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He’s drifting, not yet asleep, but not quite awake, when the dinging of his phone makes him startle.
(He’d been listening to a podcast, just at that stage where the thread of the narrative is being pulled loose because you’re dozing through every other sentence. He liked having the company of the hosts, their voices soothing him to sleep. Even when it was so darn effective that it could take him the better part of two weeks to finish an episode.)
He squints at his phone and any disappointment about being brought back to full consciousness dissolves when he sees it’s a message from Rebecca. He hits play on the voice note she’s sent.
Teeehd. Are you awake?
He can’t help but smile. She’s whispering - it’s a pretty loud whisper, and it didn’t make an iota of difference to the volume of the message alert that had woken him, but he appreciates the thought.
I’m awake honeybunch. Everything okay?
When she’d finally managed to secure a whole evening with Keeley, he’d encouraged her to take full advantage. He knows they had plans to go eat tapas and drink cocktails and laugh at maximum volume before collapsing back at hers. It’s not quite eleven, and he wonders what stage of the plan they’re currently at. Based on the time, and the volume of the whisper, he’s pretty confident the cocktail drinking has definitely happened, is maybe still in progress. He doesn’t need to wonder for long as his phone lights up with her incoming call.
“Hey sugarplum. Are you having a good night?”
“Urgh you’re too fucking cute.”
And apparently he’s on speaker. “Hey Keeley,”
“We’ve had such a good night…”
“...but the food was like really tiny and the cocktails were really big, and your gorgeous girlfriend says you make the best snacks, so…”
“…we wondered if it would be okay if we popped in?”
Even on a phone call he can practically hear her eyelashes fluttering and his heart grows a little. She’s not good at asking for things. It doesn’t come naturally to her. So even if it’s late, even if it’s margarita (and Keeley Jones) assisted, the fact she chose to call him makes him feel pretty darn good.
“How could I possibly turn away two damsels in distress. Whereabouts are y -”
Before he can finish his sentence the doorbell sounds.
“Well I guess that answers that question. Gimme a second…”
He hoicks himself out of bed, pulls a hoodie on over his PJs, and buzzes them up. When he opens the front door, Keeley elbows her way past Rebecca with a decisive me first and flings herself on him, limbs wrapping around him on impact like one of those slap bracelets that Henry couldn’t seem to stop playing with this summer. For a small person she has quite the impact on his center of gravity but he manages to keep himself upright.
“I missed you!” She loosens her grip and slides down him, giving him a smacking kiss on the cheek before announcing “I need to pee,” and dashing past him.
That just leaves Rebecca, standing in the hallway, looking cocktail flushed and, well, beautiful obviously, but also - nervous? She’s biting her lip and she hasn’t made any move to come in yet.
“And was this all Miss Jones’ idea or did you miss me too?”
She smiles. “Maybe just a teeny bit. Are you sure this is okay, barging in like this?”
“Are you kidding? This place is made for bargin’. Especially when the bargee is one of my favourite people.” He pulls her in and kisses her thoroughly enough to leave her in no doubt that he’s pleased to see her. “C’mon, we best not leave a hungry Keeley unattended,” and he takes her hand and tugs her inside.
They’re still holding hands when they enter the kitchen much to Keeley’s delight. “Aww, you two are adorable. It makes me want to puke.”
“Let’s see what I can do to settle your stomach then. What are you ladies in the mood for?” He’s perusing the contents of the fridge. “I could do an omelette?”
“Bleuch. Sorry Ted, I live with an ex-professional athlete, I could happily never see another omelette again.”
“Okay, I get that. I’ve got bacon, I could do you some of that and some french toast? Ooh I think I’ve got a Pot Noodle in the cupboard y’all could share?”
Rebecca pauses from making drinks to shoot him a look that makes it very clear that even Drunk Rebecca has some standards, and comes to survey the fridge with him, chin on his shoulder, arms around his waist.
“I’ve got cheese…” He feels rather than sees that he’s caught her interest, shakes his head fondly as he realises that while he was carefully giving her options, she knew exactly what she wanted before he even opened the front door. He straightens up and this time he gets the full visual of the eyelash flutter.
“Could we have toasties?”
“I’m sorry honeybunch, toasties? I don’t think I know how to make a toastie.”
She sighs. “We’re doing this are we? Alright Dick Van Dyke, can I get a grilled cheese?”
“Wow, you two are both, like, really bad at accents.”
Rebecca whirls round with only a tiny wobble. “No we’re bloody not!”
Ted steadies her with hands on her waist. “Well said sweetheart, we are both exceptionally talented, and honestly Keeley, I’m just sorry you don’t have a sophisticated enough ear to appreciate it.”
Rebecca gives a satisfied little hmph, and sticks her tongue out at Keeley - so there - before grabbing their drinks and going to collapse on the sofa.
He gets to work, heating a pan, buttering the bread. There’s something that settles in him as he putters around, assembles the sandwiches, drops one in the pan. The ease of preparing something he’s made a hundred times before. The smell takes him back to where home used to be, while the sound of happy voices from the living room keeps him right here. He loves having people in his space, has always enjoyed being a host. Something about being surrounded by friends and loved ones, but with a purpose; the chance to take care of them but with the built in excuse of something to check on in the kitchen if he needs a moment.
He takes the sandwiches through to the girls, plated up with some little Stars and Stripes napkins that were left over from the belated 4th July party he’d held when Henry had been over in the summer. They’re received with delighted faces and wide smiles and a squeeze to his thigh at a height that’s just the wrong side of decent but he can’t bring himself to mind.
As he cleans up, he can hear them talking between mouthfuls. His mama always told him that eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves, but this isn’t really that. They know he’s right there, and they’re perfectly content to continue their conversation regardless.
“Could you look a bit more content babe? You’re glowing.”
“I’ve had a whole evening with my fabulous best friend, and I’m eating carbs with melted cheese, why wouldn’t I be content?”
“The fact that the chef is looking at you like he can’t wait to devour you doesn’t hurt either.”
There’s an undignified snort, before they dissolve into scandalised giggles and then there’s quiet as (he assumes) they concentrate on eating for a while.
“Sometimes I think about how different it all is from someone policing my every mouthful. I can’t quite believe I’ve been this lucky.”
“Urgh. I know assaulting a pensioner wouldn’t be a great PR move but you say the word and I’ll do it in a heartbeat. You’re right where you’re meant to be now though. I can’t think of two people who deserve it more.”
“Ted deserves every single good thing.”
“And so do you babe”
With nothing left to clean, and keen that they don’t totally forget he’s in earshot, he makes his way through to the living room where they’re curled up together.
“I’ll admit it Ted, Rebecca was right, this is really fucking good.”
“It’s perfect. And your sofa is much comfier than the stools at the kebab shop.”
“We might have to end all our girls’ nights here from now on.”
“Well I’ll be sure to keep the fridge stocked up just in case.” He can’t help but notice they both look ready to drop. “Did you wanna crash here? It’s a li’l bit cosy but you ladies could have the bed, and I’ll take the couch?”
Keeley gives him a curious look. “That’s a really sweet offer. But I’ve ordered a cab, early start tomorrow. Also, you are like way too tall to sleep on that sofa and I know someone who wouldn’t be too happy if you put your back out.” She adds a lascivious wink in case he was in any doubt what Rebecca might need him in peak physical condition for, earning an eye roll from Rebecca and a blush from him.
Ted sees Keeley to her car when it arrives (he wanted to make sure she got in safely, and even if Rebecca had made it down the stairs without falling over he’s not sure that she’d have made it back up again).
By the time he gets to the bedroom with a glass of water for now and a pack of headache pills for the morning, she’s already helped herself to a tee shirt and tucked herself into his bed. He sheds his hoodie and slides in next to her, and he’s barely horizontal before she curls herself around him, slipping a warm hand under his tee shirt.
She smells of champagne and toothpaste but there’s an absence of the fragrances that he now knows make up her nighttime skin routine and he misses it (he knows she will too in the morning).
Her hair tickles his chin and he tucks it behind her ear. Hesitates just a moment before remembering all the ways she shows him she wants to be with him and sets the thought free instead of holding it in. “You know, you could leave some things here. If you’d like. Make it easier when you spend the night.”
She snuggles in even closer, her fingers gently running up his side as she speaks into his chest. “I could do that. Or, you could just move all your things to mine? Then you’d always be there for me to come home to.”
He tries not to let it thrill him, knows she’s had more than a few drinks and her mouth is probably running away with her. But he can’t help the warmth that spreads through him at the thought of any part of her subconscious wanting more of him.
“Maybe we should wait and see what Sober Rebecca thinks of that idea. Seven days a week of this guy? I mean that’s a lot. Not for the fainthearted.”
There’s no reply to that. He listens to her deep breaths and realises she’s already passed out and that’s fine. He’s happy she’s here, happy she’s comfortable. Happy to have had her even put that out there as a possibility. Careful not to jostle her too much, he gets one arm free enough to reach under his pillow. He retrieves an earbud and lets his podcast friends lull him back to sleep.
**
The next morning he’s up and out bright and early. A match day means pregame preparations with the other coaches. He leaves Rebecca still out for the count, doesn’t disturb her, figuring sleep wouldn’t be the worst thing for her hangover and she still has a while before she needs to be in boss mode.
As he walks through club gates, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. By the time he’s made it through the locker room and into the coaches’ office, put down his coffee, and divested himself of his rucksack, it’s already done so twice more. He pulls it out, and for the second time in twelve hours, smiles when he sees who it is.
8.41. Thanks for last night. Hope we weren’t too awful. Thank you for the paracetamol 🤕
8.42 You do make the best snacks. I’m glad we came.
8.44 I’m not saying we should rush anything, but just for the record... Sober Rebecca thinks seven days a week sounds wonderful 💜