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“You’re going to sell the club back to me, Rebecca, and I am going to clean up your mess, and then I’m going to fire that idiotic, empty-headed embarrassment of a manager that you have such a soft spot for –”
In a moment of what she would later consider either temporary insanity or the most sane moment of her entire life, Rebecca planted her feet on the ground, pulled back, and punched Rupert in the face.
“You keep your fucking twat mouth shut about him,” she snapped.
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There's a little pink note on Ted's calendar. Or, five times Ted calls her 'Becca' and one time she tells him she likes it.
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Rebecca should have known that the universe would conspire against her and ruin her plans by giving her a soulmate that would ruin everything.
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"Don't go shaving my mustache now," he warns playfully, hands splaying and settling atop her thighs, squeezing gently.
"Wouldn't dream of it.”
A thick tension permeates the room as she gently lathers up the shaving cream and spreads it over his cheeks, her fingers strong and sure and certain and gentle. Something warm and heavy settles in his chest as he finds himself the focus of her attention.
“Okay?” she asks, dipping her hands into the water to rinse the foam off. He nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat, unable to explain that this one simple act--something no one has ever done for him--is slowly undoing him.
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Summary
Five times Ted and Rebecca need a +1 for an event and the one time it's not a favour.

