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Ted's eyes are closed. He's not asleep, neither is he entirely awake. Instead, he's simply drifting in that blissful moment where everything is quiet, peaceful in that way you only experience when your mind isn't fully tuned into the waking world just yet. A time where all that can be heard is the morning songs of birds by the window, the faint murmurs of life on the street outside and no more quiet snores that lulled Ted to sleep the night before- now there's a thought that begins to set off those early morning alarm bells.
It takes a moment for all the pieces to fall into place. To remember that he most positively did not fall asleep alone last night. His sleep-addled brain may be hazy, but he'd be hard pressed to forget the way Trent (Crimm, no longer independent) had looked as he climbed into bed beside him for the very first time in their still new relationship.
His hair was pulled back into a low bun, a collection of stray strands tickling the nape of his neck in a way that had Ted itching to reach out and stroke his fingers along the sensitive skin. A pair of glasses, the very same ones that had first led Ted to disarm the journalist with an unexpected compliment, were tucked safely away on the coach's bedside table. The man had looked so blissfully at home in Ted’s space, wearing a t-shirt so worn he could no longer decipher the logo sitting at it's centre and a pair of ill-fitting joggers that were just a smidgen too loose in the waist to be his own, that it left the other man more than a little lost for words.
With all that in mind, Ted finds it highly suspicious, with the threat of disappointment lingering along the edges of his mind, that the bed beside him is not only empty, but verging on cold.
As luck would have it, before the American is able to delve too deeply into his growing worries, the sound of keys in his front door breaks the overwhelming silence of his home. It doesn't take long for a dishevelled looking Trent to sheepishly enter the bedroom, still in last night's sleep attire.
Opening his mouth to speak, Ted is caught short as Trent launches into a ramble more befitting himself than the ex-journalist in front of him, an ex-journalist whose voice is beginning to sound much less put together than he's ever heard before.
"There may have been a minor moment of panic this morning when I woke up. And I’ll admit that I may have let that panic get the better of me, and I- well I ran away.” Trent admits, wincing as he stumbles over his own words. Ted remains silent, watching his partner wordlessly from his place on the bed, though the lack of words do nothing to hinder the series of emotions that are displayed openly on his face.
“But I didn't get far. A-and I came back with breakfast." Trent rushes to add, raising his hands to show a cup holder containing two precariously placed to-go coffee cups, and a small paper bag that Ted recognises from the café just downstairs.
Trent sighs deeply, raising his hand in an aborted motion as he remembers the bag clutched tightly between his fingers. Ted recognises the motion for what it was meant to be, Trent running his fingers through his hair, a mindless action as he prepares to open himself up in a way that makes him vulnerable. A state that Trent isn’t exactly well-versed in.
"I haven't had this," Trent waves the brown bag haphazardly between himself and Ted, "in a long time. It's only been a few weeks, and I am painfully aware that this is much too early, but I can feel myself growing attached." He pauses for a breath, or maybe he needs a moment to find his words. Ted has never seen him so unsure of himself, so devoid of his usual confident swagger. Even in their most intimate moments, Trent has maintained that air of surety in himself. Ted finds himself a little in awe and more than a little disarmed at this peek behind the curtain of Trent's insecurities and the deep, unapologetic trust that this clearly shows.
"We don't know what will happen. If you win it all, like I believe you can, will you want to go back to Kansas, back to Henry?"
Ted feels himself moving before he makes the decision to approach Trent, his mouth half open around the beginnings of a response.
"Please, please don't answer that.” Trent holds his arm out, signalling for Ted to stop. “I'm not trying to give you an ultimatum at 7 o'clock in the morning, Ted, I promise you that. This morning as I lay in your bed, with your arm draped over me, I cycled through all the things that could make this, make us , fail. All the ways this could break, not only my heart, but yours as well. But do you know what I realised?" There’s a subtle smile on the ex-journalist’s voice, a quiet whisper of a thing that Ted doesn’t think anyone else would recognise.
"What did you realise, Trent?” He answers the smile in kind, taking another step towards the man that has wormed his way in Ted’s heart.
"None of that changes anything.” Trent says simply. “Even if you leave. Even if we don't work out for any manner of reasons. It doesn't change the fact that I want this. I want to wake up next to you, Ted. I want to cook dinner with you and do the dishes with you. Watch all your silly rom-coms that I know you love and learn your takeaway orders. I want to kiss you goodnight, and in the morning I want to bring you coffee and breakfast in bed.” He huffs a laugh as he raises the items in his hands yet again. “I want to share my newspaper with you and steal food from your plate. I want all of those little moments for as long as I can have them, regardless of the outcome.” Trent lets out a breath, expelling all the tension he’s let build up ever since he woke up.
"Well how about that?" A pink hue has settled deep on Ted’s cheeks as he rests his hands on Trent's hips, holding him close. "That there is an awful lotta thinking for 7 in the mornin’." He can’t resist teasing the slightly shorter man, both sharing a soft smile.
"You need to know, I'm all in, Ted, wherever it leads us."
"It's mighty fine to hear you say that, Trent. ‘Cause you're stuck with me now. Don't ya know coffee, pastries and big ol’ emotional speeches are the way to this man's heart?"
Ted takes advantage of Trent’s lack of hands to press a soft kiss to the other man’s nose, revelling in the way it scrunches and a deep blush spreads over his cheeks.
“You’re a menace, Coach Lasso from America.”
“Ah, but I have it on pretty good authority that you’ve grown attached to me, Trent Crimm, my dependant, regardless of my menace status.”