Many A New Day

by Mindy35

A night out at an awards ceremony with some of the Richmond gang. Ted and Rebecca banter and slow dance. That's it. That's the fic.

Title: Many a New Day
Author: mindy35

Rating: K
Disclaimer: Characters/lyrics don't belong to me, no money made
Spoilers: through s1
Pairing: Ted/Rebecca
Summary: A night out at an awards ceremony with some of the Richmond gang. Ted and Rebecca banter and slow dance. That's it. That's the fic.

---

Why should a woman who is healthy and strong
Blubber like a baby if her man's goes away?
A weepin' an' a whalin' how he's done her wrong
That's one thing you'll never hear me say

She glances at the clock on the console. The evening traffic is thick and she's going to be a little late. Not that she was looking forward to dilly-dallying on the red carpet and making small talk in the foyer. Her nerves are bad enough as is. A glass of red wine while getting her hair done helped. As does the brand new dress that sucks her in and plumps her out and glides over the length of her legs.

Rebecca smooths a hand over the fabric encasing her breasts, pats delicately at the back of her hair. The traffic begins to move and her car picks up speed. She may be anxious but she's also excited. It's a new era and who knows: Richmond may even stand a chance of winning tonight.

-x-

Never gonna think that the man I lose is the only man among men
I'll snap my fingers to show I don't care
I'll buy me a brand new dress to wear
I'll scrub my neck and I'll brush my hair
And start all over again

Ted helps her up the stairs.

The foyer is carpeted in plush red but the marble staircase is not. As all the buff and glamourous attendees begin to filter into the auditorium for the ceremony, she glances up at the slippery ascent and almost – almost – regrets her choice of footwear. She's attending alone but part of her still has an unconscious habit of reaching for an arm to cling to.

Rebecca lifts the skirt of her gown and moves toward the foot of the staircase. Just as she takes a breath and a step, an elbow juts towards her.

"May I?" Ted murmurs with his usual bright eyes and easy smile.

She smiles. He's in the same suit – probably his only suit – but it fits him perfectly. His hair is neatly slicked back and he sports a different tie. Blue rather than pink. Whether in a suit or sweats though, he exudes an ease she can only aspire to.

Rebecca curls her arm around his. "Thank you, Ted."

He glances down at her strappy silver heels as they ascend with the throng. "Don't know how you do anything in those things, Boss."

He places his free hand on her arm as if this will steady her. She's hardly surprised that he read her predicament in an instant, coming out of nowhere to her rescue. Something about her body language must have given her away, betrayed an uncertainty that wasn't entirely about navigating that slippery stairway. But then that's what Ted does, it's what makes him so good at his job. He reads people with expert precision.

"They're an emancipation statement," she admits, holding her breath until they reach the top. "Rupert always hated that I was taller than him. For years, I wore kitten heels—"

Ted screws up his nose. "Kitten heels?"

She's too busy concentrating on not falling on her face in front of legions of cameras to dispel the image of her former self as a Cruella De Vil-like villain who skinned baby cats for fashion. "For promotional photos," she simply goes on, "he'd make sure I wore flats."

His head wags in disapproval. "Sonovabitch..."

"But not anymore." She faces him as they reach the landing, squaring her shoulders and pulling up to her full height. "Now, I will tower over any man I damn well please."

Ted nods once, gazing up at her with frank admiration. "And you do with style. S'downright thrilling if y' ask me." Before she can smile or respond, he points downwards, circling a finger at her feet. "Just make sure you stretch out your calves at the end of every day."

Her head tilts, her lips lift. "Yes, Coach."

He trails her to the entrance, adding with a genial shrug, "I could even give you some ankle strengthening exercises if you like. Anything to assist the emancipation…"

She glances sideways at him as they linger on the threshold. Ted rocks on his heels a little, hands in pockets. They're two of the last to enter but he seems in no rush. He gives her a moment to survey the crowd in all their finery, the tables likewise sparkingly bedecked, the dimly lit ballroom buzzing with gossip and gush.

Then he waves a hand, "After you," and accompanies her to their table.

-x-

Many a new face will please my eye
Many a new love will find me
Never have I once looked back to sigh
Over the romance behind me
Many a new day will dawn before I do

They lose. Everything. Unsurprisingly.

She loses her category. Roy loses in his. Ted isn't nominated. Even Sam, the one they'd all held out hope for, loses the category of best newcomer. It's a comfortable defeat but a disappointing one nonetheless. Afterwards they all sit around the table, looking glum and getting drunk. Keeley rests an arm on Roy's shoulder, strokes the hair at the base of his neck. Sam loosens his tie. Beard sits in silence while Nate winces into his drink. Finally, Ted pushes his chair back, makes his way around the table to where she's seated. She's surprised when he holds out a hand and tips his head at the dancefloor.

"C'mon, Boss, let's show these kids how it's done. You can tower over me in those stilts o' yours."

Her mouth drops open. "Well, actually, they were killing me so I…." She pushes back the linen tablecloth and fishes under the table with her feet but can't locate her silver stilettos.

Ted gives a little humph, "In that case—" then toes off his shoes. He picks up her hand and draws her to her feet. "Wouldn't wanna step on y' toes, 'specially not with that nice pedicure. Shall we?"

She glances back at the table as she is led away. Roy grunts. Keeley smiles. Beard nods. Nate looks befuddled. Sam turns in his seat to watch.

The dancefloor is littered with couples in various states of drunkenness, but before she and Ted can join them, he disappears on her. He mutters a quick be right back then weaves through the crowd to the bandleader. There's a piano on the stage, along with some drums, some brass instruments and a singer with finger-waved hair. They've been playing retro versions of recognisable pop and soft rock songs since the ceremony concluded. But Ted makes instantaneous friends with the bandleader and, when the next song begins, it's something a little more old-fashioned.

He trots down the stage steps, smoothing some fallen hair off his forehead. A few couples wander off the dancefloor to find drinks or make out or congratulate the winners. Rebecca clasps her hands in front of her, waiting on the spot as he makes his way back to her in his socks. The song sounds vaguely familiar. It's a slower, sultrier version but she's pretty sure the tune is from Oklahoma. She's not sure why he would request that musical, with its negative associations, but she's more than happy to help him overwrite some of those negative associations with a more positive one. She's just glad he didn't request "People Will Say We're In Love", which is the only other song from Oklahoma she can remember in this moment.

She glances about as he approaches, clocking every important face and figure. Legends and billionaires and broadcasters and influencers and journalists. Her dress touches the floor so hopefully no one can tell she's lost her heels. In stripy Richmond-coloured socks, Ted strides as effortlessly and confidently as any of the night's victors who peacock about the place with their crystal statuettes. He pays none of them any attention. He keeps his eyes on her, buttoning his jacket as he makes his way back to where she waits.

"Now," he stops in front of her and lifts both hands, "where were we?"

Rebecca lifts her hands and both of them sidle in close. His arm slides around her waist, hers around his shoulder. Ted cups her other hand in his, his grasp loose and warm. He anchors her against him and leads her in a relaxed back and forth sway, humming along to the music while she can't quite take her eyes off all the other high profile guests.

She frowns, gaze still on them rather than on her dance partner, "Are you intimidated by anyone, Ted?"

His shoulder shrugs under her arm. "People are just people. And I've been round athletes my whole life. Prodigies and champions and budding superstars. Human beings at the pinnacle of their abilities." He pauses, his mouth drifting a little closer to her ear as he launches into yet another of his folksy anecdotes. "You know, I coached a women's basketball team for a spell. They called me Coach Shorty for a good six months."

She emits a soft half-laugh. "They did not."

"Oh, they even had it printed on a jersey," he assures her in a low drawl, his socked feet shuffling against her naked toes. "Those girls were younger 'n me by about a decade but they already had trophies, sponsorship deals and scholarships out the wazoo. They were faster 'n' me, taller 'n' me and had guns on 'em even more impressive than yours there, Boss." He pulls back and squints at her. "What're you, five ten? Five eleven?"

"Five eleven in my stockinged feet," she sighs then adds dryly, "I hit a growth spurt at age fourteen and my love life has never fully recovered."

Ted is silent a moment. His hand has shifted from the small of her back to the curve of her waist. He stands a little apart from her now and, without her heels, they are almost level, eye to eye for perhaps the first time. The singer hits a high note, the music swelling and the band unashamedly milking the moment.

"Well," he goes on, voice as lilting and affable as ever, "like my mom always says: only small-minded men are intimidated by women of stature." He grins a little and adds, "Course she's as short as they come." His eyes widen and brows waggle. "Firecracker though. My dad used to call her his little pocket-rocket."

Rebecca laughs again. Feeling her head swirl with drink, she resists the insane urge to just swoop in and kiss his slightly flushed cheek. The song about about never lamenting past romances, about moving on to new ones is winding down. Nevertheless, over Ted's shoulder she sees Keeley and Roy join the couples on the dancefloor. Coach Beard has asked a stranger to dance as well. Ted sees her gaze shift and turns to see his leadership once again taking its subtle but intended effect. He turns back to her only to be approached by Sam, who tentatively taps his shoulder.

"Coach," Sam says, a halt in his voice, "I believe it's called cutting in."

Ted dips his head in impressed approval, releasing his grasp on her. "Well, good for you, son. She's all yours."

Sam faces her with a serious smile. "Only if that is alright with you, Miss Welton."

Her arms are still half aloft after Ted slipped out of them. Rebecca smiles and turns her palms upwards. "I'd be delighted, Sam."

Sam takes her hand in his and rests one palm high on her waist. He keeps a discreet distance, doesn't wrap his arm around her as Ted so comfortably did. He sways politely and compliments the music. Over his shoulder, Rebecca watches Ted clap Beard on the shoulder and meet his dance partner. Then he turns back, meets her gaze and gives a little wink.

-x-

Never have I chased the honeybee
Who carelessly cajoled me
Somebody just as sweet as he
Cheered me and consoled me.
Never have I wept into my tea
Over the deal someone doled me
Many a new day will dawn
Many a red sun will set
Many a blue moon will shine before I do!

Rebecca helps him down the alleyway.

"Hold onto me, Ted."

She tries ducking down and lifting his arm over her shoulder but he grunts and slurs:

"Careful there, Boss, I'll tear a rotator cuff…"

"Around my waist then."

She guides his limp arm around her waist, encourages him to hold on to her. Ted slings his other arm around her as well, his head lolling drunkenly against her shoulder. She looks down at him, his face lax and his hair drooping on his brow. Rebecca shifts in her heels on the cobblestones. She's not sure how she can help him walk while he's clinging to her like a lethargic, over-affectionate koala bear.

"One will probably do," she murmurs awkwardly.

Ted drops one arm, letting it swing back to his side. "Right you are, Boss..." Then they hobble slowly down the darkened alley towards her waiting car.

The Richmond crew left the awards ceremony together, heading to the nearest pub to get even drunker than they already were. While she, Keeley and Nate debriefed the night's best and worst fashion, Roy, Beard and Sam talked about any sport other than football. At some point, Ted got corralled into a drinking game with some malevolent Richmond supporters. He didn't know the rules but insisted on seeing the perverse bonding ritual through. He was still knocking back shots when Keeley and Roy left, looking rather smug, Rebecca thought, about going home to have some mind-blowing sex. Shortly afterwards, Nate offered to drive Sam home while Coach Beard took off to hook up with the woman he'd met earlier that evening. As he threw on his jacket, she assured him she'd see Ted safely home.

She opens the door for him, helps him drop down into the backseat. Her driver looks over his shoulder and offers to assist but she tells him in a laboured whisper that she's got it. She draws the seatbelt around Ted's body and clicks it into place as he burbles Richmond's chant under his breath. Then she heads around the other side to where her driver holds her door. Rebecca slides in beside Ted and gives the driver his address. The car glides away from the curb and the gentle forward motion makes Ted's head loll back on the leather seat.

"Oooo, my head's spinnin'…"

Rebecca reaches into a refrigerated compartment in the car's console. "Here," she says, handing him a small glass water bottle, "hydrate." Ted untwists the top and she darts out a hand. "Ah—it's sparkling, Ted. Mind the bubbles."

"That's cool, that's cool," he murmurs loosely, "I've been practising. Check it out." He takes a several large gulps then lets out an exaggerated, "Ahhhh…."

Her brows lift. "Impressive."

Ted examines the label and notes, "It's quite refreshing once y' get the hang of it," but the last of his sentence is obscured by a protracted belch.

Her brows fall, her head tilts. "Charming, Ted."

"Ted," he answers, clipped and crisp.

"Ted," she reiterates with a frown.

"Ted," he repeats with a blink.

"Ted," she replies more firmly.

"I like how you say my name," he drawls then imitates her accent and tone again. "Ted."

Rebecca gives a slight shake of her head, "I believe it sounds the same, whether said in your language or mine."

"Beg to differ," he mutters into his bottle, taking another sip.

After he does, this time without belching, he lets his head fall back on the seat again. Rebecca presses a button to lower the window a little on her side. The air is cool and quiet. Outside, the darkened London streets wiz past. Some pubs and clubs are still lit up, some people still wander about. But it's past midnight now, technically a new day even if the sun hasn't yet appeared. The car radio plays softly in the speakers behind their heads – Oasis again, hoping to be saved.

"Hey. Rebecca."

She turns away from the tinted window. His eyes are cracked and curious. The wind from outside ruffles his hair and, when he speaks, his tone is serious.

"Can I ask you somethin' that's been botherin' me a while?"

"O-kay," she murmurs hesitantly.

His brow creases. "What in heck is a wonderwall?"

Her head shakes. "No one knows, Ted."

He hums low in his throat, lips twisting in thought. "Must be somethin' good though, right?"

Rebecca sighs as she reaches down to slip off one shoe then the other. "I wouldn't read too deeply into the adolescent poetic stylings of the Gallagher brothers if I were you."

He watches through barely cracked eyelids as she points her toes then rotates her ankles, the bones and tendons clicking beneath her skin. She sighs again and lifts one foot into her lap to rub away some of the night's damage.

Ted lifts his head, gestures at her foot with his bottle. "You know, we've got an excellent team physio, Boss. You should avail yourself of her services."

She shoots him a quick glance. "Oh, no. No, I don't like massages or anything like that."

"Oh, come on now. Who doesn't like massages?" he wonders, casting his bewildered gaze into the mid-distance a moment. "They're one of the undeniable perks of workin' in sport."

"No," she murmurs, smoothing her fingers over her red toes. "I mean, I used to do spa days with the girls when I was younger. But now it seems…oddly intimate for a stranger."

"Gail's not a stranger," he answers breezily. "She's part of the team. Keeps all of us on our feet, yours truly included."

She casts him a look as she continues rubbing her right foot. "You're telling me you get regular massages?"

"Couldn't function without 'em." He bobs his heavy head then looks down at his slumped body. "I've twisted, yanked, strained or pulled every muscle in this 'ere body at some point or 'nother." He points at his knees with the butt of the bottle. "Done both ACLs." He takes a sip. "Fractured by neck once. Even sprained my tongue."

"How on earth do you sprain your tongue?"

"Rookie mistake," he muses after another long aahhh. "Got a little too enthusiastic with my whistle."

"Occupational hazard, I suppose."

"You're not wrong." He sips then gestures at the sub-par job she's doing on her own arches. "You wanna get in there with your knuckles, Boss. Really dig in—"

"Ah—" she lifts a hand, fending off his unwanted assistance.

Ted drops back in his seat. "So Rupert never…?" he follows up then stops.

She looks over at him. "…What?"

"You know…" he shrugs, tone slightly more hesitant than usual, "gave you a foot massage or a shoulder rub after a long day o' bossin' people about?"

Her face is deadpan. "You must be kidding."

Ted nods a few times, blinks lethargically then restarts, the verve back in his voice. "I did a sports massage course a few years back. Michelle was kinda like my guinea pig. Got a diploma and added a few moves to the ole bedroom routine, if you get what I'm sayin'."

Rebecca switches feet, lifting her left foot into her lap. "Bit of an overshare, Ted."

"Ted," he parrots.

He finishes his water and drops the empty bottle back in the console. Rebecca rubs her foot another moment then lowers it to warm car carpet. She leans back in her seat, throws her dress down over her knees, smooths the material over her thighs. Then she turns her head in his direction and lowers her voice to ask:

"How is everything…with your ex-wife, your son?"

"Well…" Ted runs a hand down his rumpled shirtfront, his slightly askew tie, "the smile is back on her face, which…I'm tryin' not to take too personally."

She gives a hum of sympathy, of recognition.

"Speak to Henry everyday but, you know," he glances across at her, sadness creasing his already tired and intoxicated eyes, "miss huggin' him. Especially bedtime hugs when he's all warm and floppy and smells like bubble bath."

She shifts to face him in her seat, faltering a little on her words. "You know if you ever need time off for a visit, we could find an opening in the season. Beard and Nate could take over. Temporarily, of course. It wouldn't be the same but we could make it work."

Ted's gaze glints with affection. "Appreciate you sayin' that, Boss. I do..." He clears his throat, glances at the window then turns back to her. "You, ah…you never wanted kids yourself?"

Rebecca feels her back stiffen, her gaze drop.

Ted leans closer. "Aw shoot, did I put my foot in it?"

"No, I…" She lifts her chin but doesn't look at him, lets her eyes drift as she admits, "Rupert didn't want children…while we were together. But I always…I rather fancied the idea of being a mum."

He nods sadly then spreads his hands. "Well, you know…y' got a gaggle of muddy, sweaty, neurotic footballers to watch over if that's any consolation." His head tips towards her in a gesture of mutual understanding. "And I mean, families come in all shapes, don't they? I was adopted myself."

She meets his eyes. "Were you?"

"Me an' my two sisters. All from different places and people. But we hit the jackpot." He grins toothily, dimples winking deep in his cheeks. "Best parents ever. Broke all our hearts when my dad passed." His smile fades when she doesn't immediately respond.

Her eyes feel full but her words stick in her throat.

"What…is that another overshare?" he mutters, eyes anxiously scanning her face.

Rebecca shakes her head. "No. No…" She blinks some moisture from her eyes, untangles herself from the confines of her seatbelt then leans across the empty space between them. She grasps his lapel with one hand, tilts her head sideways and presses her lips to his cheek. When she pulls back, Ted is looking at her with a pleased but puzzled gimmer in his eye. He shakes his head a little, opens his mouth but doesn't speak.

"I just," she says in answer to his silent question. Her palm is lying flat on his chest when she manages to explain, "I think you're lovely. That's all."

Ted chuffs in pleasure and finds his tongue. "Been called a lot of things since I arrived in this country of yours, but 'lovely'? Now, that's a first."

"Well…" Rebecca drops her hand and pulls back, shifting her gaze out the window behind him, "you're also home."

Ted turns to glance out the window at his neighbourhood. "Right. 'Course..." He stays where he is a moment, looks at her with his mouth slightly ajar then reaches for the seatbelt buckle. He struggles free then takes another moment to work out how to open the door of her car.

"Would you like a hand?" she asks as he steps out onto the pavement and nearly trips on the gutter.

"No, no…" Ted mutters, turning in a circle, orientating himself in the night air and patting his pockets in search of his keys.

Rebecca slips her shoes back on, opens her door with the touch of a button. Her feet protest being back in their murderous little slings and she swears to herself as she rounds the boot of the car. When she reaches him on the pavement, Ted has located his keys but dropped them. She scoops them up then wraps herself around him again. His arm goes to her waist, grasping her through the material of her dress. The pavement is slick with recently fallen rain so he has to hold her up as much as the other way around.

"Richmond til we die," he drones as she escorts him down the echoey deserted alleyway to his door. "We're Richmond til we diiiieee…we know we are—" He leaves a pause, waiting for her to join in.

"We're sure we are," she answers in song, joining him for, "We're Richmond til we die…"

They half-whisper, half-sing the chant all the way to his door, despite the light in his upstairs neighbour's window turning indignantly on. Another verse and she suspects they would have been yelled at, no matter how keen the residents of Richmond might be on their home team. At the door, she props Ted against the entrance as she fits his key in the lock.

Mist puffs from his mouth as he gazes up at the night sky. "You got a nice set of pipes on y', that's for sure…"

Rebecca swings the door open then places the keys in his hand. The interior flight of steps is too narrow for two so she just tilts her head at it and whispers, "I'll make sure you get to the landing."

Ted stands upright, gives a little salute. "Til we die, Boss."

Rebecca smiles and nods once. "Til we die, Ted." Then she puts a hand on his shoulder, turns him inwards and nudges him over the threshold.

"Ted..." he parrots as he goes.

He slops up the stairs, feet heavy and head swaying on his neck. When he reaches the landing, he turns to look back at her, lifts his keys in a gesture that says he'll be fine from here. She's about to head back to her car when he speaks again.

"Rebecca. Hey. Hey. Rebecca—!" Ted pauses, waits until her eyes meet his again. His voice is loud enough that she can hear him but low enough not to disturb the neighbours. "I think you're lovely too."

She smiles and reaches for the open door. "Goodnight, Ted."

He gives a tipsy little wave as she closes the front door. "Sleep tight, Boss. Don't let the bedbugs bite…"

Rebecca tiptoes back down the alley. Her driver holds the door open and she kicks off her shoes as soon as she's seated again. Upstairs, lights come on in Ted's flat. She glances up at them then at the console clock as her car pulls away from the curb. Not long now before a new day dawns.

END.