TWs: Mentions of things that have happened in past chapters/on the show (bullying, verbal abuse, character deaths).

Also, mention of a story from S1E4. You'll know it when you read it.

"Would you like a refill?" Trent asked, needing an excuse to get away from the table for a moment. "My treat this time, please."

Ted looked down into his nearly empty coffee mug. "You know what? That would be great, thanks."

"Great," Trent repeated as he stood up and gave Ted a small smile.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he walked toward the counter to place their order. The woman who helped them before was drying her hands.

"Hello again," she said with a wide smile. "What can I get you?"

"Hi, yes, may I have another latte, please, and a… you know what? May I have two lattes please? Thank you," Trent said as he pulled out his wallet. He looked back toward the table and watched Ted, chin in his hand, staring out the window.

When he turned back around to hand the woman cash, she was busy pouring foam into the second mug. She had made a heart in the foam of the first mug and was doing the same for the second one. Ah. She must do that for everyone, he thought. It was a friendly touch and added to the overall cutesy aspect of the shop. He was glad to know the shop was within walking distance from his flat, as maybe Alice would like to come here sometime.

After thanking her again, Trent carefully carried the drinks back to the table and set one of the mugs in front of Ted.

Ted glanced at Trent with a delighted but still semi-flustered look on his face.

"You should have ordered one earlier," Trent said softly. "I won't judge you for foam in your mustache."

"So you'll just judge me for the mustache in general?" Ted asked.

Trent shook his head as he took a sip from his own drink. "The first press conference you were at I did. I judged you for a lot of things that day, of which I am sorry for," Trent said. "Not many people can pull that kind of mustache off, but you do with aplomb."

Ted shifted around in his seat, seemingly unable to take the compliment. He took a sip of his latte and foam clung to the ends of his mustache like snow on the edge of a roof. Trent smiled and handed him a napkin.

"Do you remember when you took me to that Indian restaurant?" Trent asked.

An easy laugh slipped from Ted's lips as he wiped the foam from his face. "You meant the one you ditched me at because of your deadline?"

"The very same," Trent said. "I think about that night a lot." When Ted's eyebrows darted up just a bit, Trent was quick to add, "Meaning, I think a lot about what you said that night because that was the first time I realized we might have something in common."

"An intolerance of spicy food?" Ted asked as he reached for the muffin and began peeling off the wrapper.

Trent broke off another piece of the brownie as he shook his head. "Besides that," Trent said. "Though I still can't believe you continued to eat that…. actually, I can. And it makes me wonder how much more torture you would put yourself through if it meant someone else would succeed."

Ted shrugged as he put the muffin wrapper to the side and completely tore off the bottom half of the muffin with his hand. "What can I say? It makes me happy seein' other people happy."

"Even when it hurts you in the process?" Trent asked. He knew it was a loaded question and watched as Ted wiggled his nose, almost Bewitched-style, his entire mustache moving.

"Yeah, I guess so," Ted said as he set the bottom half of the muffin down and tore the top half in half. He offered the slightly bigger piece to Trent. "Muffin?"

"Thank you," Trent said as he accepted the half from Ted, careful not to let their fingers touch. "That night, though, you said you said it wasn't always easy growing up without someone believing in you. I took that to mean that was your experience?" It wasn't really a question, but Trent still asked it like one, just in case. When Ted nodded his head is small jerky motions, Trent knew he was right."It was my experience too."

Ted frowned. "Is this that messy story you were referrin' to?"

Trent nodded slowly. "The abridged version is my father was—and still is, actually—not a fan of me being myself." Trent saw Ted flinch ever so slightly when he mentioned his father. "But I'm all right leaving it at that."

"No, it's fine," Ted said quickly, shaking his head. "What I said growin' up without someone believin' in me, I meant my dad too. But my dad's… well, he passed when I was 16. So me tryin' to be there for the guys on my team is largely because I didn't have my dad there for me. Though it sounds like your dad isn't really there for you either, even though he's still in your life," Ted said. "Don't feel like you have to censor yourself or think you can't speak your mind about your dad because mine's not around anymore. If you wanna share, please do. But I'll still respect ya whether you want to want to or not."

Trent nodded, unsure if he should say anything with this new piece of information about Ted's past.

"Lemme ask you somethin', though," Ted continued. "Why would anyone think you shouldn't be yourself? Set aside the whole dad of it all…"

Trent gave Ted a look that silently screamed Are you kidding me? "Being an openly gay man who wanted to write about professional sports in the late 90s/early 2000s did not put me on anyone's must-hire lists," Trent said. "In fact, I didn't come out at work for several years."

"Oh, yeah. That Giles Trowley article," Ted said as he nodded enthusiastically. "That was such a great interview. Can't believe you didn't get an SJA for that. The parallel of your journeys was fascinatin'. He's a manager for one of the women's teams now, right?"

"He is, yes… Wait, you read that?" Trent asked, shocked.

"Of course I did," Ted replied as he took a bite of his half of the muffin top. "What? You weren't the only one doin' homework last season. After you roasted me at that first press conference, you better believe I read as many as your articles as I could find to make sure I was at least bein' called out by someone who knew their stuff." Ted's eyebrows furrowed a bit. "Well, their stuff about soccer, anyhow. I will stand by my opinion that you severely underestimated my coachin' abilities. A lot of that is transferable from one football to the other."

"Hang on… you had already read my work before our day together for that profile?"

"Yes sir," Ted said.

"So when you said I was good at writing, you actually meant it," Trent said.

"A hundred percent, Clark Kent," Ted said with a smile. "You are very good at what you do and it's because you pour all of yourself into it."

"Thank you," Trent said.

"I'm not just sayin' that to compliment ya, Trent. I'm statin' facts," Ted pointed out, but with a smile.

That flustered Trent a bit, but he tried to hold his composure. "Well, I could say the same about you," Trent said with a small nod. "I don't know if it's because you're American or because you're you… but your coaching style is unlike any I've seen before in all my years covering football. Certainly at the Premier League level."

"Now do y'all know what backhanded compliments are here, or is that as foreign to you as I am?"

Trent's eyebrows shot up, "No, please, I meant it as a regular compliment."

"So, a forward compliment?" Ted asked.

"I don't think that's a thing, Ted, even where you come from," Trent replied.

"I dunno," Ted said. "I have been known to be a bit forward with my complimentin' should a situation call for it.

Trent felt his face get warm. "Conversation with you is akin to a tennis match," Trent said. "One much constantly be on their toes for a quick return."

"Aw, heck," Ted said as he brushed Trent's comment aside. "Not everyone's as fun to converse with as you. In fact, talkin' with you is easy. Like ridin' a bike." Ted heard what he said and his head turned to the side as it seemed like he was figuring something out. "Hold up, though… you don't know how to ride a bike. How is that even possible?"

Trent frowned. "That's another one of those messy stories…"

Ted must have sensed that something was really wrong with Trent because he immediately apologized. "Hey, no, it's okay. And it's not my business. I'm sorry I asked. The truth is, I had only mentioned the whole bike accident thing earlier because Doc was in one a couple months ago and that was still fresh on my mind for why someone would be missin'," Ted explained. "And I wasn't surprised about you not knowin' how to ride a bike because of your vibe or whatever… I just agreed because it felt like I should in the moment. Really, I was just surprised because you're a dad with a young kid who's nearin' bike ridin' age, is all."

"I had every intention of learning. I even tried once, when I was 10. My parents had gotten me a bike for Christmas that year," Trent said.

"And you decided it wasn't for you?" Ted supplied.

"More like it was decided for me," Trent replied with a sigh. "I had walked the bike to an abandoned car park and was giving it a go. Some boys from school came through, and, well…" Trent expected Ted to prompt him, but he didn't. Ted was just staring at Trent with a look in his eyes that seemed like he was trying to think of every possible scenario so he wouldn't react wrong if/when Trent finished his sentence. "I wasn't even on the bike anymore, but they knocked it and me to the ground. They called me names. Grabbed my hair. Kicked me." Trent touched the frame of his glasses. "One of them landed on me in such a way that they broke my leg. They all ran away after that. My sister and her friend found me a bit later and I ended up in hospital."

"Shit, Trent," Ted said softly. "And they were 10 too?"

"Thereabouts, yes," Trent said. "I wasn't too keen to try again after that."

"I don't blame ya," Ted said. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"That was the beginning of it, actually… after that was when my dad first started saying I needed to stop making myself a target," Trent said. "And I did for a while." He sighed. "It was when I veered back toward being myself again that my dad would take umbrage with it." He let out a sad chuckle. "I mean, even as recent as this morning when I dropped Alice off. He called me a dosser. Said 'I doubt anyone's in the market for a sloppy middle-aged man who writes about footie'."

Ted leaned forward a bit. "I'm sorry, but what's a dosser?"

"A homeless person," Trent said before taking a sip of his latte. When Ted looked utterly confused, Trent continued. "To be fair, I was wearing a different outfit this morning and I had slept in half of it last night. But he wouldn't approve of what I'm wearing now either, so it honestly doesn't make a difference."

"Are you kiddin' me?" Ted asked. "You're always the sharpest lookin' fella in the room. Most certainly this room," Ted said. "I am always one red shirt away from lookin' like I work at Target."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing we don't have those here," Trent said.

"You ever been to Target?" Ted asked. Trent shook his head. "Oh, man, you are missin' out. It is easily one of the best places to just walk around. The store basically tells you what you need. There was a study done—you literally cannot walk outta there havin' only bought one thing."

"That's ridiculous," Trent said.

"No sir, that's science," Ted replied. "So you were one and done with trying to ride a bike after what happened to you when you were 10?"

"No… but also yes," Trent said, confusing both Ted and himself. "There was a time in university when some friends and I were supposed to go to brunch, but it was decided we'd ride bikes to the riverfront and have a picnic."

"So what'd you do?" Ted asked.

"I left," Trent said. "I went back to my flat. Thomas followed me. Thomas was in my sports journalism class," he explained.

Ted grinned. "Did you fancy him?"

"I did," Trent said. "Married him, actually."

"Oh, so y'all were college sweethearts?" Ted asked. "Michelle and I got married right outta school too."

"Oh, no, we didn't get married until about a month before Alice was born. We weren't even together that whole time. He was in America toward the end of 2001 and only moved back here at the end of 2015," Trent said, trying to do the math in his head.

"And y'all just picked right back up where you started?"

"That's another messy story," Trent said softly. "But we did get back together. He talked me into having a kid. He talked me into marrying him," Trent sighed. "And then he died the day Alice was born."

Ted's eyes had gotten wider and wider with every sentence out of Trent's mouth. "What? No. Trent! That's…" He shook his head in disbelief.

Trent's eyebrows slid up as he nodded and frowned. "So… off and on between university and literally weeks before he died, Thomas promised me he'd teach me how to ride a bike. He even bought us bikes as something to do, just the two of us, after Alice was born. They've never been used."

"You know… bikes aren't all they're hyped up to be. I mean, Doc rides her weird bike everywhere and still got into a wreck. Heck, as an adult, I fell off a one and chipped a tooth," Ted said with a serious face. "Bruised my perineum. I didn't think doctors were supposed to laugh at patients like that, but there's a first time for everything, I guess."

Trent couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh and Ted allowed himself to smile.

"Man, good thing this is all off the record," Ted continued. "What would that headline even be? Lasso Bruised Asshole During Bike Fiasco?" Trent just smiled and shook his head. "I like makin' you smile, sir."

"Even at your own expense?" Trent asked.

"Especially then," Ted said. "I'll tell you all sorts of embarrassin' things about me if it'll cheer you up. I don't like seein' ya sad, Trent. But I'm grateful for all you've shared with me today. You got more layers than one of those fancy cakes made out of crepes."

Just then, Ted's phone chirped and Trent was suddenly aware that he was monopolizing Ted's afternoon after the biggest win in his Richmond career.

"Please answer that," Trent said as he sat up and began piling the used napkins on their tray where there was still part of a muffin and a small section of brownie.

Ted waved him off. "It's just a reminder that I need to FaceTime with Henry in a bit." He saw Trent cleaning up. "Do you have to go?"

"I mean… I should probably do something about getting my car unlocked sooner rather than later?" He didn't sound like it was exactly what he wanted to be doing right then, but it was a legitimate enough excuse to let Ted go.

"Well, all right," Ted said as he put his folded napkins on the tray and then took a big sip of his latte. He wiped his mustache with a clean napkin and added that to the tray pile too. "This was real fun, Trent. We should do this again sometime."

"What, like a date?" The question was out of Trent's mouth before he realized what he said. It was when Ted's eyebrows slid up in surprise that Trent's brain caught up to his question. "Oh, shit… I mean, that's not what I meant…"