Chapter Text
The ghost cackled in reply and moved on.
Correction, now this was how to start your day.
When Ted finally let him go, Pat was lightheaded and flustered in the best of ways. He grinned up at his husband and snuck in one last kiss on his cheek before settling down on the ground.
"Lovely," he sighed. His haze dropped down to his hand on Ted's chest. "You're awfully dolled up today."
Ted puffed out his chest, practically preening. "Yes, ah, well, I thought it appropriate."
"Appropriate?"
"Yes." Ted pulled Pat's hand off his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. "Happy anniversary, Patrick."
It took a few moments for the cogs to start turning. " Christ !”
"Don't tell me you forgot." He didn't sound offended, just amused.
Pat flushed, eyes fluttering away. "Only this morning. Got that bloody bird in the brain."
Forgetting his own wedding anniversary, honestly, what was he like?
"Well, tell it to leave. I'd rather the only thing be on your mind today be you and me." He punctuated that with another kiss to Pat’s knuckles, directly above his wedding ring.
"That won't be difficult. Wow ," he breathed. " Four years ."
He couldn’t hold back a delighted laugh. After Carol, he'd honestly thought that was it for him. That he'd never hear wedding bells ring ever again, but here he was, four years later, a shiny ring on his finger and a wonderful husband at his side.
"Four wonderful years," Ted agreed.
Pat stole another kiss because how could he not? It was only when he pulled away that he realised something. "Oh god, look at you all dressed up and I'm still in my jim jams.”
He smoothed down the labels of his dressing gown as if that would somehow make things better. Christ, he really was a mess this morning, wasn’t he?
Ted stole his hand back, stopping Pat’s nervous flutter in its track. “Well, I happen to think they’re rather nice pyjamas.”
Another laugh followed after, and any worry faded away. “Oh, shut it.”
“Never.” Ted took a step back and gestured behind them. “Now why don’t you sit down?”
Pat turned around, his eyes widening. “Oh, Teddy .”
Behind him, Ted had set up a small table with a wonderful little spread: tea and honey, strawberries and blackberries, jam and freshly baked croissants. A radio was set up on the counter beside it, an envelope lay in the middle of the table, and a trail of rose petals lead up to the scene.
He bent down and picked up one of the petals, rubbing it between his fingers. It was genuine, and he’d bet they were from the rose bush in their garden. His heart fluttered in his chest and he had the strange urge to cry.
Ted placed a hand at the small of his back, gently pushing him forward. “If you dawdle any longer, the tea’s going to get cold.”
Collecting himself, Pat shot his husband a grin. “Can’t have that now, can we?”
“Definitely not.”
Breakfast was unbelievably calm and peaceful. The food was wonderful, the conversation easy, the handwritten poem tucked inside the envelope was beautiful (Thomas could stand to take a few notes), and with Ted's ankle hooked with his, Pat felt like he was on cloud nine.
When the food was all eaten, Pat took a moment just to sit back and drink in the sight of his husband.
The summer sun had snuck through the window and lit up the room, making Ted’s grey hair glow golden, and his ring shimmer like a diamond. A part of Pat had the urge to call him a modern Apollo, but really, no comparisons to gods would suffice. Theodore was far too human for that, his face alone a clear map of the years and hardships he’d travelled through.
Besides, it’d to compare him would be an insult. Ted was far better than man of myth.
Feeling the stare, Ted looked up, catching Pat’s eye. “What are you looking at?”
“There’s something on your face,” Pat lied. Leaning over, he wiped the invisible stain away with his thumb, stealing a kiss while he was there just because he could.
Ted hummed in response, eyes fluttering open as Pat pulled away. “Thank you, dear.”
Dear . He was getting lucky today. Ted used pet names sparingly, so it was always a treat when he slipped one in.
“No problem.” Pat pushed himself to his feet. “Give me a second and I’ll go fetch your present.”
He’d hidden the gift in Humphrey’s room (though he wasn’t sure if he could call it Humphrey’s room when the ghost in question was rarely fully there) of all places, knowing it was one of the places Ted dared not enter. It seemed the mere knowledge that it belonged to a headless ghost was enough to keep Ted away, making it the perfect hiding spot.
Pat knocked on the door, waiting until he heard a quiet “Come in” to enter.
Humphrey’s head was, as usual, on the floor, and his body was nowhere to be seen.
“Just popping in to grab the gift,” Pat said.
“Go ahead.” As Pat shuffled past him, Humphrey whistled. “Nice socks.”
“Thanks.”
It was a small thing, but Humphrey always seemed to appreciate an interesting pair of shoes or socks, so Pat had made a habit of buying the brightest, gaudiest ones he could just to give the ghost something to look at.
“What is that? Some sort of…spikey rock?”
Pat checked his feet. “Pineapples. They’re a kind of fruit.”
“I didn’t realise we had new fruit.”
“I’ll buy you one sometimes to show you.”
He crouched down beside the door, knees crackling (Ted wasn't the only one getting too old for this kind of thing, Christ ) and picked up the gift. As he pushed himself to his feet, he heard Humphrey chirp:
“Morning, Alison.”
“Morning, Humphrey! I found your body.”
When he turned around, Alison was crossing the room, picking up Humphrey and placing him on top of her shoulder.
“And where was he this time?”
“Downstairs mingling with the plague lot.”
“And by mingling, do you mean…”
“Yeah, they were getting a bit handsy.”
Humphrey let out a long-defeated sigh. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
Alison sympathetically patted the side of his head. Then she turned to Pat. “Oh, hey, what’s crackin’?”
He gave the present a gentle shake in response.
“Is it the Captain’s birthday already? I thought that was last month.”
He shuddered at the reminder of that event. That was the last time he was letting any of the ghosts in on a birthday surprise. “It was. This is for our anniversary.”
At the mere mention of it, his dopey grin was back. Four whole years and, hopefully, many, many more.
"That's...that's great, Pat. Congratulations."
Even through the haze of domestic bliss, Pat noticed how stilted her words were, how strained her smile was.
"You alright?" he asked.
"Yeah, of course!"
Pat stared her down. Humphrey awkwardly looked away.
"…Okay, maybe not. I just- marriage, you know? I never thought I cared all that much about it. Always thought it was more fuss and money than it was worth. But then I died, and then I met Mike and now...I don't know. I feel like I'm missing out."
"Oh, Ali..."
It was at these times Pat wished he could touch the ghosts as well as see them.
She sniffed and stepped back. "God, look at me, being a right bummer. I'll, um, I'll talk to the others. Ask them to give you a day off so you can celebrate properly.”
“Thanks.” He wanted to say more, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to say.
She gave him another strained smile before walking out of the room.
“Marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be anyway,” Humphrey assured her. “Did I ever tell you about that time…”
Eventually, they walked too far for Pat to hear, and he was left in the room alone, looking at the door.
He swallowed thickly. Poor Alison. How long had she felt that way? And what about Mike, did he feel the same? Did he sometimes dream of watching her walk down the aisle, bathed in white?
Pat shook his head. Now, who was being the bummer?
After brushing off the fust from his knees he returned to Ted, and all miserable thoughts fled his head.
The gift (a first edition of A Study in Scarlet) went down like a treat.
Ted had spent an entire minute just gaping in shock after the wrapping had been peeled away, and handled it like a priceless heirloom (which it was, in a way).
“How did you even get this?” he asked when he finally found the words to speak. “It must have cost a fortune…”
“That's for me to know and you to find out.”
In truth, it had cost him nothing digging in the woods near the house. A few weeks ago, he'd found a ghost there (a nice chap, distinctly miffed he'd kicked the bucket in England of all places, but nice all the same) who'd claimed he'd buried his most prized possessions on the land before his death. Considering he couldn't appreciate them, he'd happily told Pat the location, and just like that, he had the perfect anniversary gift…plus a handful of vintage erotica, he wasn't quite sure what to do with. Maybe Kitty would like it, she seemed to be into those sorts of things...
He shuddered at the thought.
The rest of the day passed by in a peaceful haze, a miracle in itself. After they cleaned the dishes, gently bumping hips, they’d pieced together a puzzle in the garden, the radio crooning quietly, then gone for a walk through the forest and nearby town, stopping at a bakery for dessert. That afternoon, they’d stayed curled beside each other up in bed, silently reading, only interrupting one another for the occasional much-needed kiss.
The ghosts were nowhere to be seen. Pat honestly had no clue where they were, and though he was slightly concerned by that, a much bigger part of him appreciated the gesture. It was rare that they got any time to themselves, anymore.
They only reappeared when night fell, settled in the living for their weekly Pop Culture Catch Up. Usually, they’d pick a decade and watch a popular movie or show from the time, but this time Pat levered their anniversary so that he could put on Dad’s Army, which pleased Ted and no one else. Still, none of them had actually left yet, so Pat considered that a plus.
His eyes had glazed over by the time the third episode was playing (he enjoyed the show, honest, but Ted had rewatched it so many times that it was quickly losing its charm) and he found his gaze drifting over to Alison and Mike.
They were curled up on a love seat, Alison sprawled over Mike’s lap, her head on his chest, his arm around her waist, making a sweet little scene. Pat watched as Mike ducked his head to whisper something in Alison’s ear, and as she bit her lip, clearly trying to fight a laugh. She gently thumped her hand against his arm, and he hid his laugh in her hair.
Pat swallowed and looked away.
He tried not to think about it, to focus on the show or Ted’s hand on his thigh, gently rubbing circles into his skin, but he couldn’t.
Even later that night, when Pat was in bed, staring up the ceiling, his mind was on the pair.
Cadet was curled up by his hip, purring quietly, and Ted was on his other side, facing the wall.
He sighed quietly. It was a ridiculous idea, really it was. But now it just wouldn’t leave his head, and he doubted it would until he did something about it. He’d already had one sleepless night, he didn’t need another.
Pat rolled onto his side, slipping an arm over Ted waits and kissing the back of his neck. It was a tried-and-true method to test whether or not Ted was awake enough to talk, and much to Pat's luck, he heard a gentle hum.
"Yes?" Ted asked, voice quiet and gruff.
"Have you ever thought of reinstating our vows?"
For a moment or so, all Pat could hear was the creaking of floorboards, and the murmur of disembodied voices, hiding just out of sight.
"…I thought people waited until their anniversaries were in the double digits to do that sort of thing. We're still on singular, last I checked."
"I know, but..."
Ted rolled over so he was facing Pat. His features were mostly hidden in the shadows of the night, except a line of moonlight that trailed over the bridge of his nose, making his eyes glow like lighthouse beacons. “What going on in that clever mind of yours?”
Pat bit back a grin. “Flatterer.” He quickly sobered up though. “I had a chat with Alison today. About marriage and all that.”
Ted’s expression remained blank for a few seconds, and then his eyes widened. “ Ah .”
“She seemed really upset.”
“I can imagine.”
“And, you know, I was thinking, I know it wouldn’t be official, or anything even close, but if we reinstated our vows, they could be there too and…they could at least pretend? That’s it’s for them? I think it’s the closest thing they could ever have to an official marriage.”
Silence stretched out after that, and Pat’s face quickly flooded with heat.
“Never mind, that was silly, I-”
“Let’s do it.”
Pat blinked in surprise. “Oh! Really, you think we should?”
His husband shifted, leaning up on one elbow, gaze intent. "Patrick, I grew up thinking I'd never be able to get married, that I'd never get a chance at this," he reached for Pat’s hand, pulling it to his lips and ever so gently kissing the knuckle his wedding ring. "And then I did, and it was the most magical day of my life. If I give that gift to someone else, then, of course, I will.”
Like ice cream on a hot summer’s day, Pat’s heart melted. “Oh, Teddy .”
Ted placed the hand he’d stolen on his hip and shuffled until he was back flat on the bed, legs entwined with Pat’s. “Besides, I’m quite happy with anything that gives you a reason to get back into your wedding suit.”
There was a mischievous glimmer in his eye, and Pat grinned back.
“It’s just a suit,” he teased.
“Not on you.”
Ted slid his lips over Pat’s and all thoughts of ghostly weddings faded away into the night.