"I'll get your clothes," he says, and gives her a quick kiss before getting out of bed and grabbing the bathrobe. "And my clothes too, for that matter," he adds with a smile. "I'll probably stop by my apartment and grab some more stuff."
Ted goes to pick up her clothes, then pauses as he sees that's clearly a jersey, and he holds it out to see what it is. Then he gives Sherlock a look of entirely unconvincing exasperated disapproval, though it gets replaced by an amused smile almost immediately.
He heads back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to go topless, as this was the only thing Sherlock brought back," he says, holding up the jersey.
Sherlock lifts an eyebrow at Ted's clearly teasing disapproval, smiling a little to himself as he refocuses his attention on his laptop.
Joan laughs and rolls her eyes when Ted shows her the jersey. "Oh please. Joe Namath is gold. He led the Jets to a Super Bowl championship in 1969. And he's my dad's favorite player."
"Yeah, and what have they been doing since then, huh?" Ted asks, playfully antagonistic and teasing. "Very next year, who won then? That's right, KC Chiefs, that's who," he says, grinning and holding up his own Kansas City t-shirt (that isn't sports related, but still gets the point across). "Then who won last year, huh? The Chiefs, baby!"
She laughs, her smile wide and fond. "You're cute when you're bragging about your team," she says. "I'll grant you that the Chiefs are a better team. Joe Namath is still a legend."
Her smile widens.
"But get me a Chief's jersey and I'll gladly wear it. Occasionally."
She kisses him back as enthusiastically as she can. She loves how happy this makes him. Football and Kansas City both mean so much to him, so they mean a lot to her, too.
"Two-time MVP," she agrees, taking the jersey. "Help me put it on?"
Ted nods, grabbing the jersey and finding the right holes for her to put her arms through, then her head. Then he grabs her underwear, and helps her on with that as well. "You know, I'm much more used to taking this off than putting it on," he jokes with a smile.
Joan shifts and moves to help out as much as possible. She smiles at his quip. "I'm looking forward to getting back to that," she says, her expression playfully sultry. She enjoys their sex life. It's also part of the normal she's wanting to get back to.
Ted smiles, almost shy-looking in the face of her sultriness, but still very much part of the flirting. "Well, when we do, keep in mind that if you want to just lie back and relax, I am more than happy to pick up the slack," he points out, almost cheeky.
"Mmm...that sounds nice," she says with a smile. She raises her eyebrows suggestively. "Maybe we can do that a little sooner."
Not at that very moment, of course, since he needs to go and she needs to rest, but she wouldn't exactly object that evening or perhaps sometime tomorrow.
Ted grins and nods, then goes to sit next to her to kiss her. He has to rein himself in a little to make sure it's not the kind of kiss where they get carried away, because yes, he needs to go before the team finishes for the day. If they're going to do that, he definitely wants to take their time with it.
The kiss is definitely sexually charged, and Joan pulls back at the same time Ted does, knowing that if the kiss were to continue they might not be able to stop. She smiles at him, her pupils wide, her cheeks pink, and her breath just a little heavier.
Ted sighs. "The truth. As Roy put it, just with more swear words," he says with a soft smile. "But I also want to reassure them that what Rupert tried to do failed. That I'm still there for them, whether Rupert likes it or not."
He won't pretend that this hasn't shaken him, that there hasn't been moments where he's doubted when or even if he would return to coaching them. But he knows it's worth it, even if it's hard.
"Yup. Stopping by the apartment to grab some stuff too, but I won't be too long," he answers. He's using both crutches now too, to make sure he doesn't do too much careless walking on his cast.
"Alright, have fun. Or sit next to her while she sleeps, whichever one ends up happening," he says with a chuckle, heading out.
When he gets to the club, the team are still out on the field pitch. And, he realizes as he heads to the door, Marcus and Lloyd are waiting outside. Presumably for the team, but they perk up considerably when they see him.
For once, Ted actually excuses himself that he can't really talk about all that yet, but that he'll be sure to invite them when he is ready to answer questions.
Sherlock enters Watson's room and sits on the bed, his back against the wall and his legs stretched in front of him. He and Watson chat a little, about a case Sherlock has been following and some fascinating things he had just discovered about the peculiar practice of self-mummification once pursued by a few Buddhist monks.
The conversation is full of their usual sarcasm and snark, their own form of intellectual flirtation, and Joan enjoys it immensely. Still, she's tired, and eventually she begins to drift off. Sherlock lets her, falling silent, turning back to his computer.
Ted's waiting in the locker room when the team get there. They all seem both surprised and relieved to see him - no doubt Beard has made sure to let them know that him and Joan were home and doing alright, but it's nothing compared to actually seeing him.
They react about as well as expected. There's some threats of violence against Rupert. Several well-meaning but misguided encouragements - most of these kids aren't necessarily intellectual giants, but their hearts are in the right place. They show a lot of faith in him, which simultaneously makes him feel valued, and also makes him nervous about actually coming back.
Once again it leaves him feeling supported, but also emotionally exhausted.
He promises Beard he'll let him know when he can come over for a visit, and heads to the apartment to pick up some things. Mostly clothes, since he's already got his phone and his laptop. He also makes sure to grab a small 'BELIEVE' sign to hang in 221A.
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