However, Ted did not sleep properly that night, but at least in the morning he was still under impression of yesterday's events and it did not let him rape his unlucky intellect again. He managed to have a square breakfast and express his gratitude towards his mate by a masterpiece of oral art (and no, it was not one and the same activity) and even to have an hours-long small talk with him in the new bed.

But no sooner than that evening, Ted buried himself into paperwork as soon as he got home. He was at it until the alarm rang in the morning and then went to work.

At night he got to bed, slept for a couple of hours, tossed and tumbled for a couple more, and then took his laptop and finished yesterday's work. He passed out on his office couch, and even Brian did not wake him. Then he was rechecking bills till nightfall. Emmett came now and then, trying to threaten and blackmail him into eating. On Friday, won over by Mike's fast talk, Ted went to Woody's and committed there an act of inconceivable blasphemy: opened his laptop and spent three hours drawing up an agreement. Next, he decided that the bar was too noisy, went home, and wrote a report.

Saturday there was test phone call from Emmett: "What are you up to, honey? Oh, working? Fabulous! At home or at the office? I see! And will you eat? No? Great! When did you eat last time? You do not remember? Brilliant!”

Ted had no wish at all to think about Emmett now, his mind was elsewhere. Therefore he hung up and forgot about this call at once. And in the evening a lock clicked - and voila! On the doorstep Emmett appeared accompanied by - whom, do you think? - good old Blakie.

"What the fuck is that?" Ted inquired. Frankly speaking, after working the clock round he could not bet he was not hallucinating.

"Teddy," said Em. "You told me a week ago that you had a few little problems. Well, they are bigger than you think."

"Look. Did you come to screw my brains out? Sorry, they are occupied with far more important things," said Ted, staring back to his screen. "So, you may as well fuck off!"

Emmett gave such a scream, that was likely to have made the whole neighborhood quiver.

"Did you just tell me to fuck off!!? You did not!!! This fucking reminds me of something! Do you want me to throw this laptop out of the window?! Now fucking look at me! If. Once again. In your fucking life. You. Tell. Me. To. Fuck. Off. No fucking letter will ever help you, muffhead."

Ted gradually started to protrude into reality and focus on it. Stop-stop-stop. What is going on? He leapt to his beloved, hugged him and started to heap him with kisses and excuses. Emmett grabbed Ted by his shoulders and made him return to the couch:

"Take a seat and listen."

"Why did you bring Blake here?"

"If it had not been for Blake, we would not have had this conversation. He somehow managed to pluck you when nobody else was able. So, my great thanks to Blake, and may he talk to you. I am out to get some groceries, will be back in couple of hours. I do not care a fuck, what you two will be doing here - talk, have sex, stage a Bernard Show, but I hope that when I return, you will have stopped this fuckistry. And that you will eat and go to bed, as a normal person."

Emmett left with a bang. Ted reached for his laptop, but Blake caught his hand and shook head.

"Fine, Dr. Wyzecki", said Ted sarcastically. "Shall we discuss my relationship with my mother?"

"No, Teddy. Your relationship with your mother you will discuss with your therapist. And, by the way, I will give you a couple of contacts. I am here as a friend."

"What kind of a friend are you, pray?"

"The only kind I can be. So it goes, that I am only a mediocre friend. Far from Emmett. We both know, how he feels about me, but anyway he found me and brought me here."

Ted tried to stop the flow of numbers in his head. He had been cliff-hung, interrupted that very moment when everything was about to add up as it should have. The chaos of numbers had been forming a perfectly predictable line. It had been that very moment in a couple of frictions from orgasm.

And then, like a bolt from the blue, there was a question:

"So, Teddy. Why have you been in such a pain in recent weeks?"

The first wave: to usher Blake out and finish the work. The second wave: did he say "pain"? Why that word, of all others? Now he is feeling no pain at all, his brain is too busy for that. The third wave: oh, my God… And that third wave washed away all the numbers.

"Ted," said Blake quietly, "you cannot spend all your life killing yourself with guilt. Rather, you can, of course, but it will be a very short and unpleasant life."

"Probably, I deserve it?" said Ted angrily, fuck-off-style.

"A short and unpleasant life? Me too, don't you think?"

Ted stared at his ex-partner, with whom he once had so many ties. Light kind eyes. Heartwarming half-smile. God, this is Blakie! Ted wanted to hug him, draw him closer and stroke his hair, as if he was a child.

"Of course, no! I mean, I can be angry at you, but always wished you nothing but happiness."

"And what is the difference then?"

Ted was quiet.

"If you try to unwind this ball of yarn, where will it lead you? You got hooked on drugs, because you had miscalculated with that assistant lad and lost your business. But why did you decide that it was only you to blame? That you can foresee anything? Can anyone foresee anything? Let us wind further backwards. You were sacked after so many years of employment - and again just because you made a small normal human mistake. You had no luck with men. Including myself. Your first flame smashed your nose. You entered financial education, and not musical, because you obeyed your mother  - and again it is you to blame. What comes next? School? Your father? Why do you always accumulate all this guilt and allow it to kill you?"

"You psychologists say we ourselves bear responsibility for our lives."

"Do bear it, Teddy. Why are you dragged along and buried by that guilt like by an avalanche?"

"And what can I do?"

Blake smiled and looked at Ted with all the warmth that can be focused in the stare of a human being.

"What about having some compassion for yourself?"

Compassion for himself? Was he serious?

"Everybody says that I have too much compassion for myself."

"They do not see the burden you are carrying. Come to me. Do not worry, I will not behave like a fuckhead."

"The burden you are carrying." "Compassion for yourself." "Why are you in so much pain in recent weeks?"

And then, under Blake's look, Ted felt all that. In how much pain he was – and not only in recent weeks. How big his burden was. How badly he needed some real, drama-free compassion for himself.

Ted hugged Blake's knees and burst out sobbing.

He was beweeping his lousy childhood, when his radio set was his best friend. And not having time to get to know his dad properly. And the fact that he and his sister always could not stand each other. And stupid studies. And his first love, never appreciated. And buried dreams of stage career. And unrequited feelings towards Mikey. And work at Wertchafter's. And the porn site. And his faith into the safety of the world - the faith that never was strong, but totally crumbled during his trial and never came back. And the reputation of a man who could always be trusted. And that time when everybody turned away from him, even he himself. And that horrendous pain he inflicted on Emmett. And Melanie's departure. And their break-up with Blake. Ted was weeping and weeping, and feeling that his tears were layer by layer removing at least a small part of that dreadful acute pain, from which he so bitterly tried to shut away or escape. And Blake was silently stroking his hair.

When Emmett returned, Ted was hiccupping with tears. Blake patted his shoulder and left.

"My God, honey, how badly you are crying," the mate whispered, cuddling Ted. "I love you. All is well."

"Forgive me, Em."

"I forgave everything long ago. You need not try to deserve it, you see? I just love you, that's all."

Ted blew his nose and drank some water. And then at last he slept all night long.

***

In the morning he and Emmett went to look for a kitchen. Ted was insisting on Provence style, with wooden lattices and all but carved flowers, and Emmett was pressing for black and grey high-tech. Okay, let it be Provence, the coziest patterns are these ones. But if so, Emmett is paying. Why, if the house belongs to Ted? Give it a fucking rest already!

No, they did not have a row, but neither bought a kitchen. On the bright side, they chose dark violet couch, two chairs and a hip coffee table. Let this sombre stuff be paid by Ted himself, and Emmett will give him a fuschia carpet, because there must be a bright spot in the interior.

They ordered delivery of the furniture and, miracle of miracles, went to Babylon. "Lo and behold, our merry junkie again achieved self-victory through love!" joked Brian amicably and patted Ted's shoulder. "The Sialic account papers have to be on my desk at 9 a.m. tomorrow." Emmett told Brian to fuck off, and the latter gladly followed the advice by going to the restroom. "He will get his agreement by noon," said Em in the cold, firm voice of Agent Honeycutt. Ted felt his knees shake and asked his beloved to come home with him.

Well, they did not make it till home, but there was a reason for human kind to invent car sex.

***

For all that, they bought a kitchen a la Provence, as Emmett always dreamt. He took care of the curtains and, all right, picked up the tile. They could have hired a pro, but it is better to let the magic fairy to entertain himself. And tickets to Florence were bought - and waiting.

Ted picked up the friend and took him to the new house to discuss things: kitchen color scheme, their journey, the curtains, housewarming party and so on. And still, damn, the situation went off course: Emmett got angry.

"Teddy, I, probably look like an idiot, but…"

"What? You do not look like an idiot."

"Seriously? But why then do you act as if I am an idiot?"

"I am acting as if you are an idiot?" Ted was terribly shocked.

"Why the fuck did you order this kitchen if I asked you not to do it?"

"Well, I can cancel the order."

"Teddy, I see all along, what you are driving at. Today I am your boyfriend, tomorrow I will move into your house…"

"Tomorrow, even I will not move into my house, half of rooms here needs reflooring."

"Let me finish my phrase! I will move into your house, and then you will propose me."

Good gracious. Well, as a matter of fact, it was odd to not expect that agent Honeycutt would crack this wily and artful plan.

"I can spare you this."

"Of course, you will look at me by those huge puppy-dog eyes of yours, and they will say: 'I so badly want to see you in bridal veil and white gown, Em! But I'm afraid that you will turn me down, so I will silently muffer.""

"Mu-mu-muffer?"

"It's like suffer, but… muffer."

Ted sighed.

"And then, in my quest for clean socks, I will find the ring in a drawer. And I will say, like: 'Wow, from Tiffany.'"

"I did know, that you want Tiffany!"

"So, you have bought the ring already?"

"Well… In Paris, when I was waiting you to return from the sex shop..."

"God… So, Ted. This all is incorrect."

"You are thumbs down to gay marriages now?"

"Look, when all your life slumped into a slit and you narrowly escaped jail, I was trying to support you. It was not a problem for me. But, fuck knows, why, it was a problem for you! A huge one! And now I told you a hundred times: let me buy the kitchen, let me pay for the next trip, let me at least buy shorts for myself – but no! Because it is you who is a man here, you put up a purse, you work, you call all shots, and I am this nice, sweet little wife, I twitter and flitter. And now you take me to Europe and at any cash register you pop in your damned card, giving me no chance to open my mouth. Ask ladies' menu for me at restaurants, buy a ring for me…"

"There is no ring."

"What do you mean, no ring? Seriously?"

"Oh, God, Em! It is in my office, in the stationery box."

"You buy a house for us and ask me to feather this nest at your expense. And you are ruining yourself to raise the money. As well, you tiptoe around me, as if I am a rotten egg: 'What's gonna happen if I call him my partner?' Yes, I caught your stare at the hospital. 'If I tell him straight that I want him to choose the fucking mattress because he will sleep on it, he will burst into tears and run away' – right? Ted, do you think I am a youthful virgin?"

"Emmett, you must have forgotten, but as soon as we met I told you that I am gay. And it would have been odd to regard you a virgin after I banged your ass so many times."

"Just in case, I also banged your ass."

"Ooooooooooh. And that was really, really cool."

"To sum up, Ted, you have told me that anything can happen to anybody. And I want to be sure that if you again end up with a bare ass, midlife crisis or some other bollocks, you will accept my help without mindfucking. As an equal partner. Never again. I want to be Mrs. Ted Schmidt, do you understand?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"So then…"

Emmett kneeled on one knee and produced a small box from his pocket.

"Theodore Schmidt, will you marry me?"

For some moments Ted was staring at Emmett, blinking, with his mouth hanging open, and then burst into sobs.

"Do not cry, baby!" he told his old friend, cuddling him. "I do not insist on you wearing the veil. A boutonnière will be more than enough."