Sometimes dreams come true: in the evening Emmett came alone. The Beauty awoke the Beast with a kiss in his ear and a question, what had happened and why the floor of the condo is scattered with glass. A couple of hours ago Ted tried to sweep it away, but felt giddy, so he took off the goetic (from the word "goetia") T-shirt, ditched it, then returned to bed and fell asleep right on the printouts of the bills.

"Well, did you see a mop in the corridor? I was learning to fly on it, but apparently something went wrong."

Emmett put his cool hand on his friend's forehead:

"Angry?"

Oh, what a beautiful and timely remark. Ted desperately welcomed the opportunity to lay the blame on Drew Boyd and keep silence about the epiphany of Blake.

"Who would not be angry! It felt as if a grand piano fell on me from a roof. Fucking Drewsie must feel happy that I did not report the attack to the police."

"Why didn't you?"

This conversation also did not arouse any desire to continue it, and Ted lapsed into gloomy silence. As Emmett observed a thousand years ago, there are things you cannot tell your boyfriend, no matter how much you love him. Damn this isolation: Blake went down Hole Street, Melanie moved to Canada, Mikey did not need being involved in all those twists and turns, and Emmett… it was unclear whether he could be deemed Ted's boyfriend, but just in case it was better to abide by the code. And according to the boyfriend code one should not tell his sweetheart about ambiguous visitors. On the bright side, you can say some other things. For example, to ask for something that always beautifies hours (days, months, years) of particularly strong existential disgust.

"Em, fuck me, please."

The friend lifted his brows.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes."

Emmett, may God bless him, made no comments and just undressed, brushed the printouts under the bed and lay down next to his friend. Ted turned over on his side and asked Emmett to be careful: it is a terribly grotesque death for two love mates — to die in the surge of passion, being pierced by a fragment of broken rib. Emmett tenderly hugged Ted from his back, kissed him on the neck and promised him to be very, very careful. 

***

Ted turned over on his back and gestured Emmett to lean on his shoulder. Emmett came over to the other side of the bed and placed his head into the groove under Ted's collarbone, that had been made by nature specifically for this purpose. 

"Can you stay?"

"Overnight? Okay."

Ted pecked his friend's nape, then lay still for a while, then disgustingly began to think. Why did Emmett decide to stay today? Because Ted shattered the lamp? Because Drew almost shattered Ted's head? Guilt or compassion? Or, maybe, desire at last? Then why had not the desire gain such intensity in the preceding month? It is hardly guilt, or else he could have stayed either yesterday or two days ago. So, it is compassion. Hello, Aunt Pity Fuck? But what if he had known that hours ago Ted had been kissing Blake in such a way, that almost paid tribute to his youth by coming before going for it? Emmett had already started to snore softly when Ted asked him in dramatic whisper:

"But you don't want to stay, do you?"

Emmett rubbed his eyes, looked at Ted and frowned.

"What made you think of this?"

"You've never stayed at my place since…"

"Ted, what do you want from me now?"

"But what do you want for yourself? Why do you always do what I want, and not you?" Ted felt disgustedly that an itch to make a scene was kindling inside him in the darkness of the night, but could not help it. The show must go on! "Why do you always pity me? Am I a monopode dog with anal epilepsy?"

"Teddy, look, if you asked me to top you just to make up for it later and fuck my brain, I will not put out. Do you want me to stand up, go away and give you the opportunity to become mad, crash furniture and pity yourself? No way. I am staying with you. And now shut up, please, and sleep." 

Ted shut up but did not fall asleep. He started to think about Emmett. All that boyfriend stuff is true for the both sides, and his best friend also completely ceased telling him about his own feelings. It's a good thing he stays at Debbie's place and discusses the goings on with her. Ted's thought jumped to the times of the Great Fall of Theodore Schmidt. Poor Em, it's a marvel he had withstood that all! Did he have any rights for his endless fuck-ups after acting like that? Did he have any right at all to lie next to Emmett in bed? Next to this amazingly wise, noble, patient and loving man, with mind and body so well-endowed. Was not it astonishing that such a fucking asshole can be so lucky to be around such a person – even as a friend with benefits?

Ted started to sniffle and tried to hug Emmett. Acute pain in his rib made him shriek. Startled, Emmett leapt up with even louder scream, accidentally striking his mate in the ear. Oh, those warm fuzzy moments! 

***

By the time Mikey came, Ted had already eaten his breakfast cooked by Emmett and fallen asleep again. His bumped brain was demonstrating a production of a porn opera. Ted was its director. In his dream, he was fulminating: "Why is there hair on your scrotum?! How the fuck did you prepare?! Nobody knows how to sing! Did they hire you through a bus advertisement? Who is drumming the scene with his balls?" Gradually he realized, that even the toughest balls cannot make such noise, and woke up.

Michael unpacked the food Debbie sent. It looked like, when recovered, Ted would have to diet himself on wholegrain crispbreads and water. And if he had sued Drew Boyd - as a matter of fact, Mel had been firmly insisting on it in a phone call ; it would have been reasonable to do so on the account of abrupt obesity. He would have won a mint of money and made another liposuction.

"How are you?" everybody asks this question several times a day. Of course, it is very pleasant, especially for the first two days, but he'd better come up with some other answer than his usual "great" — just for the sake of diversity. For some reason, nothing but "it would have been fine, but for tentacles growing from my ass" was taking into his head. Although, when your head is taken by ass tentacles, there is little hope for smooth conversation. 

"Fascinating!" The ageless classics. "Thank you, Mikey."

"And how is Emmett?"

"Emmett? This morning he went to talk to a chef. Didn't you go to Woody's together yesterday?"

"We did. Did he tell you?"

"Told me what?"

Ted braced himself for Mikey to balk, but, thankfully, that did not happen.

"Well, yesterday Drew Boyd turned up to Woody's."

Here we also need the sound of shattered glass, but this time Ted himself was warming up the lasagna, and he was using a potholder.

"And what did he want?"

"He demanded that Emmett talk to him, and Em yelled at him and tried to punch him in the face."

"Oh my God!"

"Well, we prepared to break them up, but Drew Boyd spat and walked away. And Em went to your place. We also had been planning to visit you, but he told us he wanted to be alone with you."

Fuck. So, that's what happened to Emmett yesterday. The friend needed some solace, and Ted acted as an asshole. How could be so self-centered! The hub of universe, around which galaxies are revolving. The whole world was created for one and only reason — to put Theodore Schmidt into the vortex of suffering, incessantly. Outside time, outside space, everything is happening only with him, for his sake and around him.

Mikey was saying something else, but Ted had stopped listening to him.

"To New York," his friend finished telling his story. Ted nodded, said "I see" and simulated exhaustion.

Mikey patted his friend on the back, wished him to get well soon and left. And Ted gave Emmett a call:

"Will you come over?"

"Yes, let me just order a hundred of avocado at the warehouse, and I will be free."

"Em... I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie. Do you want some avocado?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I will be glad to have whatever you bring."

"Including pant rabbits?"

"What?"

"Nothing, Teddy, I am almost at your place."

***

Ted ordered flower delivery and decorated the condo with bouquets. He warmed up the food, lit some candles and started getting annoyed by the circularity of that "almost", but then his best friend came in. And yes, the surprise did bemuse him. For quite a while Emmett was running around the condo, screaming with delight, from one vase to another, and then kissed Ted, ate a plate of carbonara, did the dishes, sat down next to his friend and slid his hand under the latter's T-shirt.

"Em, wait."

"Yes, Teddy. Your rib. I remember. How the fuck you scared me at night! If I get enuresis, it will be your fault."

Ted went silent. Damn, now they will have sex. Or they won't, if he starts to sort out their relationship again. But if he makes a habit to sort it after sex, it will be the dumbest habit on Earth. It would make anyone weep and hide in a closet as soon as he hears the word "fuck". Of course, it would be ideal just to keep silence, but in this case words will pop out at the most inappropriate moment, and it would be equal to splooging yourself during an opera intermission. All the more so, this kettle has been boiling for a month already, and soon its lid will be blown the fuck off. And if something goes wrong, this situation at least allows him to lie down and play dead. So, the time has come. 

"Em, what is going on between us, anyway? This Brian's 'Pippin and Merry are fucking again' thing? Or…"

"Did Brian say 'Gollum and… Melanie'?"

"May it be even Glorfindel and a regiment of Uruk-hais," Ted sighed. "You are the bravest and the most honest person I know. Answer just one question for me: what are you afraid of?"

Ask this question and jump out of the window immediately for not hearing the answer. It is very dramatic. Bang!

"Teddy, please, let us not discuss it. These pretty peonies, dinner, your hair has started to grow at last and you do not look like a thug anymore... Although, with your nose smashed you still look like one. But… it makes you very masculine!"

This is your last opportunity to shut up. But this damned kettle is already whistling as a devil.

"Are you afraid that I may go into a tailspin again?"

Emmett sulked and tried to move over, but Ted hugged him and pressed his forehead to Emmett's temple.

"I do not know, Ted. In that period, I've been thinking a lot, what I had done wrong."

"What you had done wrong?!" Ted raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked into his friend's eyes. 

"What had I been able to say and do for not letting all that happen to you."

"Em, you had been unable to help that. Maybe, an exorcist…"

"That is it, Teddy. I had been thinking about that a lot and understood that there had been nothing I could have done or told. And this is what scares me most of all."

"That will never, never, never happen again."

"Even so, something else may happen."

"Anything may happen to anybody."

Ted could have reminded his friend about lovers who suddenly cheat with women, turn out to be hustlers, run away from rehab, leaving behind a fucking CD, die into a plane toilet (it would make for a hell of a weekend — to do all that at once) and a thousand of similar things. Certainly, none of that can beat drug frenzy with orgies and stealing from friends. Although, no, the death in the toilet tops even this. Anyhow, Ted mentioned nothing of that, because he did not want to upset his friend anymore. Instead he kissed Emmett and repeated:

"Anything can happen to anybody, Em. But at least until it happens we will be together. And I will do my best for you to be much happier with me, than without me."

"I am always much happier with you than without you, Teddy."

Ted took his friend's hand and kissed it.

"Then drop your pants and give me your fabulous bubble butt! I have to practice."

"Yes, sir!"

Kissing Emmett here and there, Ted thought: "Thank you, dear Drew Boyd! Who knows what would have happened, if it had not been for your foul fists. And now go and fuck yourself". It is surprising, how happy someone may be with a concussion, nasal septum dislocation and... eeeyouch, fuck, fuck, fuck that goddamn rib!!!

TBC