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believemetheodore · 1 year

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Northern Attitude pt. 4

Ted Lasso x Rebecca Welton

Divorce is hard. it doesn't matter if you're the one who got left, or you're the one doing the leaving. When an unexpected blizzard puts a dangerous twist in Ted's hiking adventures he's rescued by an axe-wielding, lumber-chopping, blonde angel. Oh, and there's only one bed.

Warnings: divorce mentions, mentions of Ted's dad, implied sex, let me know if you want me to add anything.

(Side note: this was supposed to be 3 chapters max. But now it's going to be 5. Apparently, I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings)

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In like a Lion, out like a lamb. The heavy winds and torrid icy weather fade quietly into a green spring. Rain becomes white noise beating against windows and rooftops. Ted wonders what the trees along the trails in the park must look like with their new leaves; how many new critters, and returning ducks must be enjoying the foliage and the defrosted lakes and rivers?

He thinks about Rebecca daily. Hoping that she’s staying dry and warm as the new season’s downpours water the ground, and nature’s renewed life.

Henry catches a cold in early April. A Saturday afternoon of splashing around in puddles and playing freeze-tag in the rain left him with sniffles and a chill. Ted makes soup from scratch, just like his mother used to make, and Henry seems content to watch movies on the couch in between bouts of sleep. The two of them end up missing the baseball game they were supposed to attend, but Ted couldn’t care less.

“Can we watch it on the TV?” Henry asks. “Sure bud, so long as you think you’re going to be comfortable enough on the couch”.

When his fever spikes, the boy curls up close to Ted’s side, his face buried against his chest. He can’t stand seeing Henry ill, but with his eyes shut, and his breathing slow and deep as he dreams, Ted remembers holding him when he was born. He recalls the promises he made to keep his little boy safe, to make sure he always feels loved.

There’s a guilt that creeps in; a sorry sort of feeling as he holds his son closer, guessing how much longer he’ll be able to take care of Henry in this way. Soon, he’ll be too tall to curl up next to him, too heavy for Ted to carry him up to his bed, too grown to want to seek out his comfort.

He wonders if this might be the last time for all of those things. How many ‘last times’ have come and gone already, without either of them noticing?

Ted doesn’t remember the last diaper he changed, or the last time he woke up at 3 am for an early morning feed. He struggles to recall the last time Henry asked to be picked up or the last time he needed a parent to give him a bath.

His mother was always free with her affections; she still plants kisses on his cheeks and forehead when he goes to see her. His mom was always a hugger and never had a problem telling him she loved him. No matter how old he got, Ted was always her baby, as embarrassing as he found her adoration he understood it.

His dad talked a lot. There was never any mystery about Ted’s inherited loquacious nature. But, his father rarely shared his feelings. Ted can see now that while he never said anything, there was love in all his actions.

Ted didn’t understand as a kid why his father asked him so many questions about his day. He couldn’t wrap his head around why his dad might care about what he learned at school, or what games he’d played with his friends after school. He never thought to care about why his dad was always the parent who volunteered to stay home when he was sick.

He remembers being about Henry’s age, home sick from school, and feeling awful about his dad having to miss work. He worked so much and so often, Ted had always assumed he must’ve enjoyed his job, but when Ted cried as his father set down a plate of toast, and a glass of watered-down ginger ale for him he asked; “Why would I want to be anywhere else? You’re here?”

Ted hadn’t had a good enough answer so he only shrugged. “Being your dad is the best job I could ever have,” he assured him before adding conspiratorially, “And between you and I, it’s nice getting to play hooky”.

In memories of his father, Ted sees himself. So worried about being too much for others, never brave enough to actually wear his heart on his sleeve. He can hear the love his father gave him in his own laughter, and penchant for jokes. He feels his father’s fears when he looks at Henry, concerned that he’s failing to remember the tiniest of moments, perturbed by the prospect of missing the bigger moments too.

. Ted knows he needs to do better in order to be better. He knows the best thing he can do is stop bottling everything up, he can’t take care of the people he loves if he doesn’t look after himself first.

So, when his sleepless nights and restless days return, he books two weeks off of work, determined to return to the place he felt at peace, in the interest of collecting up the pieces of himself he’s allowed to fall by the wayside.

He doesn’t know if Rebecca is still there, in her cabin in the woods, nor does it really matter. Every moment he had with her was more than enough if that’s all he gets. He’s made peace with that. This trip is for himself, he knows no one can fix him but himself. It wasn’t Michelle’s job, and it’s not Rebecca’s, but Ted knows that the days he spent hiking, and cozied up on Rebecca’s sofa made him want to be a finer version of himself.

Beard had noticed in the day following his return to work his attempts to be kinder to himself, commenting on how it was about time Ted started taking some of his own advice. He felt more complete, somehow more whole, and far more centred than he had been in years, and he wants to feel that way again.

The drive out of town is shadowed by thoughts of his father. Every dart game they played together, and the first one they never got to play together. His heart holds his rage, and his grief in equal measure. It feels an awful lot like fear when it claws its way out his throat, digging into his rib cage, and pressing on his lungs.

He has to pull over. Choking on his own breaths.

Fathers and sons. They’ve written enough songs about it-- Ted wonders how many different forms the same type of guilt can take, and he can only hope he doesn’t pass it down to Henry.

The park is unrecognizable from when Ted last wandered the trails. As he expected, the trees are all in bloom, bright green leaves leaving kaleidoscope shapes across the forest floor with the light shining above the canopies. The hills and valleys have become home to fresh bursts of tall grass, and sprawling plants. The chattering sounds of the birds and bugs prove to be a constant soundtrack for his hike up the first hill.

His pack is lighter this trip, no heavy sweaters, or thermal pants to lug around. His knees and his back appreciate the lack of snow, each step he takes now feels half as heavy, and the same trek he took months ago takes half the time it did before. By noon, Ted passes the first cabin he stayed in previously. He stops to drink his water, and have a snack; stretching out his legs before resuming his journey.

It’s raining now, but Ted doesn’t bother to stop to slip his raincoat on. The dirt turns to mud beneath his feet, and he only slows his pace to tread more carefully. He silently thanks the branches overhead for their natural umbrella, filtering the downpour into a drizzle for him.

Rebecca’s cabin is harder to find now that the foliage is in it’s fullest state, but the puffs of chimney smoke serve as a beacon, leading his way off the gravel trails, and down the hill on beaten footpaths, carved out by repeated travel rather than official travel suggestions.

When he climbs the steps up to the front porch, and knocks on the door, he gets no response. She isn’t home, and as the rain begins to fall harder in the small clearing he can only hope she’s dressed warmly, and keeping relatively dry. He settles on the top step, covered by the awning, watching the raindrops leave pockmarks on the softened ground. A chill runs up his spine as the wind blows and he hopes Rebecca will return soon.

Ted knows what his mother would’ve told him about showing up at people’s homes unannounced, and a part of him feels dreadfully rude, but as the sun begins to set he finds his concern over Rebecca’s well-being is enough to override the fear of intrusion.

He has no plans of making himself her guest again, he only wants to say thank you again, and visit the woman he’s decided to consider a friend. He’s packed his own food, and he knows where the guest cabins are. He’ll be off and on his way once she’s home.

“Ted?” her voice shakes him from his drifting thoughts as she approaches, her slide of firewood trailing behind her. Her face is hidden by the hood of her black and white raincoat, but he grins at the sight of her baby pink rainboots.

He’s down the steps without thinking, helping her load the wood into the shed next to the house.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, slipping off her hood to get a better look at him. “The four seasons aren't just a cool band or a swanky hotel chain. I had winter all checked off. Thought it might be fun to collect the other three”.

“I can’t believe you came back,” she’s smiling, though there are tears in her eyes when she pulls him into a tight hug. He’s sure it’s more than just the joy of seeing him that’s got her tearing up. But, he doesn’t ask, he just holds her closer.

“We should get inside before one of us catches a cold,” She states, pulling away, and nodding her head towards the door.

The cabin is cozier than the last time he saw it if that’s even possible. The fire needs to be stoked, but still casts its shimmering orange light. He takes it in as they slip out of muddied boots, and drenched outer layers.

She’s hung artwork on the walls, wildflowers, and butterflies in lifelike watercolour studies. The throw pillows, and blankets on the couch have changed too. Plusher fabrics, even more pastels, and fun colours liven up the space. But the brightest thing in the room, without a doubt, is her.

Rebecca’s hair curls at odd, uneven angles, and sticks to her cheeks and forehead in its damp state. Her cheeks are pink from the wind and the cold spring rain, and she is an absolute vision. Prettier than he could’ve remembered her, and if the sparkle in her eye, and her Cheshire grin are anything to go by, she’s happy.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. “I usually don’t show up places without an invite--”. “It’s okay,” She cuts him off, “I’m glad you’re here”.

“I didn’t come empty-handed though!” She watches silently, bemused, as he shuffles through his bag before digging out a plastic food container, with a small pink box inside. He hands it to her.

“What is this?” “Take a peak,” he encourages, eyes wide and buzzing with excitement.

Biscuits. He made her biscuits. It was the least he could do.

She takes a bite, and he watches her enjoy herself.

“Is there anything better than a food that makes you feel all warm and snuggly inside?” he wonders aloud.

She shakes her head in response, setting the box down on her kitchen counter,

“Ted?”

“Mhmm?” She stands in front of him now, closer than she was before. Her hand brushes his elbow, moving up to rest on his chest between them. “I think you should kiss me”. “Great minds think alike,” it’s not difficult for him to agree; his left hand is warm against her wind-chilled skin when he leans in to kiss her.

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso x rebecca welton #tedbecca #tedbecca fanfic #northern attitude

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