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queers-gambit · 3 days ago

Text

Fútbol is Life

prompt: Dani Rojas always says "fútbol is life," but it wasn't supposed to take precedence over you in Roy's. when he stands you up, disappointment and repercussions ensue. -> or when Roy forgets a date with you

pairing: Roy Kent x female!reader

fandom: Ted Lasso -> no masterlist... yet

collection masterlist: Nights Like This

word count: 9.9k+

note: this is pretty tame in comparison to other angsty fics

warnings: obvious cursing, established relationship, feelings are hard, depiction and mention of anxiety, Lord's name in vain, some fluff, some angst, more so hurt and comfort, purposeful use of repetition. Coach Beard is Bestie and threatens arson, romanticized job promotion, use of Y/N, pet names for / from everyone! not edited, this fic got away from the author.

"You still in yesterday's clothes?" A deep grumble sounded from behind you; being so used to it, you weren't startled.

"Uh-huh."

"Why're you up so early?"

"Mhhhhmmmmm."

"You get any fuckin' sleep?"

"Right, right, whatever you say, baby."

A pause as the pitter-patter of a rapidly clacking keyboard filled the space.

"I'm thinkin' of wearin' Phoebe’s Elsa costume all of trainin' today, complete with the wig. Thoughts?"

"Uh-huh, sounds good, love," the clatter continued until the screen that burned your retinas suddenly closed, and should you not have retracted your hands, would've been the meat of a technology sandwich. "Oi!" You snapped, looking up to meet Roy's knowing glare. "What'd you do that for? You're lucky this automatically saves!"

"Sweetheart," Roy leered, lowering so he balanced his hands on the arm of the sofa you occupied, "you're not good to anyone half-dead. A single night isn't gonna do anything more than what you've already done the past months."

You deflected shyly, "I'm just editing."

"At 95 words per-fuckin'-minute?"

While Roy glared, you expressed sheepishness, "I just - it needs to be perfect, okay? Today can't be anything less." He growled knowingly, handing you the perfect cup of coffee you didn't hear, smell, see, or realize he made with a kiss to the top of your head. With a smile, you bid, "Thank you, lovebug."

He grunted and took the seat beside you. "Right, then. Let's see it," he gestured for your laptop.

"You're not gonna understand what it says, it's all corporate lingo and statistics and - "

"Don't fuckin' matter - hand it over."

You slowly, cautiously, placing the computer on his lap. He flipped the lid and scanned the 60-some page document swiftly, skipped through the paired PowerPoint, nodded with his usual growl, then slapped it shut and pushed it onto the coffee table. "Fuck's sake, Roy!" You protested, trying to lean forward to take it back.

"Nope," he caught you beforehand and pulled you back to rest together against the cushions. He even reached around you to one of the many fuzzy pillows you decorated with, giving it a fluff, then situated it behind you comfortably. "We're gonna sit here for a moment, let you decompress. Like I said, you're no good half-fuckin'-dead. Just take a fuckin' breather, love, c'mon."

You deflated, pouting at him. "I just wanna do well."

Roy stretched his arm around your shoulders, letting you curl into his side. "I don't know what you're so stressed about. Hardest Goddamn worker I know, they'd be fuckin' idiots to pass you over for this promotion."

"You call them idiotic, unqualified, pampered wankers everyday," you giggled.

"'Cause they fuckin' are."

"Yes, yes, I know. But with me in this new position, maybe I can change things up so we're not all fuckin' wankers, hey?"

"Promotion or not, you'd never be like them," he mused, "you're too fuckin' pure, so innocent; sometimes, it makes me sick."

"You bloody romantic," you snickered, leaning your forehead to his temple.

"Just don't tell anyone, I've got a reputation to uphold. Still need a ride today, doll?"

"No, 's all right, baby, I hate makin' you late. Thank you, though, Sully's gonna pick me up."

"Know I don't care 'bout punctuality - 'specially when it's t'help you."

"Yeah, but you know I hate being dependent on or inconveniencing others."

He hummed, "You hear from the garage yet? How much longer they gonna keep your car?"

"They said probably in the next day or two, so, you'll officially be relieved of chauffeur duties very soon," you lifted your head to peck his fuzzy cheek.

"Oh, shut it - know you love me drivin' you 'round."

"Guilty," you grinned. "Makes me feel like a princess."

"Good, not doin' my job if you don't. So you wanna tell me why you're doin' work before actually goin' inta work?"

You shrugged meekly, readjusting so your legs were tossed over his lap, taking your own pull of coffee before answering, "I'm just makin' sure everything's in order, I'm a bit nervous to present all this."

"Darlin', it's as perfect as you are. And fuck the presentation, you're gonna make it your bitch and smash it. Should those twats in suits not think so, just call me... I'll set the bastards straight."

You hummed, smiling at him brightly. "You're a regular knight in shining armor, aren't yah? Who's just lookin' for reasons t'yell?"

"Always," he grunted, sipping his coffee, "every princess needs a knight, don't she?"

"Not a prince?"

"Nah, princes are over-fuckin'-raided, spoiled, pampered li'l spineless bitches."

You eyed him for a suspicious moment, quipping, "You or Pheebs come up with that?"

"Pheebs," he growled with a proud smirk. "Feel sorry for any bloke that comes her way."

"No you don't, you relish the idea of beating the shit outta anyone that remotely shows interest in her."

Roy chuckled gruffly, "I'm a man, I know how they think. So, if you figure out another way to keep her safe, feel free to share. Now, what time you gotta go?"

"Uh," you checked your watch, "Sully should be here soon, I should probably finish getting ready... Or start getting ready, I mean."

"Could save time and shower together," he smirked.

With laughter, you shook your head, "As tempting as that is, baby, we're on a time limit."

"Don't matter, I'll just drop you at work - they can't start until you're there anyway."

"Yeah, but you've got trainin' t'get to, love."

"So fuckin' what? I can be late. Ted'll understand - since he fuckin' adores you for whatever fuckin' reason."

"Because I'm fucking adorable," you snickered before leaning in to kiss him with another smile. "I appreciate you, baby, but I've got it. Thank you for offering and, you know, driving me everywhere the past week - but I really, really can't afford t'be late today."

Roy heaved a heavy sigh, "All right. Fine. C'mon, then," he grunted under his breath as he stood, "let's get you dressed."

"First time you've ever said that," you laughed, snatching his hand to lift onto your feet; following him to the bedroom. In tandem, you both prepared for your days at work; and while you didn't need to offer any vote to his fit - being the same monochromatic look everyday - you consulted his opinion on an appropriate fit for that day's presentation.

"You don't think that's a bit... Too sexy?" He asked, eyeing the heather grey pencil dress from where it hung on the closet door. "Tits look fuckin' spectacular in that - maybe too good for work."

"Kinda figured if I get nervous and fuck up orally, the way I look will be enough to distract," you smirked. "Or should I wear that little white number - "

"No, no, fuck no, you wear that for me and me alone," Roy grit, making you snicker and drop your robe; revealing a matching set of lingerie. His head cocked, eyeing you up and down, "I buy you that?"

You glanced at the bralette, sending him a smirk, "Not this one, but it is new; thought a matching set would give me a confidence boost. You like it?"

"Fuckin' love it," he mused, "not loving that you're wearing it for work, though."

"Well, maybe you should take me out tonight so it doesn't go to waste," you beamed, tugging the clingy material over your body; adjusting it as needed.

"Fuck yeah, I'm gonna take you out tonight. Fuckin' hell - look at yah! Not 'bouta let this look go to waste, gotta show you off."

With a smile, you informed, "I'll be out 'round 4."

Roy smirked, watching you debate shoes. "Them blue ones, there," he pointed to a pair of Tiffany blue heels that laced around your ankle; the aglet being a fun puff ball to add a hint of whimsy. "Right, how's 'bout dinner at Bordeaux? Drinks at Johnny's after?"

"You don't drink durin' the season," you reminded, dropping to the bed beside him to secure your shoes. He pulled your legs to his lap, sliding the heels over your feet and lacing them.

"Yeah, but I'll make an exception t'celebrate your new promotion. Hey?"

"That sounds really nice," you agreed. "Let's pray we're drinking in celebration and not in dejection."

Roy scoffed, "Fuck off. You've busted your arse for this, it's gonna go exactly as you plan."

"You sure you got trainin' today? Can't come with me, be my personal source of confidence?" You pouted, leaning into his side with your chin on his shoulder; hand finding his to lace together. "Maybe bully the higher-ups a bit into accepting my proposals?"

"Don't need me," he soothed in a rumble, "your work speaks for itself. You're just nervous, love, but it'll go away once you get your ball rollin'."

"Pun intended?" You smirked, earning a deadpanned expression. So you groaned and stood to finish getting ready, snipping, "Well why can't they just read my reports and such? Why do I have to present it?"

"Because they like it when you dumb it down so they don't have to actually fuckin' think. They only run the company 'cause they bought their way in, didn't earn it by merit - like you will."

"Oh... Thaaaat's right," you grinned, leaning into the mirror to push earrings through your piercings. "Love, could you hand me - ah, thank you," you smiled when he appeared behind you, hand splayed to present your usual jewelry. "Right," you finished latching the clasp, turning in the mirror to get a full look at yourself, then facing Roy. With your arms held in bravado, you quipped, "Well? What do yah think?"

"I'd buy any-fuckin'-thing you're selling," he nodded, arms sweeping around your waist.

"I'm not selling anything but myself as president of the very company I helped get off the bloody ground."

"I stand by my statement."

Your phone buzzed, smartwatch lighting up with notification. "Sully's here," you sighed, latching your arms around his neck, "and you've gotta get goin'."

"Hm," he growled, leaning in to press his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. "'S gonna be a great day, doll, can feel it for yah."

"Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend? He's not usually so optimistic."

"Ha-ha," he grit, but the smirk on his lips assured he knew you were only teasing him. "C'mon, love."

Roy waited at the front door as you finished flitting around the home, grabbing your laptop and work purse, phone, chargers, keys, whatever you needed for the day; scampering out the door he held. Your coworker-slash-bestie, Erica Sullivan, a.k.a. Sully, waited in her BMW on the street, watching you walk Roy to his car.

"Bordeaux at 4:30?" You checked, him peering down at you fondly.

"I'll be there, baby. Now," he growled, "kick today's arse, and kick that meetin' every harder - always go for the crotch. Hey?"

"Mhm," you smiled, nodding in agreement. "Have a good day," you whispered, letting his lips drop to yours, "be nice to Coach Lasso - oh! - and tell Beard I finished our book and next is either Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant or Things Fall Apart."

"What's that fuckin' matter?"

"We bet who finishes each book first, winner chooses the next."

"Can't believe you're in a fuckin' bookclub with him," he scoffed slightly, looking mildly annoyed; which made you grin.

"You can't be jealous, I invite you each time!"

"Whatever," he scoffed, checking his watch. "Right, we better get goin' - "

"One more, one more, one more," you pouted, "for my nerves."

He chuckled and slid his hand across your jaw to romantically hold the back of your neck at the base of your head. "Got plenty of those, love, c'mere," he muttered, bringing you in for another kiss that made your head spin. His tongue swept against yours slowly, honestly riling you up versus calming you down - and it would've progressed if Sully didn't lay on her horn.

"I love you both but I need coffee!" She shouted from her window when you broke apart to glare at her car. "Let's go! Hurry the fuck up, you can dick her down anytime! We've got a real job t'get to!"

"Might honestly strangle her," Roy muttered, rolling his eyes, redirecting your attention to him. "Listen t'me, don't fuckin' worry 'bout today - you know you're prepared; you're gonna fuckin' kill it. Don't ever second guess yourself about what you deserve."

"Thanks, baby," you whispered, smiling, pecking his lips one more time. "All right, go, go, go, you gotta get gone or Beard'll give me that unnerving stare next bookclub."

He sighed heavily, but relented, "Love you, doll."

"Love you, too, handsome." You turned to leave, but Roy pushed off his car to ease his arm around your shoulders as you headed for Sully. "What're you - "

"My girl doesn't touch doors, you know this," he answered easily, gruffly opening the passenger door of the BMW. He took your purse, offering his hand to ease you into the seat; leaning down to set your belongings at your feet and nod at the driver. "Sully..."

"Fuckface," she smirked.

He growled in the back of his throat while glaring at your snickering bestie; looking at you softer, "Good luck today, sweetheart."

"Thank you, baby," you whispered with a growing grin; always entertained by Sully and Roy's competition and feigned distain for one another.

Never minding the fact that Roy personally saved her from a horrible date once - it'd ruin their power dynamic.

With one last glare to your snickering best friend, he grunted and lifted up to properly shut the door. You tried to watch him back to his car, but Sully was already zooming off.

"Nervous 'bout today, lovie?"

"No shit," you frowned, "considering the biggest promotion of my life really rides on this."

"I know, but I guess you're kinda supposed t'be nervous since you're goin' for an admin position. What was Fuckface's reaction?"

You pinned her with a sideways glare, answering with a sigh, "Supportive, as usual. We're goin' to Bordeaux tonight either to celebrate or drown my disappointing sorrow."

"Oh, fuck off, you've been working on this for, what? 6 years? And no, I'm not just saying that 'cause you got me a kickarse job."

You corrected with a snicker, "Might as well be 6 bloody years, all the God forsaken hours I've put in."

"Breathe, babes," she beamed, "you're gonna fuckin' kill it."

"You sound like Roy."

"Ah, fuck, can't have that. Even though he took the love of my life," she scoffed slightly, making you coo obnoxiously.

"Oh, babes, know you're my first and greatest love."

"Better be," she grumbled, "put over two decades inta yah, better be your first choice."

"Not my only choice?"

"Well, I can't give you babies... You know, I don't produce sperm - stupid fuckin' biology and shit."

"That fickle bitch."

She hummed in agreement. "Now... I know it's your turn to buy coffee but I got it, bit of a treat for your big day. But when you get that promotion, you're buying for a month."

"Deal and deal," you laughed.

After the most successful day of your career, your walk to Bordeaux was spent dialing your family to relay the news. Your mother squealed and cried with joy, repeating her pride and calling your father on a three-way; and your siblings pleaded for bragging rights as you were officially one of the youngest female presidents of any company. They also began rattling off expensive Christmas and birthday gifts they've longed for. Naturally, you mockingly scolded them for spending money you didn't have yet, but secretly took note of their suggestions before telling them to stay off social media until the official press release was published. That way, you controlled who knew.

Arriving at the prestigious French restaurant around 4:15, you put your name down for two; accepting a place at the bar until a table was available. The dining room was fully packed with patrons, waitstaff zipping around in perfected synchronization.

"Hello, love," the kind bartender greeted, "what can I get started for yah?"

"Oh, uh..." You scanned the drinks menu, "um... Maybe just... A Merlot?"

"Hmm. Are we celebrating tonight?" The young lad pressed, sensing your indecision.

"Yeah, just a job promotion," you couldn't fight your grin, "but my partner's not here yet, so maybe no champagne yet."

"Understood," he nodded.

"You know what? I am celebrating," you beamed confidently. "So, I'll have whatever you recommend."

"Any preferences?"

"I like sweet wines - oh! And mojitos!"

"Then you would've hated the Merlot - but not to brag, love, I make a mean coconut mojito."

"It's like you read my mind," you agreed with a bright smile.

By the end of your drink, your table was ready... And it was going on 4:30 in the evening; so you texted Roy there wouldn't be a wait, that you got a table. After following the hostess, you sat facing the restaurant to catch Roy's arrival; purse hanging on the back of your chair, gingerly fingering the flowers nervously as the minutes began to tick.

So, you waited. And made up elaborate backgrounds for the strangers around you.

Understanding training could go overtime, you didn't want to press Roy yet; so you enjoyed an appetizer, knowing he wouldn't mind you starting before him, and a second mojito. You even ordered a nice bottle of imported champagne, letting it chill on ice in a bucket beside the table; feeling a little pathetic uncorking a bottle by yourself.

You waited. And impulsively treated yourself, buying your Amazon cart.

Catching sight of few people sneaking pictures of the Great Roy-fucking-Kent's girlfriend, you tried to act as unbothered, natural, and aloof as you could in the spotlight of scrutinization; feeling humiliated, foolish, so bloody stupid.

You waited. And checked your email.

By 5, you ordered an entrée you knew Roy would enjoy and checked your phone. There were several messages from your family, new work emails, a few push notifications... But nothing from Roy.

You texted him again: did i get the wrong time? thought we said 4:30?

The complimentary basket of bread was replenished as you called his number - but it rang, and rang, and rang until his voicemail picked up.

"Uh, hey, it's, like, 5 and I'm sitting in this fucking restaurant alone, Roy. Where the hell are you? What's going on? Could at least text me if you're gonna be late. I already ordered for us. As annoyed as I am right now, I love you... Please call me back, or text me, or better yet, please, walk through the bloody door."

You waited. And doom-scrolled social media.

Your leg bounced from anxiety, something sinking your stomach to your feet the longer the minutes ticked. Unsolicited tears filled your eyes but refused to fall in public; skin feeling prickly and sweaty, ribcage made of iron, not bone. Looking around the hoard of patrons enjoying their dates, you had to mentally beat jealousy off with a stick riddled with protruding nails. It hurt something fierce seeing so many other people who weren't stood up; their sideways glances cast as if you were a social pariah and they pitied you.

Pity was the last thing you ever wanted, so you pretended to look busy to give the impression you were alone on purpose.

With each glance to your message thread, you grew increasingly uncomfortable seeing so many blue bubbles; a divide between the texts that delivered and those that didn't. Roy knew you had abandonment issues stemming from your parents and general anxiety; so the idea he was ghosting you filled your heart and mind with lead; mixing in your blood to pump through your body and weigh on your soul. He's never behaved such as this before, so while you knew in your subconscious he wasn't ignoring you, the little devil on your shoulder hissed Roy had enough of you and set up this date only to get you out of the house so he could pack his shit in peace. Heat flushed your core, worried he fell out of love with you and didn't know how to say it - but on the off chance he did show up at this point, you remained in your chair.

So, you waited. And played Candy Crush.

Calling him again, and again, and again; all going straight to voicemail. On the fourth redial, you left another message: "Roy, seriously," you snarled quietly, "where the fuck are you!?I've been waiting for you over an hour! They're gonna ask I surrender the table soon if you don't show up soon. Please, call me back or send a bloody text."

You were served two meals about 45 minutes later - long wait due to the overwhelmed kitchen - thanking the waiter with a meek, watery tone; emotional from sending so many unanswered texts and several voicemails. Your appetite paired with coconut mojitos cascaded into the void of mortification, nearly sending the plate back - but you felt that was horribly rude and a waste of time, money, and energy from the toxicity of self-deprecation. Instead of the divine-smelling roasted duck ordered, your stomach filled with panic, wondering why you were even still here!? You began to reprimand yourself for prolonging this situation and causing your own hurt; thinking you should've left within half an hour of his ghosting, not endure silent humiliation that was sure to end up in tomorrow's tabloids.

Why am I still here? Why am I still here? Why the fuck am I still here?

Because you knew the devil on your shoulder was wrong. Roy would never do something like this maliciously, and selfishly wanted to have a rare on-season date night. You weren't known for giving up; and after his experiences, refused to give up on Roy no matter how upset you might be with him at any given moment - so you began mentally gaslight yourself by designing excuses and giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Your heart rate escalated.

Your leg bounced with an entirely new anxiety than you started the day with when 6:30 rolled around, feeling something akin to devastating realization he wasn't coming to this overpriced, always-booked restaurant that was supposed to be a date to celebrate you. Then the thought suddenly occurred to you: what if something happened? Was he hurt? Was it his knee? A car crash? Some emergency? If there had been some kind of incident, shouldn't someone have called you by now, being his incase of emergency (ICE) contact? Did he get into a brawl with Jamie again, earning laps as punishment? Was there something going on with the team - was someone hurt? - and since he was captain, required to stay late to help?

You wondered how much longer you'd sit there, alone, looking like a lonely fucking prick.

Hating the anticipation and lack of communication, so you hit Coach Beard's contact while pushing food around the plate to give the illusion of eating. You cleared your sinuses and throat to mask the emotional turmoil. "I was just gonna text you my vote is Things Fall Apart, so you better not be calling to gloat, chickadee," Beard answered, "I know you won."

"Well, howdy to you, too, cowboy," you chuckled.

"Reach for the sky, bay-baayyyy!"

You snickered, "Careful, Coach, Disney doesn't approve of personal use of their propaganda."

"Only if they catch me," he chuckled dryly. "What can I do you for, twirly girly?"

"Oh, right. Listen, toots, uh, what's goin' on over there? How late are you gonna keep the lads?"

"Uh...? We're not, they're gone for the day."

You hushed, "Well, Roy and I had plans to meet for dinner 2 hours ago and he isn't here. Is he okay? Is he there? He has to be there, Coach, please tell me he's still there."

"Uhhhh... Well... See, what had happened was - "

"Beard, where the fuck is Roy? Is he hurt?"

"Um... No, not per se..."

"Well, what can you say? You better answer me or I'm tellin' Jane 'bout Halloween."

There was a long pause, hearing him sigh, "He's with the team, they went out."

"Wait, wait, wait - w-what? Out? Out where?" Your heart plummeted, throat constricting in white hot emotion.

"Hang on, honey." His voice sounded away from the receiver, "Hey, Coach?"

"Yeah, Coach?" You heard Ted.

"Where'd the guys go?"

"Oh, some new bar down the way that stays open past closin' time. Which is considerably early compared to America's 2am curfew."

"Hear that, pumpkin?" Beard spoke into the phone.

"It's a pub," you corrected automatically, "and yeah, I heard."

"What's goin' on?"

"Is that my sunshine!?" Ted was heard. "Put 'er on speaker! I wanna say hi!" You smiled despite the disappointment racking your mind, body, and soul as Beard obviously did as bid, the American coach cooing, "Hey, buggaboo! How you doin'? I'm sure you look real pretty today!"

You chuckled, "Hi, Teddy."

"Know what? I never liked that nickname 'til you started callin' me it!"

"You like anything I do, you overly supportive sap."

"Awh, you sure know how to flatter a guy. What's goin' on, sunshine? Ain't'cha out with the boys?"

"No, Coach, I'm actually sitting alone in a stupidly nice restaurant - apparently being stood up by my boyfriend who'd rather go out drinkin' with his mates without a word to me."

"HE WHAT!?" Beard yelled, making you flinch and jerk the phone from your ear. When you brought it back, you caught the tail end of his rant, " - and he'll run laps all day tomorrow! No breaks! Or I'll burn. This place. DOWN!"

"Beard? Honey?" You waited patiently as Ted was trying to calm his friend down, too. "Honey? Hey, you listenin'?"

"Yeah," Beard grumbled.

"Both you boys listenin'?"

"Uh-huh, what's up, sunshine?" Ted answered. "I got my hand on Beard's mouth, he ain't gonna interrupt yah. Go 'head."

You paused, taking a breath, "I got the promotion."

"YOU WHAT!?" Ted now yelled, Beard heard echoing right after; them obviously celebrating. You chuckled sadly, feeling ashamed over telling them first over Roy - but it wasn't like he was answering his phone, no way of relaying this life changing event. "Holy guacamole, sunshine! This is - wow! Just wow! Congratulations! Oh, my good golly all mighty! You got the job!? Oh, man! We gotta celebrate!"

You perked up a little, "Well, uh, if you're interested, I'm... I'm at this French place and might've already ordered a bottle of champagne. Would you two like to join me? I think it's a bit sad t'drink it alone."

"Hell, yes! We're on the way, peach!" Beard declared. "Ted - Ted - Ted, your bag."

"Oh, right!"

"And keys."

"Where - ah, there they are! Got 'em!"

"And phone!"

"Ah, dang it!"

Beard told you, "We're on our way there... Wait, where's there?"

You chuckled and promised to text the address so he just had to click it and follow the iPhone GPS. You asked them their order before hanging up; asking your waiter to box Roy's food and put in for their meals, also requesting your meal be reheated and brought back at the same time as the others. You finished another mojito by the time they arrived around 7, an extra chair being brought to the table; both holding bouquets of flowers they bought from a local shop on the way.

Standing to hug the two Americans, you thanked them repeatedly for being so kind and supportive; all sitting to enjoy the cuisine and pop the champagne. Despite their silliness and good-natured ways that was obviously exaggerated to distract you, the coaches couldn't miss the way your eyes were dimmed from your boyfriend's antics even if they tried.

"You know, I'm sure Roy ain't mean to forget. The boys thought they'd go out to this, uh, this new place to celebrate a real good day. It's some bar - "

"Pub," Beard corrected, nodding at you.

"Right, right, they went to this new pub down the way," Ted nodded. "Apparently, Richmond drinks for free and them boys wasn't gonna let that pass."

"Well," you huffed, "good to know."

"You all right, sunshine?"

"Oh, for sure," you snipped, downing the last champagne in your flute; Beard instantly refilling it. "I just love being stood up, simply adore bein' forgotten."

"Well, we're here to celebrate you - with you," Ted grinned. "C'mon, now, tell us all about this new gig! Spare no detail! We want it all!"

"Do you even know what position I was goin' for?"

"Nope, but I know it was mighty important."

"President," Beard answered, Ted gasping.

"And you got it!? Oh-ho-hooo! Awh, man! This is cause for dessert! Coach?"

"Absolutely. Pumpkin?"

"Oh, what the hell! Crêpes on me," you grinned. "Actually, think I could ask you two a favor?"

"Anything."

"Whatcha need, sunshine?" Ted snickered at Beard's stoic posture and deadpanned expression whilst still conveying support.

"Think you could arrange a meetin' with Rebecca for me? I know she's all busy but I could use some advice as a woman in power - and some style inspiration, if I'm honest."

"I thought you had her number?" Beard asked.

"I do, I just kinda hope she'd be more inclined to agree meetin' me if from you lot...?"

"Well, as far as I've seen, she likes you a helluva lot more than us - "

"Done," Ted chirped, already pulling out his phone as the waiter approached the table. Beard chuckled at Ted before ordering dessert for everyone. Coach Lasso then wondered, "Hey, you try textin' any of the other guys?"

"No, I called Beard when Roy didn't answer, thought trainin' went overtime or someone got hurt, that there might've been some situation," you shrugged. "And honestly? I don't think I really want t'talk t'him right now. Feelin' a bit..."

"Angry?"

"Abandoned?"

"Flustered?"

"Rattled?"

"Forgotten?"

Your head volleyed between the two, nodding, "You two are scary perceptive. Yes to all, but for what it's worth, this is a helluva consolation celebration."

"Cheers to that," Ted beamed, hoisting his glass over the table. You and Beard followed, "To Sunshine! And her shiny new job! We're real proud of you and can't wait to see what you do!" He looked to Beard pointedly.

"To our friend - the very best of us."

Three glasses clinked together.

"Thanks, youuuu guys - ugh, such sweetie-peaties!" You sang, arm slung over Beard's shoulder as he and Ted walked you to your front door; the taxi idling on the street, your home being too far to walk from the restaurant. "I could've gotten to the doooooor."

"Uh-huh," Ted chuckled when you stumbled, "and miss the chance to see where y'all live?"

"Why? Need home decor inspiration?" You teased. "Ah, fuck," you glared at your keys, "why do I have so many!?"

"'Cause you're big and important," Beard reminded you, earning a giggle of agreement.

"I gotcha, gimme that," Ted mused as Beard supported you upright. "All righty, let's see here - nope, not that one... Uh, this one? No, no... This one! Aha!" The door swung open to a dark home, Coach Ted Lasso mentioning, "Huh, guess the guys are still out."

"Fuck 'em."

"Atta girl," Beard mused, "step carefully, there you go. Easy, easy." They helped you into your home, letting you drop tiredly on the couch. "I got the leftovers," Coach Beard mentioned, moving into your kitchen as Ted propped your feet to the cushion and unlaced your heels.

"Hey, you still awake, girlie?" He shook your knee.

"Mh," he earned a grumble and swatted hand.

Ted couldn't help but chuckle lightly, "All right, well, I'm settin' your alarm, okay? Rebecca said she'll meet with yah tomorrow - so, don't you worry."

"Mmmh, but woooooork," you groaned.

"Uh-huh. Who should I text 'bout that? Don't think you're makin' it in tomorrow, sunshine."

You grumbled unintelligibly, Beard returning. "I got it," he plucked your phone from Ted's grasp. "Siri, text Sully: Won't be in tomorrow, will explain later, love you."

As Ted covered you with a throw blanket, the phone beeped to indicate the message was sent. "Y'all, like, secret best friends or somethin'?" He snickered with shock. Beard shrugged. "Well, now that's just dangerous," Ted continued, "can use anyone's phone to do anything, huh?"

"Eh," Beard shrugged again, leaving your phone on the coffee table and ushering Ted out. They felt bad about leaving your door unlocked, but figured Roy would be home soon enough - considering the time of night and his position as captain. He was usually more responsible than this...

The taxi had just pulled around the corner when Roy's car pulled in; oblivious to the pain he caused via his empty pockets, phone forgotten in his cubby. It had been a particularly good day where everything alined properly during training - which put the whole team on a high - prompting Issac to recommend they go celebrate. Ted thought it was a great idea for bonding; loving that the team had grown together as of late and encouraged any activity or amount of time outside the Richmond facility as possible.

He didn't know until later he should've reminded Roy of his promise to meet you for dinner and drinks before they left... But the Captain's relationship wasn't the Coach's responsibility.

Still minimally tipsy, Roy rushed for the front door with the intention of cuddling you until morning, nearly stumbling in; not expecting it to be unlocked. However, he slowed his roll when he spotted you on the couch; dead asleep, heels left on the floor, work bag leaning against the coffee table, and in the kitchen, bouquets of flowers on the counter. He knew you loved florals and often decorated with fresh blooms so this wasn't abnormal and didn't so much as tickle a memory. Roy just bent at the waist to kiss your forehead, rummage in your purse for your phone charger, plug it in, then stumbled off to bed. For the past three months, it was common to find you passed out on the couch - so this, too, wasn't a flag in his mind.

Roy wasn't usually so oblivious or forgetful, but as Dani Rojas says: fútbol is life. And sometimes, football distracted even the great Roy Kent.

By the time he woke the following morning, he wasn't near hungover but found water and tablets on the side table you preemptively left. He half expected you to be cuddled into his side, but the bed was still made - indicating you hadn't crawled in whenever you woke up. Grumbling, Roy made it downstairs only to discover the living room empty and cleaned up, but found a note on the kitchen counter.

Eat the leftovers so they don't go to waste

No signature, no drawn heart you usually attached, nothing sentimental or affectionate to your words. He tried not to think much of it, but in truth, Roy felt anxious about your lack of decoration or pet name; checking for his phone but after being unable to locate it, figured he must've left it at work. With a growl, he got ready and headed out; not liking his days that didn't start with you but tried to ride the high from yesterday. It didn't work.

When Roy entered the facility, he was surprised to see you at the far end of the hall, walking towards him in stride with Rebecca, chatting. "Hey, darlin'," he greeted, earning a glare from the owner of the team and not even a single glance from you. "Oi? Why aren't you at work? The fuck's goin' on? You were gone before I got up, could've drove together if I knew you were comin' - "

"We're busy, Kent, and you need to get moving," Rebecca snapped, looking to whatever you were showing her on your phone after; matching stilettos clacking through the hall as the pair passed him by.

"The fuck?" Roy muttered, brows furrowed in angry confusion; not understanding what he did to deserve such treatment. You next to never gave him the silent treatment or cold shoulder, so this felt alarming. "Baby! Hey! Did somethin' happen? C'mon, doll, talk to me!" He watched you disappear around the corner, growling to himself. He stormed down the hall, making several club attendants leap out of his warpath.

"Woah," Sam shied out of the way when a fuming Roy came barging into the locker room. "You all right, Captain? Ah, is it because Y/N couldn't make it last night? Didn't you see her? She's here today! She looks very pretty - "

"Captain," Beard snapped before Roy could respond, standing stoically in the doorway of his office; arms crossed. "Change of plans. Get in here."

Roy bared his teeth and begrudgingly followed Beard into the office where Nate and Ted were trying to look busy - but failing as they were obviously listening. "What's up, Coach?" Roy grit, not in the mood for any more shit now that he knew you were obviously pissed - at him.

"You're not gonna be part of training today," Beard snipped with a glare, feet lifting to cross on his desk.

"Come again?"

"You're gonna run laps the whole time." When Roy opened his mouth, Beard snapped, "No, it's not up for discussion. Now go. Get out, get ready."

"The fuck's up with everyone today?" He snarled, shaking his head and returning to his locker. With vigor, he searched for his phone - finding it locked in the cubby - dead. "Fuck's sake," he scoffed, glancing beside him to Sam. "Got a charger, mate?"

"Oh, uh, no, my phone is fully charged every night," Sam winced. "Richard might."

It took Roy a few minutes, but eventually Colin pulled his charger out and Roy left his phone plugged in on Ted's desk; changing for that day's session, stalking out of the locker room behind the rest of the team. On the pitch, the others began warming up - but Beard was glaring behind his sunnies directly at Roy, waiting for him to get going.

"You fuckin' serious?" Roy barked.

"Go. I wanna see knees-to-chest," Beard grit, arms crossing as Ted and Nate were to the side; talking quietly as if to avoid interfering with Beard's plan.

With a heavy sigh, Roy pivoted on his toes and started at a jog - earning several harsh blows of Beard's whistle to, "pick up the pace, knees-to-chest, remember!?". It was brutal on Roy's joints and lungs, his kit soon drenched in sweat from the prolonged exertion; the only real saving grace being Nate's offered sports drink each time he made his rounds. The longer he ran, the more time he had to mull over possible reasons for this punishment - but his mind was so jumbled with anger that he couldn't think straight.

His gaze often lifted towards the windows of Rebecca's office; seeing her figure, your's, Keeley's, and Higgins' all milling around at different intervals. He missed each time you paused at the window to watch him run those horrid laps.

When Ted blew the whistle that signaled the end of practice, Roy grunted as his legs turned to jelly to land on his chest in the grass. He was exhausted in body and mind; heaving for breath, letting Issac and Dani pick him up by the arms to sling around their shoulders. His feet dragged as they moved slowly, face contorted in pain; your glare lessening with sympathy from the areal advantage the longer you watched.

"You all right, babe?" Keeley asked, joining you at the window.

"I know I'm pissed - "

"Rightfully," Rebecca nodded from her desk.

"But fuck's sake, look at him," you sighed, hands slapping to your thighs. "Think that was punishment enough, Coach worked him pretty hard."

"He deserves it," Keeley scoffed.

"Right, right, right," your eyes rolled. "Rebecca, think I could pick your brain about a few things now? I'm sorry I took up all this time to complain."

"You needed to vent," Higgins spoke softly, "and this is a safe space."

"He's right," Keeley smiled with encouragement, "know we're all here for you, babes."

"Right, yeah," you cleared your throat, not entirely used to the supportive nature they've all adopted since hiring Ted Lasso. "But, uh, I do kinda need to speak with Miss Welton - not that I don't adore yours and Leslie's input, but it's kinda her wheelhouse."

"Oh, of course!" Keeley agreed, ushering Higgins out; all three ladies ignoring the dejected expression he wore over not being included in whatever matter you needed Rebecca's private ear for.

"Could I get you a refill?" Rebecca offered as you dropped to her couch with a sigh.

"Please," you agreed, letting her take your teacup. When she joined your side, she questioned what more you needed from her. "With this new position, I'm feelin' a bit insecure about my attitude towards the people I've worked beside for years. I mean, now I'm the big boss and that's just intimidatin' and a bit confusin'. Plus I'm worried about how I'll be received by the men I'll be surrounded by; also about now, with all this added responsibility, how I leave work at work and not bring it home. So I was wondering if I could pick your brain 'bout those bits. I mean," you took a small sip of tea, "you're the baddest bitch I know, figured there's nobody better to ask - pardon my language."

"No, no, I quite like it," she smirked, leaning into the back sofa cushions. "I'd steer clear of foul language around men, though; they tend to shy away from women with mouths."

"Not in my experience," you chuckled, earning a small snort from her. "Sometimes I feel like I'm only heard when I curse, partly blame Roy for that one."

"Oh, yes, that too - but don't let them rile you up to that point. It'll give them the wrong impression."

"What's the right impression?"

"Strong and capable," she smirked, sipping from her own cup. "Mh," she hummed with a broad smirk, "and just so you know, for future reference, I'm much more inclined to agree to you directly rather than Ted or Beard."

Downstairs, Keeley and Higgins paused at the bottom of the stairs to watch Roy basically be dragged into the locker room - sharing a knowing look and taking pity. "Think we should say something?" Keeley asked.

"Probably, there's the possibility of this turnin' violent," Leslie sighed, the two entering; discovering Roy had been deposited under the cold stream of water in the showers. They were given an opening to scamper into the manager's office and shut the door.

"Well, hi there! Just the two people I wanted to see come through that door! Well, that's a lie, I was hopin' for Sonny and Cher, but hey! This is even better!" Ted grinned, placing his phone down. "What do we own this pleasure? Oh! Is this is a Diamond Dogs situation?"

"Kinda, yeah," Higgins nodded, sharing a look with Keeley. Luckily, all Dogs were already present; but the Coaches and kitman still did their silly little howl.

"All right!" Ted beamed, drumming on his desk. "Whatcha got for us, Higgy, and honorary Pup?"

Keeley preened at the title while Higgins asked carefully, "Are you aware of what transpired between Roy and Y/N?"

"Oh," Ted glanced at a glowering Beard, "yes, uh, we are very much aware."

"Is that why you made him run laps all day?" Keeley asked pointedly yet with amusement.

"That was all him," Ted pointed at Beard; eyes wide like saucers. "Yeah, uh, you know, we might've... Might've let our emotions get the better of us this time."

"He deserves to be punished," Beard growled, staring at a single place on the floor.

"What's that, now?" Keeley asked in clarification. "Well, look, we ask 'cause she's upstairs with Rebecca, all kinds of upset. I mean, shit! She's the youngest woman to take over this type of position and her own boyfriend stood her up when they were meant to celebrate the news? I mean," she scoffed, looking around the men, "what the fuck is that shit!?"

"Yeah," Ted sighed, "Beard and I met her for dinner last night. Guessing Roy left his phone here..." He glanced at the device on his desk.

"She called you?" Higgins asked Ted.

"She called me," Beard answered stiffly, "wonderin' where Roy was. She worried he was hurt or something happened."

"Right, well, she's feelin' a bit better," Keeley nodded. "So, uh, maybe one of you could clue Roy in so they can hurry up and make up. Him bein' this oblivious isn't doin' nobody any favor."

"Nothing's really in order if those two are at odds," Higgins nodded nervously. "I mean, we all remember their last fight."

"Oh, God, yeah, that was brutal," Keeley winced.

"Roy came in and immediately headbutted Jamie so hard, it broke his nose," Nate recalled with a grimace. "I know he's a prick, but even Jamie didn't deserve that..."

"Yeah... Yeah, that was real bad," Ted agreed, sighing. "All right, yeah, I'll tell him what's up when he's done showerin'."

"Might be awhile," Nate winced, "he was in pretty bad shape comin' off the pitch."

"Good," Beard snarled quietly, crossing his arms tighter and glaring harder at the floor.

"Right, well," Keeley cleared her throat, "remember, she's upstairs. Yeah?"

"We got it, Kee-Bee," Ted nodded, eyes shifting over Beard. "You'll have to excuse Coach Beard - he and Y/N are apparently secret best friends and he's taking this hard."

"As he should," Keeley smiled, patting Beard's shoulder. "Good call makin' him run so much."

"Thank you," he preened at the praise.

The two coaches (and Nate) remained in the office even after all the players vacated. Out of worry, Ted asked Nate to check on Roy, who reported he was still in the shower; the trio waiting patiently, letting the kitman draw out new plays for them to discuss. At long last, Roy emerged from the showers with a distinct limp, pausing at his locker to finish drying off and dressing; giving the guys just enough time to mutter their final plan of action.

"Hey, Cap'n!" Ted called happily when Roy straightened with his usual duffel in hand. "C'mere a second, would'jah, please?"

He glared through the window, sighed, then slowly limped into the doorway. "What now?" He grit, "More laps?"

"Nah, nah, nah - oh, well, speaking of, that was some real nice hustle today," he tried to compliment. "I was impressed!"

"Fuck the both of you for it, can't feel my fuckin' calves and my knee's fucked. You fuckin' satisfied?"

"Right," Ted cleared his throat, Beard's jaw clenching. "Well, uh, there's actually a reason for your... Um..."

"Punishment," Beard provided stiffly.

"Why? Because the lads went out last night?"

"Actually, kinda, yeah," Ted leaned back in his chair. "Uh, Roy, I wanna apologize for makin' you run all them laps all day, but honestly, Coach Beard and I wanted you to hurt."

"The fuck did I do!?" Roy snapped, glaring at his coaches. "Everyone's been fuckin' weird today; and now you're punishing me for some shit I don't even know - "

Ted startled when Beard jumped to his feet and rounded on the Great Roy Kent, snatching his phone off Ted's desk to shove it into his chest. "You stood her up," he growled through clenched teeth.

"What?" Roy's head shook, doing a double take at his lit phone screen; quickly scrolling through the barrage of texts and voicemails from you.

"Last night... You were supposed to meet Y/N at Bordeaux's to celebrate her promotion - but instead, you went out with the team. Any other day, we'd make you run laps for skipping out on something like that, but yesterday, it came at that sweet girl's expense. She called me, asking after you - concerned you were hurt! You left her - alone - for hours - so Coach Lasso and I met her instead."

"Any of this ringin' a bell, Roy?" Ted wondered from his desk, watching the glow of his phone shine light on Roy's growing realization.

"FUCK!" Roy bellowed, neck veins straining and bulging. Beard nodded in approval as the Captain turned and rushed as best he could out of the locker room.

"She's with The Boss in her office!" Ted called helpfully after him.

When Beard turned, his angry expression had dropped and shrugged, "We'll give him tomorrow off to make up for today."

"Yeah, I was thinkin' the same," Ted snickered. "Think they're gonna be okay?"

"Oh, yeah, they have to be," Nate nodded, "those two are made for each other. He could kill her cat and she'd be the one to comfort him."

"That's... Not healthy," Ted cocked his head.

"But the sentiment is understood," Beard ended.

Roy charged from the locker room like a man on a mission, but hesitated at the stairs leading to Rebecca's office as if it were Everest. He was determined, though, not to disappoint you again; trying to climb without bending his knees - proving damn near impossible. He was grunting with strain, panting even as his body protested to the three-stair climb he managed; but his saving grace, as usual, came in the form of you suddenly appearing at the top with Rebecca.

You barely had time to process the sight before Roy was gritting, "No, no, just listen - please, don't ignore me again. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N. I absolutely forgot about our date last night and fucked this up, hurt you, left you waiting in worry - I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, doll, please, I swear, I'll even swear on Phoebe’s head, but you gotta believe me. It's no excuse, nothing ever could be, but... My explanation is I just got so in my head and fucking forgot - "

"Well, you shouldn't've! But please, pray tell how the hell you managed to forget? Did you suddenly pick-up American football, got a concussion?" Rebecca snarled in a defensively clipped tone. "What kind of a man stands up his own girlfriend!? Forgets about a date he arranged? Forgets about her on one of the most important days of her life? I mean, just look at her! She's fuckin' fit! She's not someone that anyone should, could, or would forget!"

"I fuckin' know all that, Rebecca," Roy growled, stationed on the third stair still, "and I'm trying to fuckin' apologize to my lady - not hear a play-by-play of my colossal fuck up from my boss! I know what happened, I'm the one who did this."

As Roy grimaced in pain, hand gingerly going to rub his trick knee, Rebecca shot back, "One of the consequences of fucking up is never living it down and to be reminded and guilted for it - "

Your hand flew to Rebecca's bicep in a silent request she stop talking once you noted Roy coddling his knee. "Holy shit, are you hurt?" You interrupted in worry, sharing a guilty look with Rebecca; both aware how running effected the footballer. She nodded and pet your shoulder, letting you hustle down the stairs to meet him in order to hash out this predicament. Though she loved you, Rebecca recognized it wasn't her place to interfere with your relationship(s) "Is it your knee again? Oh, for fuck's sake, Roy - "

"Doesn't matter, what matters is my apology."

"Yes, yes, I've heard you," you snipped, glancing up at the platinum blonde woman; earning a thumbs up before she disappeared to give you a lick of privacy. "Roy... I know this sport is your fuckin' life and normally I'd never complain - but how the fuck could you forget me?"

"'Cause I'm a fuckin' arsehole."

"Well, yeah, but - "

"Like I was saying before, there's no excuse, baby," he frowned, supported by the wall behind him; you facing him on the step, leaning on the railing. "Just - yesterday went real well, right?" You nodded slowly. "The lads were hyped, it was a good day and I guess I got swept up in the energy. Issac proposed goin' out as a team without the coaches and we all just rolled with it. I fuckin' forgot I was t'meet you... And I'm so fuckin' sorry. I didn't do it on purpose, sweetheart, but that doesn't change the fact I fucked up and hurt you."

"Well, like Rebecca said, what kinda man does this sort of shit to the woman he loves?"

"A complete fucking bellend who doesn't deserve his lady."

You shrugged meekly, "Hm, I had a more colorful and vulgar term in mind, but bellend works. But you know what? At the end of the day, being angry doesn't do any good, so it's o - "

"Don't you dare say it's okay, 'cause it's fuckin' not!"

"Okay, know what? You're absolutely right, it's not okay that you stood me up! That you forgot me, forgot what yesterday meant to me; that you got swept up in the energy of a good day at my expense! In truth, having good days on the pitch is much more common than getting a promotion! Mhm, yeah," your eyes narrowed at his surprised expression, "that's right, I got the job and all I wanted to do was share it with you..."

"You got the job," he whispered, "officially? Seriously?"

"Fuck yeah, I did! Youngest female president! You were supposed to be one of the first persons I told, but now it feels like you're the last. I called and texted you all fucking night, could've at least done the decent thing and communicate with your girlfriend where you were going, date or no - "

"I left my phone in the locker and it died. Swear on Phoebe."

"Don't bring her into this, and it doesn't negate from the fact that you should've been there with me - whether you had your phone or not! I'm not saying put me above your career - I would never - but I expect you to respect me and contribute to our relationship! God, it was so mortifying just sitting there alone for 2.5 hours! It felt like everyone could tell I was being stood up - they were pitying me, Roy! I need you to be more present, Roy, I can't date myself anymore, I can't do one-sided effort; I've been as understanding and flexible as I can, but you gotta meet me halfway. But whatever, it happened, nothing can change that - we can only learn from it - but I hear your apology, so... Fuck it, it is okay; it's fine. Beard and Teddy met me, actually; we had a nice night so it wasn't a total waste."

"Should've been different," he snapped, "should've been me."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"I'm so fuckin' sorry, love. I didn't meant to hurt you - it's the last thing I ever want to do."

"Well... I saw what Coaches made you do all day," you pouted your bottom lip dramatically, "my poor Lightning McQueen."

"Fuckin' deserved it."

"You really did," you agreed, grabbing him by the leather lapels and yanking him straight; releasing a muffled grunt of discomfort. "But I think runnin' that many laps is punishment enough and made you feel as bad as I did last night. So, c'mon, I'm tired of being angry, let's just move forward and get you home to an ice bath."

"Nah, we're redoing yesterday - we're goin' out. You wearin' another matching set?"

You scoffed with a small chuckle, shaking your head, "Roy, you're in no shape to go out, let alone have sex."

"I'm in pristine fuckin' shape."

"Oh, yeah? All right, fine, we'll go out if you can just walk down these three steps - "

"Fuck off," he grit, "we're redoin' last night, no discussion."

"Fine, but we're goin' home, can cook for me if you want," you shook your head. "Don't think it'll be a very good look for either of us t'be seen in public with you like this, hey? They'll start gossiping 'bout your retirement." He growled and let you get under his arm, one arm anchoring his wrist dangling over your shoulder and the other coiled around his waist. As you attempted to conqure the stairs, you quietly encouraged with strain from his weight, "Easy, easy, there you go... A-All right, sure, I guess that's one way to get downstairs... Oi, hey, careful! C'mon, bend your fuckin' knees, Roy!"

"I fuckin' can't!"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," you laughed, "they really fucked you up today, huh?"

"'Cause they fuckin' adore you and were rightfully pissed."

"Good," you mused, now behind him on the stairs to aid his unbalance. "Though I'm unsure how to feel about my boyfriend's coaches adoring me more than my actual boyfriend."

"Oi! Don't say or ever think that bullshit. That's not ever fucking possible," Roy snapped, eyes wild and ablaze in offense, "nobody adores you more than me - I just fucked up but I'm trying to rectify it."

Once on flat ground, you remained on the first step, speaking softly, "Hey..." Roy turned to you; the height difference letting your arms wrap around his neck, his hands seizing the meat of your hips. "Please don't do that again. It was... Nothing short of humiliating sitting there alone on a date you set up."

"I know, baby," he sighed, "and I'll be apologizing even after it stops botherin' yah. I can't promise I won't fuck up again, but I'll never stand you up again, doll. I'll tattoo every fuckin' date of ours on my body if I have to."

You caressed his cheek, "Not necessary. Just don't forget me again, please. That... Really fuckin' sucked. But fútbol is life and the consolation company was top tier, so, I guess I shouldn't complain."

Roy sighed and let his head drop to your sternum, giving you a tight squeeze. "Nah, fuckin' do what Rebecca said: never let me forget what the fuck I did or let me live this down."

"You'll regret that - know I'm gonna bring it up every fight."

"Which is why we're never gonna fight again, you've already fuckin' won 'em all."

"Oh, I quite like the sound of that," you teased, fingers sliding under his jaw to perk his head up. "Hey... I forgive you."

"Don't - not just yet. Gotta let me make it up to you first. But I just need us to be good."

You shrugged, "Nah, we're good, sweetheart." You tightened your arms in an embrace, pecking the top of his head. "You know, grudges ages you and you know how serious I am about my skincare and my feelings on wrinkles. But if you wanna spoil me until your guilt lessens, I won't stop you. Just not a new car, I'm gettin' a company Mercedes."

"Good, all right, yeah, noted," he smirked, "'cause I'm gonna lay it on fuckin' thick; thicker than Tart's ego."

"Maybe worry 'bout your knees first, Casanova," you winced. Roy growled and pulled back, reaching for your hand to hold as you hopped down the step to his side. You easily wrangled his keys from his pocket, snipping, "Yeah, you're not driving - can't even bloody walk, my poor boy. I'll get you out of tomorrow, you need the rest."

"Hm," Roy growled. "What would I do without you?"

"Probably run a normal amount? Have a proper trainin' session?"

"Sounds miserably boring."

"Then what's all this, then?"

"Love," he grunted, keeping you under his arm as he shoved the facility doors open to the carpark.

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