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He was getting shouted at. Quite violently, actually, which was curious, since it was Ted who was shouting. He’d never thought that Ted would be shouting at anyone, much less himself. It made sense, since Trent had made the biggest mistake of his life. Asking the gaffer out on a date.
Yes, it had been a dumb move, but it wasn’t as if he’d wanted to! It’d just fallen out of his mouth, he supposed. He always had a problem with talking, saying too much or saying too little.
The reaction he’d had to Ted shouting was immediate. Shoulders bunched up, curling in on himself. It was the same position he opted for as a child when it was his father in front of him.
Anyway, it was a horrible feeling to see, out of everyone at Richmond, one of the people he loved most shout at him. It was borderline humiliating, even if they were alone. Trent’s office was now contaminated with a bad mood, it seemed, memories of Ted shouting at him would plague his space and make him flinch every time he went in to write. He couldn’t keep working there, could he? God, of course not.
After an excruciating 20 minutes, pregnant with insults and slurs that Ted would probably never say, Trent is sat under his office table, wide-eyed, trembling. His knees were up to his chest, and he was rocking back and forth just slightly.
Trent woke up in quite a mood. A mood that dissipated the second he saw his lovely grey maine coone in front of him. The frown changed into a smile, and with some coos and some head pats, he was quickly feeling much better. That wouldn’t change the fact that he had to get up in - he checked the clock - five minutes. Fuuuuucccckkkk. Whatever.
He stayed in bed with his baby boy, cooing and smiling, talking in the baby voice he always used when he was with him. Trent really didn’t want to get up, especially not after that horrid nightmare! God, he was still a bit shaken up by it. With a deep breath, and closing his eyes, he sat up slightly. His back still hurt, as it always did, but he’d hoped the pain might’ve lessened in the night. It didn’t.
He was surprised when he heard the door creak open, as no one was supposed to be home except him, and even more surprised when it wasn’t Fiona who had popped in for an early morning visit. Then again, he doubts she’d come over this early.
No, it was the love of his life. What the fuck. What was he doing here?
Oh. Bringing him breakfast in bed, it seemed. Biscuits. Trent’s never been so glad to realize that a nightmare wasn’t real. His face softens, if that was possible, and he smiles sleepily at him.
“I had the worst nightmare.”
“Did ya? I’m sorry, darlin’,”
He smiled even more at his boyfriend, always apologizing for things that weren’t in his control.
“Mm, not your fault. You made me breakfast?”
Ted grinned at that, clearly proud of himself. “Didn’t want you to be rushed this morning. No work, remember?”
“I did not. Thank you,” Trent stretched up as much as he could, with Kafka jumping off his chest, and pressed a kiss to Ted’s cheek, the stubble tickling slightly. He took advantage of the position to steal a few biscuits, humming as he ate them happily. The most wonderful man in Great Britain (and probably the world) had brought him breakfast in bed. How much luckier could he be?
Very lucky, it seems, as he spent the rest of the morning in bed with his boyfriend (who’d promptly not gotten out of his pajamas just so he wouldn’t get scolded for getting in bed with outside clothes on), cuddling and talking about anything and everything. What a lovely day.