticulating something at Henry. His hands flattened his mustache. Yes. Yes, that was perfect. It was them. 

Smiling, he crossed the distance between them, heart beating fast and steady. He heard Rebecca’s laugh, the noises of dozens of people in the background. It was all muffled, and it felt as if someone was slowing everything down.

"Hen, bud, can you take these for me a second?" He handed Henry their coats. 

Rebecca looked at him, eyebrow lifted.

"What are you—?"

He pointed up at the mistletoe with a grin.

Her lips curled. "Well, we can't break tradition."

He crossed to her, movements deliberate. Cupped the back of her head with one hand, placed the other on her lower back. 

"No," he murmured. "We can't."

He kissed her. Properly. 

And then he dipped her low, holding her secure as cheers and whistles erupted around them. 

His hands tingled. The good kind. 

He was sure his pupils were widened and his chest heaving. But she—she looked positively gorgeous. Skin alight, cheeks pink, eyes glistening. 

After he pulled her upright, her eyes searched his face.

"What’s gotten into you today?" Her voice was filled with wonder. Breathless. 

He looked at her. At the woman who'd promised him forever in a garden. Who was coming home with him and their son. 

Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow I'll ask you to marry me.

He shrugged. "It’s Christmas."

His grin was suspicious. He didn’t care. He knew what to do, when and how. 

In the car, Henry didn’t stop talking. That he’d loved the party. That British Christmas songs were the best. That he’d brag about how he’d partied with Sam Obisanya and Thierry Van Damme. That he’d like to spend Christmas with them every year. 

Ted and Rebecca looked at each other. Their hearts expanded, squeezed, jumped. 

He saw her laugh, free and wild.

Tomorrow, he thought. 

She took his hand in hers. Warm, steady. Relaxed. 

Forever, she thought. 

Epilogue

She said yes.