Chapter Text
"Enemy spotted, Captain."
"Good eye, Lieutenant. Anything else to report?"
"Looks like he has back up, sir. A lot of it."
Ted adjusted his binoculars. "Blast. It seems this won't be an easy operation."
"No, sir, not likely."
"This calls for stealth and speed. Do you think you're capable, solider?"
"Course! I'm the fastest one in my PE class. Sir."
"Excellent. Now, all we must do is-"
A throat cleared loudly.
Ted and Daley turned away from their barricade (otherwise known as a hedge) and peered up a thoroughly amused Pat.
"You two having fun down there?”
Ted flushed with embarrassment while Daley pouted. He looked practically swamped in the camouflage jacket he'd borrowed from the former captain, a bucket hat on his head in place of a helmet. Hardly appropriate for a soldier, but as Pat had made it clear Ted wasn’t allowed to buy him a cadets uniform even as a Halloween costume, it would have to do.
"Dad," Daley whined, "we're trying to scope out the enemy!"
Ted's blush deepened, and he cleared his throat, grip tight on his cane. Really, it was ridiculous for a man of his age to be caught doing such a thing, hiding behind a hedge, playing soldier like a child. But Pat’s grin was only fond and amused.
"Forget your original mission, Cappy?' he teased.
Ted swallowed, looking away sheepishly. He had meant to do the chore Pat had asked of him, truly, but then Daley had come along and they'd both gotten a little... distracted, as was often the case when Daley came to visit.
"...Perhaps. Also, as I've said before, that is not a good nickname.'
Pat just laughed good-naturedly, looking handsome in the bright summer sun, and shot his husband a cheery grin. "Well, I'll let you off this once. But you still need to take the post over to the Beg-Chetwynde’s. God knows why they keep sending it to us instead, but they do, and I took it over last time."
“To be fair, if I was expected to deliver post to the Beg-Chetwynde’s, I would do anything in my power to avoid it too,” Ted reasoned. “But of course, we’ll go do that now, dear.”
"Thank you." Pat looked away from Ted, towards the fountain, and frowned. "Wait, he's done what now? But I just fixed them!"
Ted straightened up, wincing at the way his back cracked (good lord, why had he thought it was a good idea to crouch down with Daley?), and watched as his husband spoke to the air. What must it be like, he wondered, to be married to a man who couldn't talk to ghosts? Who didn't spend his time chatting to the air and following after invisible footsteps?
Obviously, Ted knew - he'd been married to Pat before Button House - but at the same time, it felt as though things had always been this way.
Daley's eyes widened, as they always did at the mention of their deceased housemates, endlessly fascinated by them. "Who's done what?" he asked.
"Robin’s only gone and blown the bloody lights again."
“Again?” Ted exclaimed. “But that’s the third time this week!”
“I know!”
Pat dragged a hand over his face and muttered something under his breath. Then he turned his attention back to Ted and Daley. "Right, so I'm gonna go fix the lights, and by the time I'm done, I want the post delivered. That's an order, Captain."
Ted bit back a grin and nodded sharply. "Yes, sir."
It made him feel a little less silly when Pat played along too. It didn't hurt that Pat made quite the good military man when he needed to, short stature and general distaste for the military system aside. Ted supposed he needed to be, having to deal with the rowdy crowd that was the local scout group every weekend. Lord only knew where he got the patience from - Ted had long since given up on trying to assist the scoutmaster.
"Good." Pat's expression softened and he leaned forward to ruffle Daley's hair. "And be nice now. I don't care if Barclay is the enemy, he's also our neighbour and I'd appreciate being on decent terms with him. Or else he might try and nick our driveway again."
It was a bit late for that, Ted felt, but he nodded all the same.
"Don't worry, Dad," Daley chirped. "Cap's been teaching me about negotiations. We can handle it."
Pat's lips twitched in that familiar way that meant he was desperately holding back a laugh. "Not sure you need any negotiations for handing over some wayward post, but hey ho, what do I know?"
His gaze drifted again, a frown coming with it. Ted and Daley stood awkwardly and silently before him as Pat stared blankly into space. The two shared a look.
If anything, the ghosts had at least given him and Daley something to bond over, and Ted was thankful for that. He wasn't sure he was all that grateful for the ghosts themselves, not with Robin's light fixation, Lady Button's occasional media appearances, and Julian's...well, everything , but he at least appreciated that about them.
"Oh, naff off," Pat scoffed suddenly, "if you think his poetry is that bad, just go into another room. It's not that difficult. Oh, and Daley?"
He perked up. "Yeah?"
"Stephanie says you should go over your maths homework again. You got questions four and thirteen wrong."
Daley groaned and hunched over dramatically, hands nearly touching the ground. "But I've already gone over it twice!"
Ted had never had to deal with children prior to meeting Pat, having no younger siblings, cousins or niblings, and he'd always thought them strange, sticky little things. But Daley had done a wonderful job of altering his opinion. They were still, to a point, strange, sticky little things, but they could be endless entertaining too, reacting to the simplest of things like they were in a pantomime. All for free too, what a steal.
"And if you go over it three times, you'll have every answer right. And I don't know about you, Ted," Pat said, eyes flicking up to meet his husband's, "but I think that deserves an award."
Ted nodded. "Quite right, Patrick. Say, has that ice cream parlour in town opened up yet?"
He already knew the answer - he had been keeping a close eye on it, purely out of curiosity, of course - but it was all a part of the game.
"You know what, I think it has."
Daley immediately straightened up, a toothy grin on his face. "I'll do it as soon as we get back!" he promised.
Pat clapped his hands together. "Brillo pads!'
"Atta boy," Ted praised. "Now enough chit chat, we have a mission, Lieutenant."
Daley saluted, putting on a serious expression. "Aye aye, Captain." The frown was quickly replaced by a grin as he chirped: "Bye Dad!"
Though Ted had heard many a person comment that Daley took more after his mother than father in the looks department, but his smile was undeniably Pat. Big, bright and hopelessly charming. How Ted had ever managed to deny that grin for so long was beyond him.
"See you," Pat chuckled. He leaned forward, pressing a warm kiss to Ted's cheek before he turned on his heel and headed inside. "No, I can't ban Tommy from his own poetry club. If you have a problem with him, you'll have to sort it out yourself like adults...or ask Alison to deal with it. I've got lights to fix."
"...Bet you he was talking to Julian," Daley whispered.
Ted tore his eyes away from his husband, praying he wasn't blushing too much. You'd think over a year of marriage would have stopped him from going red at the slightest show of affection, but apparently not.
"I believe it might be Humphrey instead,” he countered. "Didn't Patrick say he'd recently taken an interest in poetry?"
Daley scrunched up his face, squinting at Pat's retreating form. "I dunno. I still think it's Julian. Humphrey's is the headless one, right? He can't just walk into another room."
"Perhaps he has his body back, for once."
If history repeated itself, as it often did, then probably none of them were right. Still, it was a harmless little guessing game the two of them liked to play and being continually wrong did nothing to ruin their fun.
Daley shook his head and hopped into his tiptoes to peer over the hedge. "I think Mr Whatshisname’s gone into the woods."
"Good. If luck is on our side, we might just get there and back before he does."
Which meant no awkward one-sided conversations that dragged on far too that almost always included some vaguely homophobic comment that Ted would have to ignore lest he upset their very rich and powerful next-door neighbours. Obviously, Ted was in favour of avoiding that entire rigamarole.
"Then let's go!" Daley grabbed his free hand and dragged him forward.
Ted yelped and stumbled after him, grip tight on his cane. "Steady on, Lieutenant, I don't exactly have the joint mobility I used to!"
"Oops, sorry da- Cap."
"Quite alright, chap. Just be mindful that I can't exactly go fast these days."
Truly, it was impressive that he could go at all, but he kept that comment to himself. He'd learnt the hard way that those sorts of things upset Daley.
"If you want to run ahead though," Ted continued, "by all means, be my guest."
"No. I'm happy to stay with you."
Ted cleared his throat, a sudden tight feeling in his chest. It was a little thing, an offhand comment he knew, but that the ever-energetic Daley was willing to slow down just for him warmed his heart all the same. He had the urge to pull Daley into a tight hug, just like Pat would do.
"...You okay, Cap?" Daley asked, eyes wide and brown.
Ted clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it tight before pulling away. "Quite alright. Just have a little something in my eye.
He wasn't Patrick and besides, who was to say Daley would even be alright with that? For all intents and purposes, Ted was still a fairly new fixture in Daley's life, and he didn't want to push his luck. It was best to keep a certain distance until he absolutely knew Daley wouldn’t mind.
Besides, he mused, as he watched his Daley skip along beside him, he was quite happy with where they were now.