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Pat stared intently at the notification.
He vaguely registered the voices behind him, but couldn't focus on them, not over the sound of his heart drumming in his ears.
"Is he still looking at it?" Mike asked.
"Let me see," Alison said. "...Yep. Still is."
He'd been sitting in the same chair, staring at the same screen for so long now that his legs felt numb, but he couldn't convince himself to get up. The most he could do was move his hand to occasional wiggle the mouse to stop his laptop from going into sleep mode.
"But the Loose Womens be on in five minutes!" Mary exclaimed.
Pat threaded his fingers together, resting his chin on them.
One new message
"I know, I know, but I've tried everything, and he's just not listening."
"Has he, like, had a stroke or something?" Mike wondered.
Pat glared ahead. It felt like those clumps of pixels were mocking him. Maybe they were. Or maybe this was all just some prank by Julian. It wouldn’t be the first time the Tory had used Pat’s computer to give him grief. But no, there was no way Julian had done this. Unfortunately.
One new message
In the reflection of his glass of water, he could just about see Alison roll her eyes.
"If he had a stroke, he'd be on the floor...I think."
"What's all this about a stroke?" Julian interjected.
Read message?
Maybe he just read the name wrong. Maybe- no. No that was definitely the right name. Bugger.
"Pat's completely bugged out, he won't talk to any of us."
"Didn't even react to me walkings through him," Mary added.
"No, he won't talk to any of you. Me, however, he will."
"Oh yeah?" Alison goaded.
Maybe it was a glitch? Pat clicked off the tab. Pat clicked back on it.
One new message.
Goddammit.
"Yes, of course. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's getting people's mouths running... usually with a bit of champers but hey ho, needs be. I can do it sober."
"You're bluffing."
"Not this time, tree hugger."
What if he just... accidentally deleted his Facebook account. Again. Would that work?
"Go on then. Make him talk."
No, Gabriel would clock on immediately and call up, asking what was wrong. His granddad had always joked that she was too smart to be a Butcher. Pat agreed.
"I will."
Pat swallowed. We're his glasses the problem? He cleaned them. He adjusted them. No matter how much he tried though, the words on the screen stayed the same.
One new message
He didn't hear Julian approach - obviously - but even in his catatonic state it was hard to ignore the long pair of mostly bare legs that had plonked themselves at his side.
"Ah, Pat," Julian tried. "There you are!"
There was no point staying silent. If he did, Julian would only take it personally. And Pat knew there’d be hell to pay if Julian did. Literally. The last time he’d tried to ignore the Tory, he’d woken up the next morning to find he’d somehow spent £300 on horse racing while he was asleep.
Pat didn't look away from the screen. "Yes, Jules?"
He knew Julian was giving the others the smug smirk. Alison irritated scoff confirmed it.
"Why are you still looking at that screen? The Tintern races are on in five minutes and Thomas is still hogging the radio listening to his bloody Kylie Minogue."
Pat just hummed in response.
One new message
"What are you even looking at anyway? It just looks like that Face Book you’re always using."
"It is."
"Then what's the issue? Did someone leave a comment on a picture of Daley again calling him a snub-nosed brat? I've told you, bullying just builds character."
"It's not about anything anyone's said...it's about who's saying it," Pat admitted.
Julian leaned forward, squinting at the laptop screen. "William Havers?"
"William Havers," Pat replied gravely.
Cor blimey, if that name didn't carry some baggage.
Mike, Alison and Mary joined him around the computer. Pat sighed. The more the bloody merrier, he supposed.
"Do you know him?" Alison asked.
Pat took a deep breath in and shook his head. "No, no. He was Ted's second in command back in his army days. They were..." He trailed off, trying to find the right word.
As he tapped his fingers against the table, Alison scrunched up her nose, as she always did when Ted's military past was brought up. He felt the same, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to share his usual sympathetic look with her.
God, how to even begin to describe their relationship…
“…Close," he decided.
That was the best he could think of. It still wasn’t enough, too small of a word for how big of a thing it was describing, but it would have to do.
Nobody seemed to catch onto what he was implying, sharing confused looks over his head, like they thought he couldn’t see them. Well, that wasn’t true. One person had caught on, and that person was Mike.
His eyes widened and he raised a hand to his jaw. "Oh."
"Yeah," Pat agreed.
"What oh?" Julian questioned.
Mike sighed and leaned forward to whisper in the other man's ear. Alison and Mary leaned in to try and listen.
Pat could just about see the start of Haver's message.
Hello Mr Butcher, I admit this is a little strange but bear with me here. I used to-
Why now? It had been years since Havers had moved bases, and he'd never once tried to contact Ted. Not even after he was invalidated. It had been complete radio silence, so why now?
"Oh," Alison gasped.
There was no point putting it off, or trying to ignore the message; it would just haunt the back of his mind until he finally dealt with it.
Pat took a breath in and clicked on the message.
-serve with your husband in Afghanistan. I've been trying to contact Theodore for years but, well, he's not an easy man to find. I'd almost given up hope, but then I saw you both on the T.V. talking about your house. A quick two minutes search on here and I found you, no problem. If I may be dramatic, it felt like a miracle. I would appreciate it if you would be able to pass on Theodore’s number, or if you are uncomfortable with that, simply a message that I'm so glad he's doing well for himself, he deserves it and I'm sorry I was never able to contact him. Thank you.
"Oh, he do be sounding quite nice," Mary commented.
Pat could have cried.
In the reflection of the glass, Pat saw the other ghosts shoot Mary a look. This would have been more effective if she hadn't been gazing blankly off into space, oblivious to the situation she’d found herself in.
Even in the midst of a slight breakdown, he couldn’t bite back a laugh at that. Though it did come out a lot more hysterical than he liked. Christ, but he did sound lovely, didn’t he?
He always had in Ted’s stories too. A man of endless patience and compassion, standing just out of reach.
Pat twisted his wedding ring around his finger.
"Mary, what have we said about reading a room?" Alison asked through gritted teeth.
Mary shook herself out of her thoughts. "Er, that I shoulds do it?"
"Yes! So do it!"
"But I can'ts read."
"Oh my god!"
"Blasphemy that is."
Mike cleared his throat and gestured to the doorway. "Maybe you two should have this conversation outside?"
Pat agreed. Better yet, maybe they could have the conversation nowhere, and everyone could forget the past five minutes. Now that would be grand.
"Good idea," Alison said. "Come on, Mary "
She grabbed Mary's arm and dragged her outside. Mary put up no struggle, stumbling along with her usual absent-minded expression. She’d probably be back in five minutes when it was time for her to watch Loose Women, but at least that was five minutes of peace.
Pat rubbed his face and sighed. Well, probably not peace. Knowing his luck, everyone in the house would know about his situation by lunchtime. God, that wasn’t going to be fun to deal with.
"So, I'm guessing he's like, Ted's ex or something," Mike said.
"No,” Pat replied, “they never got as far as dating. I think they both liked each other though. I know Teddy did, at least.”
He shifted in his seat, tempted to just get up and leave. He sincerely wasn’t in the mood for this. He’d thought Haver was the one ghost of the past they’d managed to escape, but apparently not.
"Oh, an almost. That's-"
"Worse," Julian finished. "At least with an ex you've been there, done that. But an almost? That’s going to be one of your biggest what-ifs, innit? The thing you always think about late at night when you’re all alone and there’s nothing else to distract you- ow!”
Mike scowled at Julian, who was gingerly rubbing at his arm.
"The one time you're honest," Mike groaned.
Pat clenched his fists, eyes stuck on the screen. It felt like a miracle.
"Well, you did say I should try lying less."
"Julian."
Pat stood and slammed his hands on the table. "Oh, will you shut up the both of you, christ!”
Silence rang out through the kitchen.
Pat’s face flushed and embarrassment quickly flooded in. “Sorry, sorry, I-”
“Nah, it’s fine, man,” Mike insisted, hands raised. “We should have shut up, it’s none of our business.”
Bless his soul, Pat thought. But that didn’t make him feel much better.
“Ta. But still, sorry for shouting.”
Julian, however, wasn’t as kind. "Why are you getting worked up about this anyway? Don't trust your hubby? I thought you were all about that hippie-dippie nonsense. Free love, and trust, and blah blah blah.”
"I trusted Carol too."
The words tumbled out a bit too blunt and a bit too honest, but he couldn't take them back. Pat wasn't sure he wanted to.
Julian frowned. “Carol?”
The familiar thump of wood against wood stopped Pat from reacting to that, and he sharply shut his laptop. Then he opened it, closed the tab, and shut it again. Just in case. As he stood up, he heard Mike say:
“The ex-wife, man, keep up.”
Pat ignored him, flicking on the kettle just as the kitchen door opened. Ted walked in, dressed in a nice button-down and slacks, leaning heavily on his cane. He still didn’t look entirely awake, eyes half-lidded and tie messier than usual.
Pat’s heart ached at the sight of him, and he pulled out a chair and slipped a cushion on it.
Julian, who had been standing behind said chair, jumped back with a scowl. "Oi, watch the merchandise, buddy! This suit is a Kiton! Well, the blazer is. The trousers were too when I had them.”
Mike sighed. “Nobody cares about your trousers, Julian.”
“I care.”
“I know you do.”
Why they hadn’t left yet, Pat didn’t know, but maybe if he ignored them for long enough, they’d get bored and go away.
“Morning, love.”
“Good morning, Patrick,” Ted mumbled. He hissed as he sat down, joints creaking loudly. “Thank you.”
"No problem. Tea?" He knew the answer, but it was a part of their routine, and he saw no need to change it.
"Please," Ted said through a yawn.
Pat pulled out two mugs, and then, scuttled over to give Ted his customary morning kiss on the cheek. His husband accepted the gesture with a soft smile and gentle hum that usually served to set Pat's day off the right way.
But now all he could think of was that bloody message.
He’d spent so long just panicking about the message itself, he hadn’t had time to panic over what to do with it.
Ted kissed his back, lips dry but warm, and Pat pulled back as the kettle finished whistling. His wedding ring gleamed in the dim light, like a lighthouse beacon.
He could just say nothing, delete the message and pretend it had never happened. He dropped in the teabags and poured in the tea.
“Do we have any of our ghostly guests here with us today?” Ted asked, voice still thick with sleep.
“Just Julian and Mike.”
Pat poured in the milk for him, two teaspoons of sugar for Ted, and pulled out the teabags, just as he had done for the last four months since they’d moved into Button Manor. Just another little thing that had quickly become another part of the daily Butcher routine.
“Ah, yes, the mechanic…” Ted twisted around in his seat to look at the ghost list Pat had blue tacked to the wall for him. “The mechanic and the Tory who died without his trousers on?”
Julian made a loud displease noise before storming out of the room, grumbling under his breath. Mike snickered and followed after.
Ted had to know which ghosts were which by now, Pat felt, but he seemed to enjoy pretending he couldn’t remember Julian. Usually, it made Pat laugh, but he wasn’t in much of a laughing mood.
He brought over the drinks. “Here.”
Ted accepted the drink with a frown, eyeing his husband with concern. He patted the chair beside him, and Pat sighed.
Yeah, he hadn’t even tried to act casual, had he?
He took a sear beside Ted, leaning his head against his husband’s shoulder sturdy. He was wearing that cologne Pat liked, and he breathed it in, the scent soothing him, if only a little. Ted’s hand reached up to play with the hair at the back of his neck, and Pat had a hard time believing it hadn’t always been like this. Just him and Teddy (and Daley…and all of their ghosts) against the world.
“What’s wrong? You’re looking a bit down,” Ted pointed out.
Pat looked at the laptop. “Feeling it.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
He could just say nothing, delete the message and pretend it had never happened. But…
“I got a message from Havers.”
Ted’s shoulder tensed. “I-Havers?”
“William,” Pat elaborated. “Found me on Facebook after seeing us on the telly. He wants to talk to you.”
Ted didn’t respond, and the silence stretched out a little too long for Pat to be comfortable with it. He pulled his head away and looked up at Ted.
The man looked bewildered, staring at a blank space on the wall with a slight furrow between his brows. “I thought…but it’s been years…”
Pat thought about that picture Ted still had in his wallet, of him and Havers at the Christmas party, arms around each other as they grinned sheepishly at the camera. It was tucked behind one taken at their wedding, suits as white as the carnations lovingly placed at every table in the venue, Daley in-between them reaching for the cake.
“He said he didn’t know how to contact you, or he would’ve beforehand. You probably didn’t think to slip him your number before he left, did you?” Pat teased. It fell flat, and he swallowed it down.
He could’ve lied, but that wouldn’t be right. Nobody had told him about Carol and Morris, and the last thing Ted deserved was to go through something like that. It was a very different situation, but Pat felt the sentiment was the same.
“…I assumed he’d figured out how I felt about him, and that’s why he’d left,” Ted admitted.
“That’s not how it sounded to me. Take a look.”
Pat opened the laptop, reopened the tab, and scooted it along so Ted could read it better.
As Ted read, Pat sipped at his drink the tea sloshing back and forth wildly inside as he failed to keep his hands steady. His stomach churned and his mind was blank. The tea tasted bland on his tongue.
Honestly, he wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to happen. For Ted to immediately pack his bags and abandon him for a man he’d loved several years ago who he wasn’t even sure liked him back?
Yes, a quiet voice in the back of his head said. Yes, you are.
When they’d met, Havers was the shadow always hovering over them. Ted had just been invalidated and had turned to the scouts for something to do after work; it almost made sense that he’d keep comparing Pat to his old second in command. It hadn’t really mattered back then, when they could barely stand the sight of each other. It was just another one of Ted’s annoying habits.
But then things changed, they’d changed, and suddenly all those little comparisons seemed a lot bigger.
Ted jolted him out of his thoughts with a hand to his back.
“Pat? Is everything all right?”
He nodded. It really wasn’t. “Course, just got a bit distracted.”
Ted pursed his lips, looking between the screen and Pat’s face. “…Is this about Havers?”
It was such a childish worry, honestly, Pat told himself. He had the man’s ring on his finger, his surname following after Ted’s on every official document- they owned a bloody house together for christ sake!
Why was he afraid?
Ted took one of Pat’s hands in his, his free one cupping Pat’s cheek, palm warm from the tea. “Now you listen carefully to me when I say this, Patrick Butcher, because every word of it is true: I love you. I love you completely and utterly, so much that I often wonder if I’ve gone mad. I love you and I chose you, and I promise you I would never do what Carol did you. I care too much about you to even dream of breaking your heart. And Havers was my first love, yes, but you will be my last.”
Pat chest ached, intensely and deeply, but it was a good kind of ache, a wonderful ache. “God, Teddy,” he gasped.
Ted pulled him into a hug, and Pat hid his face in the broad expanse of Ted’s chest. He wasn’t crying, but he felt like he was, throat too tight to speak and face flushed. A hand ran through Pat’s hair, gentle and methodical, and slowly but surely, he calmed down.
“God,” he chuckled, “I haven’t felt like that since our wedding day.”
Ted pulled his hand away from his husband’s hair, brushing a thumb under Pat’s eyes. “But no tears this time. I think that’s an improvement.”
Pat laughed again and finally pulled away. He didn’t let go of Ted’s hand though, a comforting weight in his, and looked up to see a small, cautious smile on the man’s face. Ted’s eyes flickered over his face, double-checking that he really wasn’t crying, and leaned forward to kiss Pat’s head.
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
“I know.” And Pat did know. But this time, he felt it was true too. “It’s not…it’s not that I don’t trust you, Teddy. It’s just…”
“Hard? I’d be shocked if it wasn’t.” Ted held Pat’s hands with both of his, running his left thumb over the wedding ring. “If you like, we could just ignore him.”
It would be easy to say no.
The lights above them flickered, and somewhere in the house, Kitty was trying to chase down the pigeon, giggling loudly, with Thomas hot at her heels, trying to ask her what she thought of his latest poem.
But when had they never done things the easy way?
“No, that’s not fair on either of you.” Pat reluctantly back away from Ted and turned to the laptop.
Hiya William! It’s nice to finally talk to you! Teddy’s told me an awful lot about you 😊
Ted flushed and elbowed him sharply. “Don’t say that.”
“Too late, I’m saying it.” He felt a small pike of anxiety when he looked at the words he’d written, but he simply shuffled closer, so his and Ted’s thighs were pressed flush against each other, and ignored it.
I think he’d loved the chance to catch up with you – got a number he could call?
Pat almost pressed send, but then he paused.
Or you could always come to visit if you like. Button Manor’s plenty big enough.
Now he could press send.
“Patrick,” Ted began, “you didn’t need to do that.”
“I didn’t,” he agreed. “But it could be good, for all of us.”
“Or terrible.”
“Ever the optimist, dear.”
Ted rolled his eyes, and couldn’t resist leaning in for a kiss.
The laptop pinged as a new message came in, but neither paid it any attention, too caught up in each other.
That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mr Butcher. Thank you for much for the offer. If it’s isn’t a bother, I’d be delighted to take you up on it. I’m free next weekend if that’s a good time.
Pat snuck a few quick kisses before pulling back, chest light and airy. “Love you.”
“I love you too.”