Ted Lasso (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theodorelasso) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trashchildren2021-06-24 07:33 pm
theodorelasso) wrote in trashchildren2021-06-24 07:33 pm
Sherlock raises his eyebrows, tapping his fingers against his lips, trying to think of a way to be tactful. It isn'this forte.
"It's...an incredible likeness," he allows.
"It's...an incredible likeness," he allows.
Ted grins brightly, satisfied with that answer. (If he was going to guess what Sherlock's reaction would be, it's actually better than he would've expected.)
"Thanks, we spent a while on it," he answers cheerfully, getting back into bed. "Alright, well, don't let us keep you if you want to get back to work."
"Thanks, we spent a while on it," he answers cheerfully, getting back into bed. "Alright, well, don't let us keep you if you want to get back to work."
While Sherlock has grown considerably in the time Watson has been in his life, there are still people he makes exceptions for when it comes to the harshness of his manner. Usually it is due to respect for their intelligence and investigative abilities. But Ted...Ted is different. Sherlock is a cynical man, and yet somehow Ted's kindness and generosity of spirit make him actually believe in the potential for goodness, in others, yes, but more remarkably in himself. Ted makes him want to be kind.
"Again, call if you need anything," Sherlock says. He nods to Joan, who nods back, then leaves the room.
Joan reaches over for her tea and carefully sips it. "Mmm. Mint."
"Again, call if you need anything," Sherlock says. He nods to Joan, who nods back, then leaves the room.
Joan reaches over for her tea and carefully sips it. "Mmm. Mint."
Ted would be touched to hear that. It probably helps that his kindness doesn't come from naivety or foolishness. It's a very conscious choice, and something he's incredibly dedicated to, despite all the cruelty in the world. Being kind doesn't require being blind.
"Mint's great, but why does it have to come with tea?" he says playfully, carefully reaching for his coffee.
"Mint's great, but why does it have to come with tea?" he says playfully, carefully reaching for his coffee.
"It is the tea," she points out, fully aware he's teasing her. "Not all tea is created equal. There are traditional Chinese teas that have been scientifically proven to boost immunity, lower blood pressure, and give longer erections."
He's right in the middle of taking a sip when she says that last bit, and chokes a little on the coffee. It's so well timed he suspects it's intentional.
"Mmm, really?" he then asks with polite but only mild interest, as if he didn't just choke, then smiles playfully.
"Mmm, really?" he then asks with polite but only mild interest, as if he didn't just choke, then smiles playfully.
It was absolutely intentional, and Joan grins with amusement as Ted sputters.
"Oh yeah. Better than Viagra. Cheaper too."
She leans in to give him a quick kiss, almost an apology for making him choke like that.
"Oh yeah. Better than Viagra. Cheaper too."
She leans in to give him a quick kiss, almost an apology for making him choke like that.
"Yeah alright, good to know." Ted side-eyes her with a smile. He has to appreciate the skill of the timing of the prank, at the very least. (And as long as she doesn't intentionally try to embarrass him in front of other people, he is a-ok with it. But he knows she wouldn't do that.) And hey, he was the one who started teasing. It's only fair.
She smiles at that side-eye, the lift of her lips all innocent, but her eyes sparkling with mischief. She takes another sip of her tea.
"What's your favorite drink?" she asks him.
"What's your favorite drink?" she asks him.
He loves her so much. She looks like a cat about to cause havoc, and he adores it.
He rests his mug in his lap as he considers that unexpected question for a moment. "Alcoholic or not?" he asks for clarification.
He rests his mug in his lap as he considers that unexpected question for a moment. "Alcoholic or not?" he asks for clarification.
"Either," she says with a smile. "Or both! Your favorite alcoholic drink and your favorite non-alcoholic drink."
"Well, for the former it's just gonna be a glass of a really good whiskey, nice and simple," he answers, that part at least easy enough. "For non-alcoholic, there's a lot more competition. Lot of good coffees, you know, like a peppermint latte or a hazelnut mocha, when you need that boost in the morning. Or, I love a nice cold glass of coke, drop a slice of lemon in there? Ooh! Or a really good sports mix, like what Nate makes. Mmm! Lotta good options. What about you?"
Edited 2021-10-01 01:41 (UTC)
"Mmm. Alcohol-wise, I'd have to go with a really nice red. The kind that pairs perfectly with a perfect meal. Non-alcoholic...well. I like jasmine tea." She smiles, fully anticipating Ted's negative reaction. "And I like coffee, too. Soy milk lattes." Her smile turns wistful. "Even now."
He nods in agreement with a nice red, as he very much enjoys that too. He limits his negative reaction to a sort of 'meh' face and a shrug. He doesn't want to diss something she really enjoys. (And he hasn't tried jasmine tea. Maybe it's super different. Who knows.)
"Even now?" he asks curiously, wondering what that story was.
"Even now?" he asks curiously, wondering what that story was.
"Andrew," she says softly. "The poison was in my soy milk latte and he got it mixed up with his and took a sip." She probably hasn't told him that specific detail.
"Right.." he answers softly, reaching out to take her hand for a moment and give it a comforting squeeze. He knew it was a drink, but not that specific one, and didn't make the connection immediately.
He does get why Joan thinks that by dating someone, she automatically puts them in harms way. He wishes she wouldn't have to feel guilty about that. Mourning is bad enough.
"Yeah, I still can't drink Coors," he comments softly.
He does get why Joan thinks that by dating someone, she automatically puts them in harms way. He wishes she wouldn't have to feel guilty about that. Mourning is bad enough.
"Yeah, I still can't drink Coors," he comments softly.
She's been working on putting that idea out of her mind, because the thought itself could poison their relationship. He wants to be with her, and they love each other. She truly believes they belong together, and she knows that any potential threat they might face they will face together.
She frowns faintly, squeezing his hand. She doesn't remember him saying anything about not being able to drink a certain beer.
"Why Coors?" she asks softly.
She frowns faintly, squeezing his hand. She doesn't remember him saying anything about not being able to drink a certain beer.
"Why Coors?" she asks softly.
"It was the first thing I drank after my dad died," he explains. "Still kind of... tastes like sadness, you know?"
And he was 16 at the time, which he knows he's told her, so clearly he wasn't that used to drinking beer in general yet. It wasn't the first time, but even so.
And he was 16 at the time, which he knows he's told her, so clearly he wasn't that used to drinking beer in general yet. It wasn't the first time, but even so.
She squeezes his hand again. "I'm sorry," she says softly. Him drinking a beer right after his dad died feels odd, and she realizes that she knows very little about his dad. Especially about how Ted lost him.
"How did he die?" she asks gently.
"How did he die?" she asks gently.
He smiles gratefully at her comfort, squeezing her hand back.
He considers telling her. She should know. At some point. But they've already talked so much about death of loved ones, and it keeps interrupting lovely times they're having, and he knows he can't just throw it out there and move on. And talking about it gives him this knot in his stomach that he just... doesn't want to try to deal with right now. It still makes him angry.
"I don't want to talk about it," he answers quietly, but he gives her an apologetic smile to know she hasn't overstepped or anything. But there's obviously still a lot of pain there, even thirty years later.
He considers telling her. She should know. At some point. But they've already talked so much about death of loved ones, and it keeps interrupting lovely times they're having, and he knows he can't just throw it out there and move on. And talking about it gives him this knot in his stomach that he just... doesn't want to try to deal with right now. It still makes him angry.
"I don't want to talk about it," he answers quietly, but he gives her an apologetic smile to know she hasn't overstepped or anything. But there's obviously still a lot of pain there, even thirty years later.
Joan is now certain it wasn't something simple like cancer or a heart attack. She'd be willing to bet there's some blame involved, some anger, both things Ted has a tendency to try to swallow. Was his dad murdered? Did he overdose? Did he get into a car crash while driving drunk? Did Ted somehow have some part in it?
But she's not going to push. She squeezes his hand and gives him a small nod. "Okay."
But she's not going to push. She squeezes his hand and gives him a small nod. "Okay."
He lets go of her hand, but only so he can wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her a little closer, kissing the side of her head. He takes a breath and breathes a deep sigh through his nose, trying to let the worry and the sadness drain out of him before it gets any worse.
"What's Sherlock's favorite drink, do you know?" he asks curiously, going back to what they were talking about. "Non-alcoholic, obviously," he adds.
"What's Sherlock's favorite drink, do you know?" he asks curiously, going back to what they were talking about. "Non-alcoholic, obviously," he adds.
She snuggles against him and lifts her head to kiss his cheek. She can tell the thought of how his father died upsets him, which both makes her curious and makes her feel for him. It can't be easy to hold a secret like this, especially from those who love him.
She smiles at the question. "Well. You know Sherlock is a man of simple tastes. He takes his coffee black. He's British, so he likes tea." Her smile widens playfully. "He also drinks the Chinese herbal tea I was telling you about."
She smiles at the question. "Well. You know Sherlock is a man of simple tastes. He takes his coffee black. He's British, so he likes tea." Her smile widens playfully. "He also drinks the Chinese herbal tea I was telling you about."
It's not a secret, exactly. His sexuality, sure, that's a secret. Would he be upset if Joan found out about his dad through other means? Or others did? Only if they insisted on discussing it with him. Secret, to him, implies he wants to hide it. He's not ashamed of it. It's just not something he wants to think about.
He nods with interest at her answer, although at the last part he huffs a laugh. "Now that I really don't want to know," he answers with a chuckle. Though knowing about his sex life bothers him less than Sherlock knowing about Ted's. He's used to locker room talk. He's heard a lot.
He nods with interest at her answer, although at the last part he huffs a laugh. "Now that I really don't want to know," he answers with a chuckle. Though knowing about his sex life bothers him less than Sherlock knowing about Ted's. He's used to locker room talk. He's heard a lot.
The idea of investigating Ted's dad's death has occurred to Joan. Whatever she found, she wouldn't force Ted to talk about it, but it might help to know where he's coming from, what trauma he's dealing with. It might be helpful for Joan to know where his triggers might lie.
She'll think about it more later. For the moment she grins, that mischievous look in her eyes again.
"Oh he doesn't drink it for that. Well...not that I know of. I introduced it to him when he came down with a terrible cold once. He was so sick, and still insisted on investigating a case. He was skeptical of the tea at first, but it helped him feel better. Now when I see him drinking it I know he's feeling a little under the weather." Her lips quirk playfully. "Or he's got plans with his 'exercise partners.'"
She'll think about it more later. For the moment she grins, that mischievous look in her eyes again.
"Oh he doesn't drink it for that. Well...not that I know of. I introduced it to him when he came down with a terrible cold once. He was so sick, and still insisted on investigating a case. He was skeptical of the tea at first, but it helped him feel better. Now when I see him drinking it I know he's feeling a little under the weather." Her lips quirk playfully. "Or he's got plans with his 'exercise partners.'"
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