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saywhatjessie · 2 years ago

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Is This Allowed?

Day one of this Writing Advent Calendar (Ao3) 1.9k Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso

“Oh, well she’s fit, isn’t she?” Keeley said, gesturing with her chin to an ad featuring a woman in reindeer themed lingerie. “Do you think I could pull that off?”

“You bet, Boba Fett,” Ted answered brightly, politely averting his eyes from the woman. “But you didn’t need me to tell you that.”

“Nah, you’re right,” she grinned at him, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. “I just love a compliment.”

“Have I been lacking in that department? I can always turn the old flatter-a-tron up to stun. As in you are stunning, Keeley, and I’m so sorry I don’t tell you enough.”

“Thank you, Ted.” She bumped him gently with her shoulder. “But you didn’t answer if I should buy the Rudolph tits or not.”

“I didn’t realize that was the question.” Ted considered it, adjusting his own bags. “I’m thinking no, Sheryl Crow.”

He watched her scrunch up her nose. “Yeah, you’re right. Probably make them look like misshapen doughballs.”

Ted shrugged. “I was more concerned with you flashing someone.” He cocked his head at the light up bra again, just in case she didn’t get the joke. She rolled her eyes and he smiled wider, satisfied.

“Are we almost wrapped up?” Keeley asked. “These bitches are getting heavy .”

“Now, I think the wrapping comes later–” Another eye roll “But I do think we are done shopping, yes.”

Keeley made a pleased sound before turning and starting their trek back to her car.

“So what’s you end up getting Trent?” Keeley asked.

“Hmm?” Ted asked, politely bewildered.

“Trent Crimm, formerly of the Independent,” Leery clarified, as if there were any other Trent. “You got him something, right? Wadja get?”

Ted’s eyebrow furrowed, truly puzzled. “I was gonna drop off a box of holiday cookies, same as last year.”

“Yeah, but you give everyone biscuits,” Keeley huffed. “I mean did you get him that quill? Or that book? Or that glasses case? Or those shoes? No, probably not the shoes. You wouldn’t know his size.”

Ted actually did know Trent’s shoe size. He wore a men’s 9 and a half.

That didn’t seem to be the important bit.

“Do you think I should buy Trent a special present?” He asked her.

Now she stopped to look at him. “You mean you weren’t going to?”

He hadn’t been. He thought it might have been too much too quick. Yeah, they were friends, and there had been that whole ‘giving up his entire journalism career for Ted’ thing, but Ted was trying to respect the pace Trent had set for their relationship. That included gifts. Cookies were okay because he could share those with his baby girl. Tickets were okay because Ted got them free anyway and Trent missed football since he left The Independent.

He hadn’t really ventured past that. He hadn’t known if he’d been allowed.

“I don’t know,” he answered her. “I mean, I thought about it–”

Keeley snorted. “Yeah, I know.” She deepened her voice. “‘Ooh, Keeley, do you think Trent would ever want to use a quill?’’Ooh, Keeley, do you think Trent’s read this book?’’Ooh, Keeley, Trent might like this glasses case, right?’”

“You need to work on your accent a tad but is that really what I sound like?”

“What, obsessed?” Keeley nodded. “Yeah, mate. I’m surprised you can’t see it.”

Maybe it wasn’t that he couldn’t see it, it was that Ted deliberately wasn’t looking.

He groaned. “So should I get him a present?”

“I mean you clearly want to.” Keeley shuffled over to a bench to put down her bags, flexing her hands. “Would it be so bad?”

“I don’t know,” Ted admitted. “I don’t know what the line is.”

Keeley sighed, leaning against the bench. “Well who’ve all you got presents for? I’ll bet Henry and Michelle’s presents are being shipped straight to America so probably not them. You've got your Staff Secret Santa–”

“And I’m not givin’ up who I’ve got, not now, not ever.”

Keeley rolled her eyes. “You bought a mug with a pun on it and one of those couple’s mittens that let you hold hands, you clearly have Higgens.”

Ted hummed, disgruntled, and Keeley continued.

“I know you got Rebecca something, even if that’s against the rules of the Staff Secret Santa, and Beard. I know you got a new football for Shannon and you even got something for Mae!” Keeley huffed. “I think if you buy a present for your local barmaid, buying something for the friend that imploded his life for you isn’t crossing any lines.

Ted hummed again, hoping he wasn’t blushing.

It was possible he may have been overthinking the situation. Doing less so he wouldn’t give himself away.

But he wasn’t going to tell Keeley that.

“Well, alright, Betty White, may she rest in peace.” Ted nodded decisively. “Getting something for Trent shouldn’t take that long. What are we thinking? The quill? The book?”

“I think the glasses case would be nice and cyclical,” Keeley answered, eyes sparkling. “Because you complimented his glasses when you first met. Kinda romantic, yeah?”

Ted blustered. “Well, I don’t know if we were trying for romantic– ”

Keeley hummed.

Ted definitely blushed.

“I’ll just run back and get the case. You can stay here with the bags.”

Ted knocked on the door to Casa de Crimm, nervous as all get out but smiling through it.

His smile must not have looked as strained and off as it felt because Trent smiled back at him as soon as he opened the door.

“Trent Crimm: Independent!” Ted greeted.

“Coach Lasso from America,” Trent responded, stepping aside to invite Ted into the house. “You didn’t say you were coming.”

Ted nervously adjusted his hands on the boxes he was holding.“Yeah, I thought about it, but then I thought let’s make like the Spanish Inquisition. For the holiday.”

“I’m not sure the element of surprise is the takeaway when likening those two prevalent features of Christianity, Ted.”

Ted frowned. “Well, shoot, you’re probably right about that. But I do have presents!”

“Presents!” Came a tiny voice before the pattering of footsteps down the hall. Ted smiled at the tiny body as it glomped onto his leg. “Biscuit man!”

“Lady Crimm!”

Clara Crimm giggled, hugging Ted around the leg before retreating to her father’s side. Trent laid a hand on top of her head, affectionately.

“Ted, you really didn’t have to.”

“Oh, poppycock. Think of me like your personal Santa’s elf. Or some other non-denominational gift bringer of your choosing.”

“Mailman!” Clara contributed.

“There we go!” Ted grinned, proferring the boxes in his hands. “You’ve got mail.”

Trent laughed, softly but fondly. Ted felt the back of his neck start to sweat.

“Daddy,” Clara said, tugging on the bottom of her father’s sweater. “Presents.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Trent petted her on the head. “Why don’t we ask Ted into the living room.”

Clara nodded, detaching herself from Trent’s leg. “This way, please!” She said before turning and making her way toward the sitting room.

Ted and Trent smiled at each other before following her.

Clara pointed at the couch, gesturing for Ted to sit there, before pulling Trent to sit on the floor with her. Trent obeyed with a roll of his eyes, shifting around so he was sitting cross-legged at Ted’s feet, his daughter in the same position.

Ted averted his eyes from Trent, chuckling distractedly. “Now I really feel like Santa.”

“Father Christmas,” Clara corrected.

“Oh, yes, pardon me,” Ted said. “Well, in any case,” he set the two smaller boxes down next to him on the couch, proffering the bigger one. “You can probably guess what these are.”

Clara took the box greedily into her lap, undoing the string and opening the top. “Biscuits!”

“I know I can’t show up here without ‘em.” Ted winked.

She giggled, immediately shoving an entire cookie into her mouth. Trent cupped the back of her head, holding his other hand beneath her mouth as crumbs spilled out. “Small, bites, love, please don’t choke. And what do we say?”

“Fank you!” She said, her mouth full, even more crumbs spilling out.

Trent sighed, “Yes, that one’s on me, I should have waited for her to swallow.”

It took a few more moments of the men watching her carefully, making sure she wouldn’t choke, before she swallowed without incident.

She grinned toothily at Ted. “Thank you, Biscuit Man. Ted.”

“You’re most welcome, Lady Crimm.” He grinned back at her. “But I do have something else for you. Not sure it will go over as well as the sweets, but–”

He handed her the smallest box. She ripped off the paper with the same enthusiasm she’d done the cookies.

She gasped. “Purple!”

Ted breathed out a sigh of relief. Yes, the matchbox car he’d given her was in fact purple.

“Purple’s my absolute favorite!” She beamed, cupping the car in her tiny hands. “Thank you, Ted!” She said without prompting, before running into the kitchen, the sounds of the tiny wheels on the hardwood floor just audible over her making racing sounds.

“Phyew!” Ted smiled. “Glad that went over well. Y’all Brits don’t really do Hot Wheels here, huh?”

“They’re not very popular, no.” Trent hummed. “Can I ask why a car?”

Ted shrugged. “Saw it. Thought she’d think the color was pretty. And this is about what I got Henry when he was her age so…”

“Hmm,” Trent said. “Well I thank you for not buying her a doll. She’s got about a dozen already she barely touches. This will at least provide some variety.”

“The spice of life,” Ted answered, brightly. “Sorry in advance for all the scuffing you’re about to find on every hard surface.”

“It’ll be a nice break from the crayon.” Trent smiled.

Ted smiled back.

They were both trapped there in that moment until Ted remembered himself and he cleared his throat.

“Well, don’t think I forgot about you, Betty Lou Who,” He picked up the last box and held it out to Trent. “Go on and open her up.”

Trent took the box, his fingers touching Ted’s as he did so. Ted didn’t think the contact was strictly necessary but he was definitely glad for it.

Trent unwrapped his present more carefully than Clara had hers. He delicately peeled the tape back, unfolding the corners, before he could slide the box from its paper.

Ted watched as he took off the lid and saw the case inside.

He let out a small laugh. “Ted…”

“Like your shoes!” Ted smiled gesturing at the leopard print. “I saw it and thought of you. How gouache would it be to have a glasses case that didn’t even match your shoes?”

“Oh, extremely gouache,” Trent agreed, grinning. “I can’t imagine something more embarrassing.”

“Well, stress no more. I’ve got you.”

“You surely do,” Trent said, looking up at Ted meaningfully.

Well , Ted thought, I guess this is allowed.

He slid from the couch onto the floor, so he was sitting face to face with Trent.

He turned on his phone screen and lifted it over his head. “Huh. Will you look at that?”

They both looked at Ted’s phone. His lockscreen was a sprig of mistletoe.

“Ah, well,” Ted continued, doing his best to sound put out. “Tradition’s must. Nothing for it.”

Trent smirked, leaning forward and cupping Ted’s jaw in his hands. “I’m not sure that should count, actually. Consider René Magritte.”

“Ceci n'est pas une mistletoe." Ted agreed. “But I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Trent shook his head but still brought his lips to Ted’s in a gentle kiss.

#Ted Lasso #Tred #Writing Advent #Oops I wrote a thing