Actually, not many people wish to be punched in the face by Drew Boyd. Well, certainly, such people do exist, but Ted, albeit all his masochistic inclinations, was not interested at all in being punched in the mug by Drew Boyd. And he was feeling highly uncomfortable when he was sprawling behind Debbie's overturned couch and looking for a way to pick up his brain from the floor. Just in case, Ted multiplied two three-digit numbers in his mind, and then he started to scrutinize the goings-on. Firstly, Emmett was yelling. The subject of his yelps was amazingly convoluted. Actually, whatever Em did recently seemed amazing to Ted, and the yelps hardly could be an exclusion. Secondly, Drew Boyd kept silent, but judging by the angry panting, he was somewhere in the proximity.
It probably would make sense to play dead. No doubt, this is how Ted would have certainly acted, if it had not been for the possible need to save Emmett. Supposedly, there was no threat to the safety of the magic fairy from the side of Drew Boyd, since the Perky Kickoff, but who knows. At any rate, just now the nervous falsetto uttered between the cobwebs of frantic curses the following dangerous words: "I love, I loved, and I will love."
Of course that was very inspiring, and so, with blood dripping from his nose, the mighty and heroic white knight Theodore started to crawl on all fours from behind the couch.
Actually, the goings on could hardly have been avoided. The clash of titans (damn, of course not that, but the clash of a titan and an accountant) had been woven by The Three Fates in the depths of unrecorded time. Ted had not expected it to take place that very day, but scarcely any signs had been implied. Like, first a Drew Boyd poster falls on you, and then Drew Boyd in the flesh. So, it was just another day in a row, no more appropriate than any other, for being buried behind a couch.
Everything was great at the start. Ted went to Debbie's to pick up his friend for a romantic supper and said he'd booked a table at a restaurant. Emmett answered that home was good enough for a romantic supper. Ted balked for a little while and then cancelled the reservation.
"How handsome you are, my beloved! Your eyes are like sapphires under your gorgeous forehead; especially from this perspective: when you are kneeling in front of me and look at me from below, unzipping my pants. Your lips are like a pink ribbon, and as for your teeth, I will not think of them now."
Ted's rather liberal interpretation of the "Song of Songs" was interrupted by a knock at the door. And it was persistent: ignorable at first, but then it turned into such a violent rumble that Emmett went to open the door. And how wrong he was to do so! Ted zipped up his pants just in time to be punched in the nose and fall. Or rather, no, to perform an incredibly spectacular flight over the couch and to hit the floor by his nape behind it. And, actually, his fate had been kind to him, because tumbling behind a couch with your pants down is much more awkward.
This damned couch soon will have been examined from all possible perspectives: Drew Boyd broke away from his ex-boyfriend's arms and kicked Ted in his ribs. The knightly emprise was nipped in the bud.
After that, it looked like Drew Boyd got bored and left, naturally resolving the dubious situation. His prostrated adversary was taking part in it as just a relatively inanimate object, unable to say anything for sure.
***
They decided to keep Ted in the hospital for several days. They set his nose and checked his head. They found a light brain concussion - not much of a surprise, really, for it had been a long time since peace and quiet had paid their last visit to his brain case. A rib was broken. All in all, he had got off relatively easy - for a headlong collision with a tank. Emmett was spoon-feeding the sufferer, the sufferer was sulking cozily and getting a kiss for every spoonful. That is what Michael and Brian found them doing.
"Is it my imagination, or are Pippin and Merry fucking again?" Brian asked in his special-purpose high fruity voice meant for creation of distinct atmosphere of unanimous disgust. "Or rather, Pippin and Gollum?”
"Melian and Gollum," Ted corrected[i].
"Is that right, guys?" Mikey asked with joyful amazement, turning around from the flowers he was arranging on the bedside chest.
Ted murmured something incomprehensible and gave a questioning look to Emmett.
"Who is that guy Melian?" the latter asked.
"In any dubious situation it is recommended to slip into coma," Ted thought.
Everything was kinda sophisticated. Ted hardly had expected Emmett to move in with all his belongings immediately after their boisterous reunion, but nevertheless he was discouraged. That new house had been shown to his friend (damn, he and Brian have such birdy mating habits), and the latter had approved the idea of the move, curiously scrutinized small thicket of rhododendron and promised to help with packing stuff into boxes.
Ted asked him to take care of interior design. Emmett agreed gladly and offered a subdued combination of gray and beige colors. Ted elaborated that he wanted something more orgiastic, purple, peach or even, bless us, magenta, but his best friend was skeptical about that and replied that in such a house Teddy would feel out of place. Basically, he returned all punts and ignored all hints. Only one thing remained — to ask a direct question, but who wants to put a loved one in an awkward situation. Certainly, this explanation was meant for inducing self-affection: in reality, Ted did not want to complicate everything by an imminent rejection and to spoil gorgeous sex.
"How are you?" Michael asked in his special kind voice meant for warming the cold and curing the sick.
"Just fine," Ted answered with a smile of a man who is dying amongst his nearest and dearest but trying to look cheerful.
Mikey really was a splendid person. He understood at once that the topic of hobbit sex needed to be left alone.
"But on earth what happened? Mom said you were beaten up!"
"I was indeed. I was cleaning a trout, and suddenly it slipped out of my hands and almost bit my nose off. Do you see the bandage? Em tried to kill the bloody wretch with a frying pan, but missed it…"
"Will you file a complaint?"
"About the trout? I do not think it makes sense: while I was lying here, the fish certainly became foul."
When a valiant knight is in torment because of his wounds, he does not plead: "Oh, jail those naughty enemies!" He silently and stoically stuffs himself with jelly and secretly hopes that after the battle his fair armor-bearer will think to show out the noble lordships of his comrades and give him head.
Mikey patted Ted's shoulder, Brian opened his mouth with stylish laziness - he wanted to say something, and it is great that we will never know what, - but then something horrible happened. Someone had used secret runes to inscribe the blackest of the curses, and an elf clad in a turquoise cloak entered the tent noiselessly. Fuck Brian with his fantasy associations! Simply put, Emmett almost dropped the jelly on Ted, and Ted jumped in his bed: because suddenly Blake entered the ward.
With polite "We will come over later", Mikey dragged Brian outside. Emmett quizzically lifted his brows, Ted grabbed Emmett's hand and asked Blake: "How did you find out that I was here?"
"Do you remember I told you I would do my residency training in clinical psychology here? I saw your name and came to see what was up."
"Ah, right, the residency… What was up… Well...You know, I tried to fuck a BDSM mannequin, it fell on me, buried me under itself, and…"
Blake smiled gently.
"How are you?"
That damned kind and sad voice. Soft, pleasant, deep, calming. That damned stare. Understanding, nurturing, tender. Ted's voice quivered.
"All is well, Blake. I am all right. Could you please leave me with my partner?"
Uh-oh, the P-word has been uttered. Sirens are wailing, flappers are flapping, squad cars are walloping to the ditch. Getaways started to pop up in Ted's head. Firstly, he can tell Emmett he used the word partner to get rid of Blake. Although, if his friend himself considers the two of them partners, an embarrassing situation can be created by such a claim. Secondly, he can keep silence, but then Em will keep silence too, adding up to the hideous understatement by which Ted has already been fed to teeth. And also Em may decide Ted wanted to make Blake jealous - and, dammit, there will be a grain of truth. Ted cast a glance at Emmett, but the latter's face did not express anything worth of panic.
"I only wanted to tell…" Blake started, but then Em opened his tantalizing mouth and said firmly,
"Take a walk down Hole Street."
Blake smiled with his moving tender smile - and left.
"Open your mouth, sweetie!" Em said and brought a spoonful of jelly to Ted's lips.
Ted obediently licked the spoon, hugged his friend's waist and nuzzled the top of his head into his friend's side.
***
Next day, the friends drove the wounded comrade home. While Emmett in the kitchen was warming up lasagna brought by Debbie, Ted was habitually descending into the bottomless abyss of murky and dramatic doubts.
"I loved, I love and I will love!" Who was he talking about, after all?
Well, all indications are that he was talking about Ted. But all kinds of heads and tails can be attached to this phrase. Like, "Dear Drewsie, this creep in unzipped pants resorted to trickery to gain entry to my house, but it is you whom I loved, I love and I will love!". Although, why then did he mention some fucking asshole? Well, for example, "Dear Drewsie, this hideous stalker you behold is a detestable infernal pig in human disguise. I loved, love and will love you, but, fucking asshole, it was rather uncourteous to stain the whole carpet with blood". Or even, "Rhinestones are what I loved, love and will love, and you, fucking asshole, understood the loveliness of rhinestones only after I left you in tears of despair! And now I will return only on one condition: if you set in rhinestones a full length portrait of Barbra Streisand on the wall of our bedroom".
In essence, it was perfectly clear to Ted that his concussed brain was generating delirium, but he was not able to brush it off, because Emmett had not cared to bring even a bag with a change of underwear.
"Em!" called the sufferer in a husky voice of a person that is staring into the eyes of death. Certainly, his friend rushed up to the bedroom. "Em, what did you tell Drew Boyd then?"
"That I will rip his balls off and shove them into his throat if he lays a finger on you."
Wow! This moment has to be memorized in case of sexual debility - to be used instead of Viagra.
"You also said, 'I loved, I love and I will love'".
"Yes, I did, Teddy. Anyway, may I return to the oven?"
"I also always loved, love and will love you."
"Sure, honey, we are best friends!" and he ran away.
It was a perfect timing for the sound of shattered glass. And the sound came, because Emmett pulled a glass pan out of the oven, and it happened to be, what do you know, hot. Damn Em. If he is in a mood to ignore something, he will ignore it.
***
A couple of days passed. Ted always loathed being stuck home on sick leave, and now he was sitting in bed in briefs and an old T-shirt with a cartoon cat and was trying to cotton on to some Kinnetic bills. He still had a bit of trouble focusing his vision, and any exertion was giving him a headache. Having received a business email from Ted, Brian called him fucking nerd and told him to sleep it off. But one can only sleep, say, fourteen hours in a row, no more. A neurologist had banned Ted from reading for a while, movies were giving him aching eyes, but two or three papers do not count, do they?
Sooner or later evening will come, accompanied by his friends. Of course, it would be nice if Emmett came alone. But he had not spent much time one on one with Ted since the epochal battle. It wasn't that Ted wanted sex (hardly anybody can be made romantic by nausea and dizziness), but the trend in itself was oppressing.
There was a knock at the door. Ted tossed on his bathrobe and opened the door. He was confident, that it was Debbie again. But fuck it was. He had to burn this damned T-shirt; some wicked magic was obviously lurking in it.
"Look, sorry, I have guests here!" Ted told Blake, trying to shut the door.
"No guests here. Except perhaps Alessandro Scarlatti: none of your friends listen to baroque opera. And I also recognize this funny T-shirt."
Ted wrapped himself tighter in his bathrobe and felt glad that at least it was not Brian at his door.
"I came to ask how you are," Blake said.
"More or less like a pregnant dyke, as far as I can see. I am praying to be spared of labor. And now, please go away."
"Ted, I will go. But once I've come to see you. Let's talk at least for a little while."
Blake took Ted's hand and tried to lead him to the middle of the dining room. Ted withdrew his hand, but also withdrew himself from the door and sat down on the couch. Blake took a seat next to him.
"So, what do you want to say?" Ted asked.
"So, are you and Emmett together again?"
"I do not know yet, but I hope that yes, we are."
"Hmmm... I see." A brief silence. "Actually, I have been wanting to ask you for a long time, why are you still so angry at me. It has been more than a year already. I by no means wanted to hurt you. It seemed to me, we had a wonderful, even beautiful, conversation, and we decided to remain friends." Ted shook his head nervously and started to blink swiftly. "But you never called, never answered my messages and barely let me into the house where we'd lived together for two splendid years. I need to know why." Blake gave his ex-partner a couple of minutes to enjoy yet another influx of guilt and, before Ted recalled that it had been Blake who had once offered not to see each other again.
(Well, it would be fair to assume that, considering all that emotions, Blake himself was likely to forget that fact).
Then he continued in his mesmerizing voice, "And I also want to tell you that I have missed and miss you very much."
Well, the last bit was pronounced with a hell of a poignancy. Especially when paired with an intent, warm and endlessly loving stare of blue translucent eyes. Fucking hypnotist, he was quite fit to perform at a circus. Apparently realizing he was on the right track, Blake put his hand on Ted's thigh. And Ted shivered. His flesh began to crawl and then became hard and erect in all possible and impossible places, including, as it seemed to him, even his nasal hair. He felt hell of a desire to blow Blake, to bang him in the ass, to seize his ex by the hair and fuck his throat as deeply as possible. Ted screwed up his eyes and clenched his fists, and then Blake touched his cheek gently and kissed him.
And Ted answered the kiss.
The thin lips, the soft tongue in his mouth, the subtle touch, the feeling of that skin under his fingers, the scent, the sound of breath. How badly he missed all that for so many months! Between now and then Ted slept with a crowd of people as multitudinous as a big wind orchestra in an attempt to get rid of those intrusive memories at least for a little while. There were endless Todds, Petes, Steves… Damn, why do they always announce that absolutely excessive information?... And there was Emmett - and quite a different situation. Emmett could open the door with his key every minute now and see, how Blake…
Ted tried to withdraw, but Blake seized his nape and pulled him closer. Then Ted rudely shove Blake from the couch and yelled:
"Get the fuck out of here!"
"Ted..." Blake started.
"Don't you understand that you have no right to do this to me?! Have you ever watched what you were doing?!"
"Ted..."
"Do you remember, when I was still in rehabilitation, and you also came to me and dropped your pants."
"Well, frankly speaking, you did not make me put them back on."
"I was fuck over hills in love with you and thought you would stay. And you went, like, 'Oh, it was not right, I will go, the timing is so wrong.' Did you think about what would happen to me next?! Did you think that that very day I would get fucking high and go through another round of that hell? That again I might die because of you?!"
"I did not imagine..."
"You never imagine. You always do this to me without a second thought, just because you want it and had missed it. Get out of here! I do not want to see you ever again!"
"Ted, we've never before discussed…"
"We are doing it now. Go fuck yourself!"
Blake grabbed his coat and stormed out of the condo. Ted threw a lamp after him, and it shattered against the door.
O cessate di piagarmi, o lasciatemi morir![ii]
TBC
[i]
[i] Brian and Ted are making allusions to JRR Tolkien's legendarium.
[ii] Stop torturing me or let me die. (Italian) This is a quotation from a song by Alessandro Scarlatti.