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Ted didn't really feel any different the first three days of taking the medication. There was an occasional uneasiness in his belly at random points during the day but it usually wore off pretty quick. He knew the positive effects would take awhile to kick in but he was starting to think he’d been fortunate enough to miss all the negative ones he’d read about.
But that idea went right out the window when, on the fourth day, he woke to an awful acidic taste in his mouth and his gut churning enough that he had to pause after sitting up, waiting for his stomach to get back to its rightful place. He choked down a biscuit while he packed Rebecca's into a box, gulped down an entire glass of water to try and settle the day’s pill in his stomach.
The strange energy didn't spark under his skin until he was on his way to work, a different sensation from the usual shakiness he’d learned to take as a warning sign. He rubbed his hands up and down over the straps of his backpack as he walked, the rough material against his palm somewhat taking the edge off.
He tried to keep his mind off of it as he switched into Coach mode, tried not to notice the sharpness of each of his movements, or the lack of fine control over the muscles in his arms as he tugged on his sweater. His body felt strangely out of sync with his mind, his thoughts flitting through at a regular just-under-the-speed-limit cruise control while his muscles felt like they were trying their darndest to get a ticket for reckless driving.
As practice progressed and his gestures became more stuttered, he found himself tucking his arms in towards his stomach, the squeeze of his fingers against his sides getting tighter and tighter as the hours wore on. He could feel Beard’s eyes lingering on him more than normal but couldn’t bring himself to let go of this small comfort, the position bringing a slight relief to the feeling that he was going to burst out of his skin.
He was standing over his desk after practice, examining the plans for this one trick play that just seemed that little bit off when Beard finally broached the subject. “Coach?” he said, as Ted ran it through his head for the thirty-ninth time.
“Yeah?” Ted responded absently, eyes still on the page. Maybe if Colin went this way and--
“Everything okay?” Ted looked up. He followed Beard’s gaze down to his middle, where Ted’s arms were still pressed deep into his stomach.
Ted flexed his wrists, pushing inwards just a little more. “Uh, yeah, I just…” He took a deep breath and shook his hands out, letting them fall to the side. “Feeling a little keyed up is all. It’s kinda like...kinda like my body thinks it’s Henry on Christmas morning but my brain missed the memo.”
Beard nodded slowly, eyes narrowed as he took him in.
“Think it might be the medication,” Ted added, shoving his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t fold them again. He squeezed his thighs through the thin lining.
Beard looked at him another long moment, then turned his head towards the window dividing the coach’s offices. “Nate,” he called and crooked a finger when Nate looked up, beckoning him over.
Ted watched, not sure what to think as Beard circled the desk and lined himself up on Ted’s right side, perpendicular to him. “Hold on,” Ted said, as Beard navigated Nate into a similar position on the other side with a wave and a point. “Are y’all about to actually do improv for real, now? Ooh, wait, is it going to be interactive?”
“Let me know if this is too much,” Beard said, ignoring Ted in that precise way he’d perfected over the years and Ted could only watch wide-eyed as he slowly and deliberately raised his arms and wrapped them tightly around Ted’s shoulders, encircling him.
Beard gestured with his head at Nate. “Uh, right,” Nate said and he haltingly wound his arms around Ted’s middle.
Ted glanced at both their faces, then down at the limbs compressing most of his upper body. “Um,” he said intelligently.
“This alright, Coach?” Beard asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Ted nodded jerkily, feeling his hands unclench from his thighs. “It’s, uh...it’s helping.” He peered down at Nate. “You don’t hafta do this if you’re not comfortable, Nate,” Ted said. “It’s not exactly part of your job description.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Nate said, tightening his hold. Ted squinted at him but the words seemed genuine enough and Nate’s expression had relaxed into something serene, his gaze fixed somewhere over Beard’s shoulder but not quite focused on the bookshelf behind him.
They stood like that in silence for awhile, Ted relishing the feeling of his singing nerves finally starting to quieten after a long, long day. He was a little overwhelmed by a rush of gratitude for Beard: for noticing, for waiting until his players left to bring it up, for always knowing what to do. And for Nate of course, for always playing gamely along.
“What the fuck are you lot doing?”
Ted grinned. “Hi, Roy,” he greeted as Roy just stared at them from the doorway. “Side effects,” Ted said simply, with as much of a shrug as he could do in his current position. “Do you wanna join--”
“Fuck no,” Roy growled, turning away before Ted even finished the question. Ted laughed, watching him as he strode out of the locker room, pulling his phone out along the way. He wondered briefly if Roy was texting Keeley about what he’d just seen, not really sure how he felt about that.
They remained standing like that, Beard and Nate keeping up a steady pressure that soothed Ted all the way down to his bones, until a small hiccuping noise pierced through the quiet. Beard wrinkled his nose and a moment later, Ted followed suit as the smell hit him.
“Sorry,” Nate said sheepishly. “I, uh, had shrimp tacos for lunch.”
“Alright, I think that’s enough,” Ted said, shaking his arms as Beard stepped back, nodding briskly. “I’m good now. I truly do appreciate you both, though,” he added as Nate released his hold as well, shuffling backwards.
“Anytime, Coach,” Beard said with a smile and Ted felt that gratitude filling him right up again, warming him from head to toe.
They headed out shortly after, he and Beard using the walk back to bounce ideas off of each other on how to fix that darn trick play. He let himself in through the front door, bidding Beard goodnight, and pulled to a stop at the entrance to his unit. There was an unmarked box sitting on the welcome mat. He squinted at it a long moment, trying to remember if he was expecting anything, then picked it up with a shrug and let himself into his apartment.
He propped it on his kitchen table to slice it open and when he dipped his hands in, came out with what looked like a large wad of dark blue fabric wrapped in plastic. It was surprisingly heavy in his hands. He ripped open the packaging and shook it out, realising what it was as it settled over his lap. A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the way Roy was tapping away at his phone as he exited the locker room.
He turned the empty box over to make sure he hadn’t missed a note inside, then pulled out his own phone and snapped a quick picture of the blanket spread out over his legs.
‘This you?’ he texted.
Roy’s message back contained only a shrug emoji.
Ted huffed a laugh, standing up and folding the blanket to take it to his bedroom with him. A second later, his phone dinged again and he grinned, throat tightening a little at the follow-up message.
‘Sleep well, Coach.’
And another one, right on its heels.
‘And tell Ms. Shipley to stop fucking letting strange men into your building just because they know your fucking name.’
He hugged the bundle close to his chest, laughing all the way to bed.