Work Text:
Ted was under no illusions that he was a good person, and he was mostly fine with being considered a selfish bastard. After all, it was the truth. But even he had noticed that something was wrong with Paul, and it looked like it was getting progressively worse. The other man had always been a regular coffee drinker, especially since that one grumpy barista had started working at Beanie's. But the amount of the stuff that he was guzzling now had even Ted concerned.
It certainly didn't help that there were dark circles constantly under Paul's eyes, and his suits had started to hang just a little too loose. And somehow, Ted seemed to be the only person who had noticed. Which didn't say much about the observational skills of the others in the office.
He eventually decided not to say anything to Paul. It wasn't any of his business, and if Paul wanted him to know the other man would tell him. But he would keep an eye out, just in case. After all, Paul was one of his only friends.
Ted wasn't sure whose music was quietly playing in the office, but whatever it was the tune was catchy. Even Paul seemed to be absently humming along, which was strange as the other man avoided pretty much anything to do with music or singing. Then out of the corner of his eye, Ted saw Paul freeze in place before clamping a hand to his mouth and turning to hurry in the direction of the restroom.
And Ted barely bit back a curse, because just before Paul turned away he had seen a faint blue glow in the other man's wide, panicked eyes. A faint blue glow that exactly matched the yellow glow that Ted would sometimes see in his own eyes in the mirror. So he took a deep breath, told himself firmly that he could not in fact hear any fucking clocks ticking, and went after Paul.
He made it into the restroom just in time to see Paul collapse to his knees in front of the toilet and shove two fingers down his throat. He winced, reaching behind himself to lock the door so that no one else could come in and interrupt. Then he walked to the sink, trying not to listen to the sounds of Paul retching through panicked sobs, and filled one of the paper cups with water.
Once it sounded like Paul was finished throwing up, Ted took the cup and crouched down behind Paul. "Here, buddy. Rinse and spit, get the taste out of your mouth."
Paul jerked, hand slipping a bit from where he was still holding himself up over the toilet. "Ted?" He groaned, spitting once more into the toilet. "What are you doing in here?"
"Right now I'm giving you some water to rinse your mouth out, because it probably tastes nasty." Ted carefully waved the cup of water under Paul's nose until the other man finally took it and tentatively sipped, swishing the liquid around in his mouth before spitting it out. "Better. Now I'm going to ask you one question: did you realize that right before you came in here your eyes were glowing blue?"
Paul's eyes went wide, the still half-full cup of water slipping from his fingers as he suddenly turned back to the toilet and retched again.
Ted sighed, before grabbing the dropped cup and reaching out to awkwardly pat Paul's back. "Guess that answers that question. I thought that it was just me."
Paul wiped his mouth, flushed the toilet and glanced over at Ted, not bothering to rise from his knees. "This is happening to you, too?"
"Probably not exactly the same thing, but close enough." Ted refilled the paper cup and handed it back to Paul before moving to sit on the floor. "I keep hearing a clock ticking, and I know that it's counting down to some sort of unimaginable fucking horror. My reflection will suddenly start screaming and clawing at its own face, or my eyes will glow yellow." He shuddered. "And every now and then there's a creepy-ass voice whispering in my ear, calling me Teddy Bear and laughing like a freak. And it's fucking terrifying, and I don't even know why."
Paul rinsed his mouth out again and shifted off his knees to sit on the floor next to Ted. "I didn't realize that this was happening to anyone but me and Richie. Does it make me a bad person that I'm sort of relieved that we're not alone?"
Ted snorted a dry laugh. "Not exactly the best person to be asking that, Paul." He paused. "This is happening to your kid, too?"
"It doesn't seem quite so bad so far for Richie, thank goodness. He's having nightmares about being murdered by a ghost, but that seems to be about it. So far, at least."
Ted nodded, carefully not looking at Paul as he asked his next question. "And you? I don't think it's just nightmares that had you in here trying to expel your internal organs."
Paul fidgeted in silence for a long moment, fingers tangling together and teeth gnawing on his lower lip. "I can feel something inside me, sometimes, trying to take over my body. And I know that it's not actually there, that there isn't anything for me to throw up, but sometimes something triggers it and I can't seem to help it."
"What triggered it this time?"
Paul pulled his legs in and wrapped his arms around his upraised knees. "I wasn't paying attention, and I started humming along to Melissa's music. The spores, or whatever they are in my nightmares, always force me to sing, so...."
"So when you realized that you were humming along, it was too much." Ted sighed. "I get it, Paul. Before I broke the wall clock in my office I'd suddenly find myself hiding under my desk with my hands clamped over my ears because the ticking was too loud and I thought something was coming for me." He finally turned to face the other man. "But you've gotta do something, buddy. Between the coffee and the stress and the throwing up you're heading straight for a bleeding ulcer...or a heart attack."
"I know." Paul dropped his head so that his chin was resting on his knees. "But I don't know what to do. I've been trying to keep how bad it's gotten from Richie, but he's a smart kid and I think he's about ready to stage me an intervention." He chuckled, but the sound was more hysterical that anything else. "I can't sleep, so I drink too much coffee which just makes me even more anxious, and makes it even harder to sleep."
"You've been spiraling, Paul." Ted scooted closer and threw an arm around Paul's shoulders. "You were frankly an anxiety-ridden mess to begin with, buddy. This whole weirdness made it worse, the coffee isn't helping, and now you've been worrying about your kid. The fact that you haven't already broken down into a screaming, sobbing ball of trauma is a fucking miracle."
Paul huffed out a quiet laugh and his shoulders relaxed a bit. "I am actually aware of that, Ted. Still doesn't mean that I have any idea what to do about it."
"Look, the most important thing is to get you some real sleep." Ted glanced down at his watch. "It's almost time to leave anyway and it's Friday. You never leave early, so Mr. Davidson won't care if you go ahead and leave now, especially if you tell him you're sick. You go straight home, and no matter what do not stop at Beanie's to flirt badly with that barista. The last thing you need right now is more caffeine. I'll finish up here and meet you at your place."
"Ted, no. That's not necessary."
Ted snorted and ruffled Paul's already messy hair. "I'll decide what's necessary, you absolute noodle. I know I'm a selfish bastard, but you're my friend so I'm going to help. Whether you like it or not."
Paul glared at him weakly, but nodded. "All right. Thank you, Ted." He took a few moments to clean himself up, then slowly walked out of the bathroom with a quiet chorus of 'okays' muttered under his breath.
Once Paul was out of sight Ted dropped his head into his hands and tried not to scream. This was way above his pay grade, but the only other person Paul had to help him was the man's own teenage nephew who was going through something similar. Which meant that it was up to Ted to do his best to help, no matter how haphazard that ended up being. At the very least, Paul knew that he wasn't alone now. That had to count for something.
Ted took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet, intentionally ignoring the sight of a yellow cube floating around his reflection's head. Instead, he raised his middle finger at the mirror and deliberately turned his back on it before leaving the bathroom.
It only took about an hour for him to finish things at work, run home to change clothes and pick up a few supplies and make his way to Paul's house. He'd left a note for Pete where his brother would see it when he got back from his study date saying that Ted would be out all night and not to worry about him or burn the house down.
He frowned as Paul let him in. The other man had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but he looked like he'd been working himself up into a ball of tension and anxiety probably since the moment he'd left the bathroom at CCRP. His hair was sticking up in all directions like Paul had been constantly running his hands through it and there were visible impressions in his lower lip where he'd been chewing.
"Paul, you have got to try to relax. How about you go curl up on the couch, get comfortable and turn on whatever you like to watch on TV." He raised the bags that he was holding. "Meanwhile, I will go to the kitchen and whip us each up a Spankoffski special, guaranteed to help you relax. And before you ask, no booze or other illicit substances included."
Paul just looked at him for a moment before the other man slumped. "Okay, okay." He rubbed his hands over his face. "You're right, and by this point I'm about willing to try anything." He flashed Ted a weak smile, then headed into the living room.
It took Ted a little longer in the unfamiliar kitchen, but after about ten minutes he was walking into the living room with a milkshake in each hand. Paul, he was happy to see, had followed his instructions and was wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket in the corner of the couch, staring blankly at the television. Ted handed him one of the glasses with a flourish.
"Here you are, one Spankoffski special: a peppermint milkshake that's good for whatever ails you, at least according to Pete."
Paul took the glass with a faint smile, which grew wider after the first sip. "Wow, Ted. This is actually really good."
Ted smirked, taking a gulp of his own milkshake. "I told you, Paul. Now make room on the couch for me. We're going to watch TV until you stop looking like you're about to jump out of your own skin, and then we're going to order some takeout. And once you've eaten, we'll see about getting you some sleep."
"All right, I'll give it a try, Ted."
"Good." Once Paul had agreed Ted dropped onto the other side of the couch and finally took a closer look at what the other man had decided to watch. "Is this Cutthroat Kitchen? I love that show."
Hours later, filled with chicken noodle soup and another milkshake, Paul finally dropped off to sleep on the couch. Ted glanced over at him and dropped the volume on the TV, smiling when he heard Paul snore softly. He stretched his arm to where Paul had left his phone on the coffee table, quickly tapping in Paul's password. He fired off a quick text to Richie, telling the kid to be quiet when he finally got home since his uncle was asleep on the couch and Ted wanted him to stay that way.
Once he got an acknowledgment text from the teen he quietly placed the phone back on the table. Hopefully Paul would sleep through the night and things would look better in the morning. In the meantime, Ted would stay awake and keep watch and ignore the faint ticking that he could hear from somewhere behind him.