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The sky opens up in the middle of practice.
Training.
All this time and Ted still can’t seem to get used to that one. Anyways - point is the team seems to be used to it, but Ted sure isn’t. He always thought it seemed cruel to make the boys back in Kansas practice too hard in the rain, but probably just because it happens so much here, everybody just seems to keep on going like nothing’s changed. Ted doesn’t mind because they don’t seem to mind - but he doesn’t always love heading out for the day soaked to the bone and a little bit chilly.
He can change clothes, of course, before he leaves for the flat, but he can’t help his hair flopping over his forehead, and the fact that he still just feels - damp. Well - maybe he could, if he really took a shower and dried off and put on his change of clothes, but he’ll be walking home in the rain anyways, so it seems a little silly to get all dried out just to go get wet again.
Sometimes when it’s really raining, Roy or somebody else offers him a ride home, but this particular day most everybody else has somewhere to be, and Ted waves them all off, just trying to get his hair to at least stay out of his face while he walks home. It’s not pouring rain anymore, so he’s good to walk home in the drizzle, just enjoying the fine English weather - but that particular phrase makes him snort a little at his own thoughts.
Once mostly everyone is gone, Ted gives up on his hair and watches in the mirror as it falls back across his forehead. Then he just shoulders his backpack and heads out.
He steps out into the parking lot, takes a deep breath of that familiar rainy smell - and almost runs face-first into Trent Crimm.
Ted blinks at him for a moment, then smiles, big and broad and genuine. It’s a pleasant surprise, as it always is, to run into Trent, even though it’s been a while since the last time they saw each other. “Trent Crimm, still newly independent. How can I help you?”
Trent blinks back at him, looking - distracted somehow. Before Ted can ask any concerned questions, though, Trent shakes his head and seems to come back to himself. “Ted. Hello - I was actually waiting on you.”
“Well what a happy coincidence. To what do I owe the very fine pleasure?”
One corner of Trent’s mouth quirks up. It’s funny - it looks like he got caught in the rain, too, standing out here. While Ted would have assumed before this moment that Trent had to do something to get his hair to behave, or that getting it drenched would make him look at least a little bit silly - instead, Trent’s got his wet hair pushed back from his forehead, just a few pieces falling into his face, and it all looks as artful as ever. He looks like something off a magazine cover, and Ted’s the one left feeling ridiculous with his shirt still sticking to his skin and his hair all flopped over his forehead.
“Well I was wondering-” Trent begins - only that, of course, is when the sky all but cracks open, and rain starts absolutely pouring down.
Ted’s soaked in moments, water dripping down the back of his neck, and he shivers even while he’s still processing the shock.
“Shit,” Trent says out loud, ducking his head and glaring up at the clouds. “Can I give you a lift?” he calls out over the sounds of the rain hitting the pavement.
“Well if you’re sure you’re not-“
“Ted, for fuck’s sake, just get in the car.”
Laughing a little, Ted shakes his wet hair out of his face. “If you’re twisting my arm, then, lead the way.”
They run together over to Trent’s fancy little car, and Ted barely manages to remember to hop in the passenger side, landing in the seat and immediately feeling bad for how much he’s still dripping.
“You sure I’m not messing up any fancy upholstery? Suppose if I am I can probably afford to help you replace it now, but-“
“It’s quite alright,” Trent says, cutting him off. He pushes his hair back out of his face again - and Ted thinks inexplicably of that famous shot of Rita Hayworth in Gilda, tossing her hair back, the one the fellas all go crazy for in The Shawshank Redemption.
He almost says as much to Trent - but bites his lip to keep his mouth shut instead, and feels his face heat up just a little from the direction of his thoughts.
There’s water dripping down Trent’s neck, too, that Ted’s trying not to follow with his eyes - but he can’t help but notice the way it settles right by the hollow of Trent’s throat, right in that space his button-downs and ties used to draw attention to, too.
This isn’t, strictly speaking, the first time Ted’s had a thought like that - but used to, he mostly wrote it off to the long time he’s spent on his own, and Trent being the most attractive man in the press room. Now that they’re stuck in a car together, and Trent still hasn’t said why he was waiting outside for Ted in the first place - it feels a little more intimate.
Plus, Ted’s lost the boundary he used to be able to lean on when he spent time alone with Trent, which was that getting too involved would mess up both of their jobs in one big clumsy swoop.
“Ted - are you alright?”
Shaking his hair out of the way again, Ted laughs and makes himself put on a smile. “Course I am, sorry about that. Just - drowning in my thoughts I guess.” He smiles a little wider.
Trent sighs - but the corners of his eyes crinkle up just a little. “You really can’t be stopped, can you?”
“Nope, sure can’t. I get that a lot.”
“Are you - I don’t have a towel or anything in the car. Can I drop you home to let you dry off?”
“I don’t wanna inconvenience you-”
“Ted-”
“But - I will say, since I’m already in here ruining your seats, if you would drive me back to my place, guess the least I could do is invite you in for a warm drink. And then, you could ask me what you were actually waiting out here to ask me.”
Trent tilts his head, but nods after a quiet moment and then turns the car on. “If you don’t mind.”
“I absolutely insist.”
They roll out of the parking lot, and Ted points Trent in the right direction of his flat - though as Trent observes, it’s close enough to the Crown and Anchor that Trent doesn’t need the directions until they get very close.
It’s not a particularly long walk from Nelson Road, so it’s an even shorter drive. There’s not even really enough time for much of an awkward silence to develop. Instead, the car is filled with quiet music in the background, the sounds of the rain outside, and Ted mostly just stares out the window, enjoying the new perspective on his everyday trip home.
“I’m sort of - around the corner and up the stairs, once we’re parked. Sorry about that.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to make a break for it,” Trent tells him with a little half-smile, and once the car’s off, they both nod at each other and hop out of the car at the same time, Ted grabbing at the sleeve of Trent’s jacket to make sure he heads the right way to make it to the door.
They come to a stop just under the shelter of the overhang, and Ted finds himself with Trent close enough behind him he’s nearly pressed up against his back. He can feel breath on his neck, and it makes his hair stand up on end. Trent sort of - nudges him just by pressing a hand against the small of his back, and Ted shivers, trying to cover it up by pushing the door open to let them both into the building.
“Uh - here we are. Just - right up this way.”
They manage to keep some distance again, all the way up to Ted’s flat - but honestly, Ted finds himself missing the warmth of Trent’s body and all the little intimate spaces they’ve been crammed into. He wants an excuse to get close again, and see what happens, but he knows the others were based on circumstance, and now they’ve got plenty of room he hasn’t got a lot of excuses.
Once they’re inside, Trent pauses to look around, and Ted is pleased to notice he hasn’t left the place such a mess that it’s embarrassing to have him up here.
“The bathroom’s just - back over there, if you wanna step in there. I could grab you some clothes if you need anything, or you can use a towel in there. I got some extras, too, though-”
“No, I won’t - I mean I doubt I’ll be staying long enough I’ll need to change clothes, but thank you, Ted. I’ll take you up on the towel, though.”
“Well you go on ahead. I’ll get changed and meet you back in the kitchen for drinks.”
Trent nods at him just once - then he lingers, just for a moment, taking another look at Ted before he ducks away towards the bathroom, and Ted hears the door shut softly behind him.
Trying not to think too hard about it, Ted goes into his bedroom and changes into a dry t-shirt and a pair of track pants. It’s not quite pajamas, but it’s more casual than anything he’d normally wear out of the house. He debates on putting on something nicer - but he’s still damp, and he wants to be comfortable. It’s not like his usual wardrobe is that impressive anyways, especially compared to Trent’s.
He knows drying off his hair with a towel would only make things worse, so he tries, again, to sort of comb it back into place with his fingers - and this time, some of it stays, so there’s just a stubborn piece or two hanging across his forehead. It’s better than it was.
When he steps back out of his room, he finds Trent already waiting in the kitchen, drier and his hair just a little bit frizzier. He’s tied it back, though, put most of it up in a messy little bun. He’s got his glasses on and his jacket off, arms crossed as he looks at the couple of postcards and silly little things Ted’s put up on the fridge.
“Anything interesting?” he asks, just to make Trent turn around and face him.
Trent startles a little, but he just huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Sorry, no. I mean - maybe of personal interest. I’ve never been to your part of America. Just - New York, or LA a couple of times, for work or travel.”
“I know you’re not a journalist anymore, just wasn’t sure if old habits died hard or if you just quit cold turkey.”
Though he raises an eyebrow, Trent turns back to the fridge and shrugs. “I’ve always been - interested in people. You’re an interesting person, Ted Lasso. I can hardly help that - everyone in the whole of Richmond seems to agree with me.”
“That what got you into journalism? Interest in people?”
With a thoughtful hum, Trent finally turns away from the fridge and leans on the counter to face Ted. “More or less. It may shock you to learn this, but even before I was a journalist I wasn’t exactly popular. I seem to have the opposite effect that you have - I practically piss people off on sight. Becoming a journalist was a way to - disarm people in a certain way. They hated me for a reason, and I still got to ask them questions they had a reason to answer.”
It’s such an honest answer that Ted’s a little shocked. He’s not sure why - Trent’s been more open with him recently, and the last time he’d been waiting outside the club, he’d offered up a couple different facts about his personal life like it was part of the apology.
Apparently it’s a new thing he’s trying, with Ted - and what an honor that is. Still, Ted just finds himself wanting to know more. He’s always eager to find things out about new people, loves getting to know all his coworkers and everyone on the team, happy to make new friends - but he really wants to know what makes Trent tick, and honestly has ever since that first glimpse in the press room.
“I do find it hard to believe anybody could hate you on sight, Trent Crimm,” Ted jokes. He’s leaning over the counter, too, chin resting in his hand, and he realizes he may be - flirting, just a little, on accident.
Trent smiles, though, and stays leaned in, too, blinking slowly at Ted so - it seems like he’s not complaining. “I suppose they do usually wait until I open my mouth.”
Ted scoffs out a laugh, and stands up just to go around and start hunting up what he has in the way of drinks. “I guess considering the first thing you said to me, I can’t really disagree with that. But those people really missed out - you’re worth putting in the time for.”
“I don’t know that I always was - but thank you, either way.”
“Well that’s no fair to Young Trent Crimm, Mr. Slightly Older Trent Crimm,” Ted chides him, waving a package of hot cocoa at him as he turns around. “I bet he was a real treat! Now I know well enough everybody’s got their fair share of growing up to do - I came a long way from college til now. Learned a lot even just since I got to London, actually, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t still in there and just growing. One of the best things about knowing anybody for long enough is watching that happen.”
That seems to knock Trent speechless again. He opens his mouth, shakes his head, then ducks his head and shakes it again as he taps his finger against the counter. “I can’t speak with a lot of experience on that account. I’ve got a couple of old friends, and obviously I’ve got Lucy, but - people at The Independent tended to come and go.”
“I get that,” Ted says softly. “If it helps, it’s definitely twice as true for your kid. No matter how ornery they get or how many toys they break - as far as I can tell there’s no ceiling on how much they can impress you, how proud you can be, or how much you can love ‘em.”
“I came home and found her reading the other day,” Trent tells him, looking back up with a small smile. “Just - had one of her favorite books in her lap, struggling her way through it. My dad said he thought he’d left her asleep, but there she was, awake and reading all on her own.”
“She’s four now, isn’t she?” Ted confirms, mirroring Trent’s small smile.
“Yes, she is. Too bright for her own good, probably.”
Ted shrugs a shoulder. “Doesn’t surprise me, her being your daughter. She must get it straight from you.”
Trent looks away again - and this time, Ted can tell he’s a little flushed, because there’s a bit of pink showing at the tips of his ears. He’s never noticed that before - but usually Trent’s hair probably helps him hide it, too.
“Uh - you still want something to drink? Technically speaking I have tea up in the cabinet, on account of someone leaving it around, but I’m pretty sure I do an absolutely awful job of making it.” Ted shakes the cocoa in his hand, but points his thumb back towards the cabinets, too, gesturing at the options.
“You can stick with hot cocoa. I wouldn’t mind a cup,” Trent answers, looking back up and over the rim of his glasses.
Ted stops for a moment, just looking at him again - and he notices there’s still a stray drop of rainwater or - a hint of it, lingering on Trent’s forehead, probably from where he missed a spot drying his hair.
Caught up in the moment, just on instinct, he reaches out with his free hand and gently wipes the droplet away with his thumb, lingering just for a moment before his brain comes back online and he yanks his hand away, nearly catching Trent’s glasses in the process.
“Uh - sorry, just you had - little bit of rain, still, there.”
Trent’s staring at him openly now, standing up a little more. He’s looking over his glasses completely, because they’ve slipped down his nose, but he’s not making any kind of move to push them back up.
Feeling wrong-footed, Ted reaches up and pushes his own hair back off his forehead, rocking back on his heels as he does it. “So uh - how about that drink?”
“It’s still,” Trent starts, but instead of finishing his sentence, he comes around the counter and steps close to Ted - close enough that Ted almost wants to step back, but he stands his ground instead, and just watches as Trent’s fingers come up and gently comb his hair back into place.
He blinks, and feels it as Trent lingers, his thumb resting gently at Ted’s temple from where he stopped the motion of his hand.
There’s less than a foot of space between them. It’s obvious, this close, that Trent’s just a little bit shorter than him. He’s looking up at Ted’s face, his mouth pushed over to one side, eyes dark beneath his lashes. It’s a nice angle, up this close - but then again Ted’s yet to really find that Trent has a bad angle, and he’s seen quite a few now over their handful of hangouts.
Now, here they are standing in Ted’s kitchen, with Trent’s hand on his face, and Trent’s not a journalist anymore. And Trent’s looking, and Ted’s looking back, just the two of them, still damp from the rain - and Ted thinks, for just a moment, that if he’s wrong now they’re getting to the point where it just might kill him, just a little bit.
“Ted,” Trent says quietly - and it’s like the beginning of something, but Trent stops there.
“Trent,” Ted answers - and slowly, gently, he places his free hand on Trent’s hip for balance, then reaches up and tugs at Trent’s glasses. When Trent doesn’t stop him, Ted carefully takes them off his face and places them on the counter with the cocoa powder.
And then - they’re finally face to face with nothing in the way.
Ted’s heart starts pounding in his chest, and Trent’s fingers tracing gently from his temple down to his cheek don’t do anything to help it.
“There you are,” Ted says anyways, because he feels like he needs to say something, just to fill the tiny little space between them with words.
Trent smiles, and leans up, placing his hand at the back of Ted’s neck. “Here I am,” he answers - and then he’s pressing his lips against Ted’s in a soft, lingering kiss.
Trent kisses him thoroughly, but it’s gentler than Ted would have expected, if somebody forced him to admit all the times he’s thought about it. He always assumed Trent would kiss with passion, and focus - and it’s not that he doesn’t - but in this soft, quiet little moment they’ve built for themselves, Trent’s kiss matches it perfectly.
He moves his lips slowly against Ted’s, then pulls back just enough to press separate lingering kisses to Ted’s top lip, and his bottom lip. Once Ted’s just standing there with his mouth parted, his eyes closed, waiting for another kiss, Trent presses back in and licks his way into Ted’s mouth, holding onto his shoulder and the back of his neck to keep a good angle.
Ted can feel the way Trent’s nose is pressed against his cheek, the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks, mid-kiss - and Ted’s toes curl against the kitchen floor, warm and content and kiss-drunk as he is, totally consumed by the affection bubbling up in his veins.
“You really - know what you’re doing,” Ted mumbles in between kisses, sliding a hand up into Trent’s hair just to keep him from pulling back to respond. He takes his chance to kiss back properly, to give as good as he’s been getting, and he ducks his head to press one firm kiss to Trent’s lips before he kisses the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then his jaw.
Trent shivers in his arms. “I should hope so, after all the failed first dates I’ve been going on for the past couple of years.”
Ted chuckles at that, trailing his mouth and nose against Trent’s skin before he finds his lips for another kiss. “Now I wonder why you’d say it like that?”
Falling into their next kiss, Trent presses his tongue against Ted’s lower lip, then scrapes his teeth against it before he pulls back. “It’s almost like something happened to distract me and make me even worse at dating. I can’t imagine what that would have been.”
Overwhelmed by the implication of Trent’s words, Ted wraps both hands around his hips and pulls him even closer, pressing their bodies together before he puts an arm around Trent’s shoulders and kisses him again, and again.
“You’re not so bad at this yourself, Coach Ted Lasso from America,” Trent tells him - and his voice is a little rough now, a low rumble that shivers right through Ted.
“Now that I’ve got no explanation for,” Ted answers - although he knows it may come out just a little bit smug.
“You are so-” Trent starts - but he finishes it with a kiss, this time pressing his open mouth to Ted’s jaw, pressing his teeth to the skin for just a moment.
“Never heard that one before,” Ted replies - but his voice goes all breathless, caught up in the feeling of Trent’s mouth, and his teeth on his skin.
Trent laughs, and works his way down Ted’s neck. “Really? Because I can’t imagine I’m the only person that feels that way.”
“Well - I’ve uh, had my moments, but no one’s used that particular adjective before-” he tries to joke, but he cuts off as Trent noses down towards the collar of his t-shirt and pulls it aside and just - licks over his skin. The slick warmth is obvious, and Ted grabs at Trent’s shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there, trying to hold on as he goes a little weak in the knees, imagining all the other places Trent’s mouth might go in the near future, if he is very, very lucky.
“I wanted - to do that in the car,” Trent murmurs, kissing all along Ted’s collarbone, and the dip of his throat.
“Funny, I had the same thought about you,” Ted admits, looking up at the ceiling, pushing his fingers back into Trent’s hair now hard enough that it messes up his bun - about half of his hair comes loose, falling down into his face.
“Really?” Trent asks, pausing his motions to lift his head and look up at Ted.
Ted blinks back at him, and feels as a smile creeps up on his face. “There’s this spot, right here,” he confides, reaching up to trace the hollow of Trent’s throat with his fingers before he dips his head down and kisses it, pressing his tongue there, just like he’d thought about, to demonstrate. Trent’s skin is salty, and still tastes a little like the rain, and Ted can’t get enough of it. Instead of finishing his sentence, he kisses Trent there again - until Trent tugs at his hair, hard enough to pull him back up.
“You-” Trent says, but trails off again.
Licking his lips, Ted smiles, and shrugs, and tries to blink the kiss-dazed look from his face. He uses his thumb to trace over Trent’s skin again, the same spot where he’d just pressed his mouth. “Used to notice that spot just - from all the ties when we first met. I wasn’t all the way divorced back then, just - lonely. But then last season, with all those t-shirts, you were a lot more unbuttoned, it was a whole heck of a lot easier to keep looking.”
Trent makes a quiet, frustrated sound that you could almost call a growl, and pushes his mouth back against Ted’s. Regardless of what he calls the sound, Ted just knows it sinks right into the pit of his stomach, and he’d like to hear it again, maybe even every day if he can.
Still caught up in the desperate press of Trent’s mouth, Ted makes a surprised little hum as the hand on his hip nudges him around so he’s got his back to the counter, and then Trent presses him back up against it.
He’s absolutely, positively not complaining, though. He finishes pulling the elastic out of Trent’s hair, keeping it on his wrist as he pushes both of his hands into Trent’s hair and uses it to hold him closer.
One of Trent’s legs nudges in between his, and Ted resists the urge to press forward against it when he feels just a little hint of pressure and realizes he’s already half-hard in his track pants.
Trent pulls back, brushing his lips just gently against Ted’s one last time before he leans back far enough that Ted feels like he ought to open his eyes.
When he does, he sees Trent - his lips pink and well-kissed, the area around his mouth rubbed red, his eyes dark, and his hair an absolute mess where it’s fallen down around his face. Ted uses one hand to help push it back, smoothing it down a little, and smiles. “Well - hey there.”
“Ted-” Trent starts, shifting his hips just enough to remind Ted of the way they’re pressed together all the way down. “What do you want?”
“I mean if you want me to put together an alphabetized list or something, I can, but it’s gonna take me a little while,” he answers, sliding one hand down Trent’s back, rucking up his t-shirt just enough to brush his knuckles against bare skin. “Is that what you came up here to ask me?”
Though he still looks a little dazed at first, Trent laughs and ducks his head, shaking it gently. “God - no, actually.”
“Wait, really?” Ted asks, pulling his hand from Trent’s hair to place it on his shoulder instead. “Here I thought this was all some kind of an elaborate ruse.”
Trent lifts his head again and narrows his eyes at Ted with a little huff of air through his nose. “It’s not as if I can control the weather, Ted.”
“You sure about that? Feel like you make my day just a little bit brighter every time you show up.”
“That’s terrible,” Trent says, but he’s smiling enough that the corners of his eyes have crinkled up, and Ted knows he’s got him.
“Yeah, but we’ve gotta get you better at taking compliments somehow.”
“Stop it,” Trent mutters - but there’s genuine fondness in his tone, and he tips forward for a short, indulgent kiss. “You’re insufferable. I can’t believe you reminded me of what I actually meant to ask you before you - before all of this.”
“So what was it? Lay it on me, Fonzie.”
“I cannot believe I’m still hard,” Trent groans out - and that makes Ted laugh, even as his face gets warmer.
“Honestly, me neither, but allow me to state, on the record, that I am very impressed.”
“That’s not-” Trent laughs, helplessly, and presses his face against Ted’s neck to do it. “God, the worst part is I can imagine the headlines, if anyone still gave a shit about me.” Ted can feel his laughter, the warmth of his breath, and the way his body moves with it, and he has to smile, nudging his nose up against Trent’s temple.
“Hey now, I give quite a few hoots about you. And frankly I think we both oughta be glad the press can leave you alone now that you’ve left.”
“Hoots,” Trent echoes, and he tries to make it sound miserable, but Ted can still feel that he’s smiling, just a little, where it’s pressed against his collar. “Of all the men in London, it just had to be you.”
“Well, I sure am glad that it is.”
Trent sighs, and lifts his head up, fixing his gaze on Ted’s face before he reaches up to straighten his hair again. “To be completely honest, Ted, it’s a little difficult to look at anyone else while you’re around.”
“I feel the same way about you, Trent Crimm.”
Smiling, Trent presses his thumb gently to Ted’s temple. “In that case, maybe I ought to take you out for dinner first.”
“Well I don’t know if it matters that much if the order’s a little mixed up,” Ted tells him, sliding a hand back down to his lower back. “But I have to admit you can just call me a cat because the curiosity over what you actually showed up today to ask me is just about to kill me. Especially if it didn’t have anything to do with all this.”
“Considering the fact that I thought all this,” Trent pauses to punctuate his sentence with a nudge of his hips, “was entirely one-sided, on my side, no it did not have anything to do with this.”
“You really didn’t know?”
“Anytime I thought - well, if I did notice anything, I told myself I was only projecting, or seeing what I wanted to see. I had no idea if you were even interested in men, let alone in me.”
“Glad to be wrong for once?” Ted asks him with a grin.
“Yes, I suppose I am,” Trent admits. “As for my questions, maybe that would be better posed over dinner - or at least that hot cocoa. And - anyways, all of this might complicate things a little.”
“You’re not going back into journalism, are you?”
Trent shakes his head. “Not exactly. I wasn’t just saying what I told you when I quit - I do want to do something different, something better, just - of course the first idea I had still involved you, and Richmond. Little difficult to do all that when I can’t even claim to be objective anymore.”
Ted frowns, and brushes his thumb against Trent’s cheek before he steps back a little. “Does that mean-”
As quick as Ted can move, though, Trent’s already back on him again, pushing him back against the counter and shaking his head. “Not unless you’ve got a reason. I’ll come up with a thousand more book ideas - Hell, I’d write some useless fluff piece of a novel and throw away all my grand ideas if it meant I got to have this instead.”
Poking Trent in the chest, Ted pushes him back a little. “You shouldn’t give up your career for a man, Trent Crimm.”
Leaning in, Trent presses his laughter into Ted’s mouth. “Don’t you know? I already did.”
The truth of it, and the fact that Trent doesn’t seem to mind at all really socks Ted right in the gut. He wraps his arms around Trent’s shoulders and hugs him close as they kiss again - even though both of them seem to have cooled down now. It’s more tender and affectionate than hungry and desperate - and Ted wants to get back to that, as soon as possible, but it does feel like for now, the moment has passed them by.
“In that case,” Ted starts, pulling back and brushing his thumb under Trent’s lips. “How about I make that hot cocoa, and if the rain stops, you let me take you out to dinner. My treat. Since I am the reason you gave up your job and all that.”
“And if the rain doesn’t stop?” Trent asks, a little less than innocently.
“Maybe we’ll downgrade to takeout. And uh-” Ted looks at Trent’s dark eyes, and the spark he finds in them, and has to lean in for another slow kiss - one that makes his toes curl all over again, and makes his stomach twist up into pleasant little knots. “Maybe we’ll just see what happens.”
“Now that sounds like a plan,” Trent murmurs - and as he slides his hands up under Ted’s t-shirt - Ted feels like he might just be the luckiest man in London for quite a few reasons today.