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Paul sits at the nurse’s station with his head propped in his hand, doing his best to keep his eyes open so he can read his textbook. He makes a note that’s only half legible on the paper next to him and turns the page, sitting up a little more and tucking his arm against his chest. “Left ventricle, right ventricle…”
He tries to name all the sections of the heart without looking at the guide, until a voice calls out, “You doing alright back there?”
Paul looks up to see Melissa peering over her shoulder at him. “Yeah. Just trying to get some studying in now that my rounds are over.”
Gesturing with the pencil, he adds before he can stop himself, “I can go if I’m bothering you-”
“Oh, you’re not. It’s just rarely ever good when doctors are quiet.”
Paul chuckles under his breath, mustering a wry smile. “Well, I’m not a doctor yet, technically. Fingers crossed.”
He glances back at the textbook as he makes another note. “I haven’t even treated a patient alone before. And we should all consider ourselves lucky for that.”
Melissa laughs as the tell-tale scratch of her chair’s wheels on the floor says she turns back to her computer. “Give yourself some credit! You wouldn’t even be on the floor if they didn’t trust you.”
“I know. At least somewhat, anyway.”
Just as Paul really gets back to studying, rapid footsteps appear from down the hall and stop in front of him. Paul looks up at arguably his closest friend in the hospital. “Uh, hey, Bill.”
“Paul! I’m so glad I found you. Listen, could you cover for me? I have an appointment coming up, but Alice’s school just called and it sounds like she’s sick-”
“Oh, then yeah, of course.” Paul drops his pencil to kick back his chair. “Do you have the chart?”
Bill slumps a little against the desk and hands him the chart. “Here. I know it’s sudden and you’re obviously busy-”
“My textbooks aren’t going anywhere. You should be with your daughter.” Standing, Paul glances at the chart as he pushes his chair in. “What can you tell me about the patient?”
“Well, his name’s Peter, but call him ‘Pete’, he likes that. He’s just coming in for his annual check up - his mother usually brings him in, she can give you the other details. I really should go.”
“Yeah, go ahead. I got this.” Paul waves as Bill hurries toward the exit. “Tell Alice to get well soon!”
Making sure his things are in order, he puts the chart down just long enough to shrug on his coat, fixing his ID badge on the chest. He catches Melissa eyeing him, and hears how she mutters as she turns away, “‘Not a doctor yet’, he says…”
Paul lightly rolls his eyes, ducking past the desk to start walking away. “Still my first appointment without supervision!”
“I’ll send the cavalry if you’re not back in thirty minutes!”
Paul chuckles and shakes his head, then he focuses on trying to find the right exam room. He double-checks on the chart once he thinks he’s reached it and walks in, shutting the door behind him. “O-Kay.”
Looking up, he instantly spots the little boy sitting on the exam table. He looks nervous, so Paul gives him a smile that he hopes is disarming. “Hi. You must be Pete.”
“M-hm.” Pete nods, fixing his glasses when they slip down his nose. “Where’d Dr. Bill go?”
“Dr. Woodward is busy right now.”
A new voice asks, “What, so you drew the short straw?”
Paul startles for only a second, then he looks over at the man leaning against the wall - clearly related to Pete, even if Paul could honestly use a refresher on his punnet squares. “Um, I’d rather not call it that, but sure.”
“Hm. You’re new, aren’t you?”
Before Paul can answer, the man tilts his head, apparently reading Paul’s badge. “Ah. Alright, Student Doctor Matthews. Congrats on getting off your leash.”
“Thanks…”
“Teddy,” Pete says, with as much reproach as a kindergartener can muster. “Mama said you have to be nice.”
‘Teddy’ takes his hands out of his pockets to raise them. “Was that not nice?”
When Pete makes a stubborn little pout, he sighs, but he’s wearing a crooked smile as he offers Paul a hand. “Let me clear this up; I’m Ted, I’m the squirt’s brother. Promise I wasn’t trying to be a jerk - a lot of people would say I don’t have to try, but still.”
Paul huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his hand. “I’ll take your word for it. So long as you don’t tell anyone I’m here - I haven’t exactly been cleared to perform exams yet.”
He’s not too sure why he would admit that, but it all works out when Ted laughs. “Secret’s safe with us, man.”
Nodding, Paul puts the chart aside to grab gloves from the dispenser by the door. He puts them on and leans over to skim the chart before he asks Pete, “How old are you?”
Pete holds up a little hand. “I’m five.”
“And growin’ like a weed,” Ted adds. “If that tells you anything.”
Paul chuckles, grabbing the chart again. “That does seem to line up with Dr. Woodward’s notes, here…Just a routine exam, he said?”
He waits for a nod from both of them and adds, “But apparently Pete is Diabetic, which I should look out for.”
Ted says, “Yeah, he’s Type 1. I’m in charge of his insulin most of the time, so if you got any questions, just ask.”
Paul tries to mask his surprise as he opens one of the drawers. “I was told your mother normally handles these appointments.”
“So you thought she did everything? Eh, she tries, but I’m used to picking up the slack.” Ted shrugs and looks at Pete. “No offense, kid.”
Pete responds by sticking out his tongue, and Paul admittedly has to stifle a laugh as Ted makes a show of rolling his eyes. Grabbing a pen-light, Paul moves in front of Pete. “Okay, I just need you to take off your glasses for a second.”
As soon as Pete takes off his glasses, Ted leans over to swipe them away. “Those aren’t insured. I’m not taking chances.”
“I can hold them.”
“You can’t even hold a juice box.”
Pete pouts again, and Paul chuckles under his breath as he turns the light on. “Open your eyes nice and big for me, Pete. Can you do that?”
He does a quick check of Pete’s eyes, ears and mouth and notes the results on the chart. A quick test of the bones is next, then they move over to the scale in the corner. Checking that everything lines up, Paul looks at the result and says, “Looks like you’ve grown over three and a half inches since your last check-up.”
Propping an elbow on the counter, Ted gestures with his free hand. “What’d I say? The kid’s a weed!”
Paul bites back another laugh, ushering Pete off the scale. “Rapid growth spurts are common at this age. And good height genetics apparently run in the family.”
Bouncing a little, Pete says, “Mama says one day I could be bigger than Teddy.”
This time Paul actually does laugh when Ted mutters, “Don’t push it, squirt.”
After measuring Pete’s weight, Paul lets Ted put him back on the exam table while he grabs the blood pressure cuff. Even as he straps it to Pete’s arm, the kid whines, “I don’t like this part.”
“You don’t like any part,” Ted says, back in his spot against the wall. “But Mom would kill me if I let you skip any of it, so you just gotta hold out. Remember, deep breaths.”
He waves a hand, and Pete takes in a deep breath just as Paul starts inflating the cuff. Pete slowly lets out another breath, and Paul notices how his eyes never leave Ted. It’s nice, in a way, to have a patient’s relative be so supportive - even with kids not much older than Pete, he’s sat in on a few appointments with less-than-stellar parents or whoever. But, well, Bill would have warned him if that was the case here.
“Attaboy,” Ted says after Paul takes the cuff off. “You’re almost done.”
Pete shakes his arm a little and rubs it. “I wanna be done now.”
Paul can’t help but smile, while Ted chuckles and leans over to ruffle the kid’s hair. “I know, squirt. Trust me.”
“Your brother’s right, we’re nearly there,” Paul says, putting the blood pressure cuff away. “I’m just going to check your glucose levels and give you your flu shot.”
“Mmph!”
“He doesn’t like needles,” Ted says over Pete’s somehow audible pouting. “You’d think he’d be used to it ‘cause he takes insulin every day, but I don’t know, man. Kids are weird.”
Paul chuckles as he fishes a lancet from another drawer. “Well, it’s not exactly fun, is it? Let me just find the glucometer…”
He gathers all the supplies and gets a drop of blood from Pete’s finger - with surprisingly little complaint, honestly. Reading the results on the test strip, Paul compares it to what’s on the chart and says, “Glucose looks normal. I’ll just patch that up for you-”
With the bandaids already out, he opens a dinosaur-themed one and wraps it around Pete’s finger. “There. And now for the shot.”
He moves to ready the needle, while Pete whines again. “Teddy-”
Ted shushes him and says, “It’ll be over soon.”
Paul checks the needle and puts it aside to ready Pete’s arm for the shot. Cleaning the skin with a wipe, he asks, “How does Dr. Woodward usually handle this?”
Pete just grumbles, but when Ted lightly nudges his shoulder, he says, “He makes me count to ten.”
“Okay. Is that what you want?”
When Pete shakes his head, it’s another moment where Paul has to mask his surprise. He asks, “So then what?”
“I want Teddy to do it.”
“Oh. Um, that’s - Wait.” Paul cuts himself off, staring at the wall for a hot second before he looks at Ted. “You said you’re in charge of his insulin?”
“Usually.”
“So he’s more comfortable with you doing this?”
Ted blinks and looks at Pete, who’s giving him possibly the biggest puppy eyes ever. “Y’know, I didn’t think of that. Uh, am I supposed to-”
“I shouldn’t be here without supervision. Another broken rule can’t hurt.” Paul reaches to grab the syringe. “And there’s nothing that explicitly says only a doctor can admister the shot…”
Just to be sure, he asks Pete, “Would you feel better if your brother did it?”
Pete nods so fast he has to fix his glasses again. “M-hm!”
Paul looks back at Ted, and he shrugs and takes off his jacket. “Give me a second.”
He leaves his jacket on a nearby chair and sits next to Pete on the exam table. “Alright, scoot over, kid. Come on.”
Paul watches as they shuffle around almost like it’s practiced - which, granted, it probably is in a way. Once Ted gives him a thumbs up, Paul hands over the syringe. “I don’t have to tell you how to use this.”
“Nope.” Ted checks the syringe - even if Paul already did that himself, he can understand the extra precaution - and lines up his shot. “Hey, Petey, what kind of dinosaur is that?”
Pete looks at the bandaid on his finger. “A triceratops.”
“Carnivore or herbivore?”
“Herb-i-vore.”
“Not your favorite, though, right?”
Keeping his eyes straight in front of him, Pete shakes his head. “I like the ptero-dac-tyl.”
Ted hums and looks at Paul. “He says that now. It changes every other week.”
Paul stifles a laugh with his hand, while Ted removes the syringe from Pete’s arm. “All done! And you didn’t even flinch, look at that.”
Pete blinks and looks around like he didn’t even realize he got the shot. “Oh.”
“Here, let me-” Paul steps closer to take the syringe from Ted. “And you can patch him up, if that’s what you’re both used to.”
“Aw, I must be special if you’re letting me play with so many of your toys.”
Even if he rolls his eyes, Paul bites back another smile, going to dispose of the syringe. “Don’t get used to it. Dr. Woodward is one of the best people I know, but he’s also a professional.”
“And you’re not?”
“I’m in my last year of med school. They let me have some leniency.”
Dropping the syringe in the disposal bin, Paul turns back to see Ted flicking through the bandaid options. With a shrug, Ted says, “I’d have thought you just look good in the white coat.”
Paul presses his lips together and tells himself he’s imagining how warm he suddenly is. He stares at a random point on the floor until he finds the strength to look up and say, as diplomatically as possible, “That’s a matter of opinion.”
He can see how Ted’s eyes flick towards him in a split second once-over. Even when it lasts that long, somehow Paul’s face still burns, while Ted goes back to looking at bandaids. “Yeah, sure it is.”
Paul lifts his gaze toward the ceiling and silently thanks God for the fact that he can leave in just a few more minutes. He grabs the chart to make sure Bill signed off on the appointment - because of course he can’t - but he looks up long enough to see Ted dabbing Pete’s arm with a cotton ball and putting on another dinosaur-themed bandaid. “What’s this one?”
Just like Ted did earlier, Pete makes a show of rolling his eyes, even as he smiles. “You know that one!”
“Excuse me for making conversation.”
Pete lightly swats at Ted’s leg, and Ted does the same to him, then they both stick their tongues out. Ted mimes the shape of horns with his fingers, and Pete laughs and starts rattling off about whatever dinosaur is on the new bandaid - meanwhile, Paul is just focused on how Ted looks at the kid like he could’ve hung the moon.
Lightly clearing his throat, Paul turns his attention back to the chart. He tugs at the collar of his coat just to keep his other hand busy, but then he remembers Ted’s words and suddenly it’s to relieve the pressure on his burning neck. He wills himself to keep it together and puts the chart down to go dispose of his gloves, thinking over what he should tell Bill about the appointment.
This would be a good reason why he needs supervision.
///
Paul is unceremoniously woken up by nails clicking on the table and a voice saying, “Rise and shine, loser.”
Groaning under his breath, Paul lifts his head just enough to prop it in his hand. “Sorry, Emma.”
“No apologies necessary. Just clear out when I say so, you know the drill.” Waving it off, Emma holds out a Beanie’s cup. “Here’s your coffee that might as well be an adrenaline shot.”
Paul huffs out a tired laugh and grabs the cup. “Thanks.”
While he takes a drink, he can hear Emma moving the chair across from him. She says, “So studying is still a nightmare, huh?”
“Well, I don’t wanna say it’s not worth getting my degree at the end of the road-” Paul tips his head in a shrug. “But I don’t think I’ve slept a full night since high school, if that tells you anything.”
Emma laughs as he sips his coffee again. “Oh, yeah, it explains a lot.”
She leans over, resting her arms on the back of that other chair. “But are you sure it’s just that and not the guy from last week keeping you up?”
Paul groans again, letting his head fall back on his own chair. “I shouldn’t have told you anything.”
“I’m your best friend! Your only friend, really, but-”
“You know that’s not the way to get me to talk.”
Emma chuckles and briefly raises her hands in surrender. “The point is, I’m here for you. Even if my methods could use some work.”
Paul musters a wry smile to match hers, but he says as he smooths down the edge of the sleeve on his coffee cup, “There’s nothing to tell, though. He’s just a patient’s brother - We didn’t even talk that much.”
“That doesn’t always matter. The heart wants what it wants.”
“Don’t use that cliché on me.” Paul flashes a light-hearted glare, waiting for Emma to mime zipping her lip before he turns his attention back to his coffee. “It’s just limerence, Emma.”
“It’s what?”
“Obsessive infatuation. I can get hooked on small things and turn them into something bigger.” Paul gestures vaguely with his free hand. “It hasn’t happened often, especially since I started med school, but it’s a form of escapism. I can’t be surprised that I need that right now.”
Emma nods slowly, clapping her hand on the back of that chair. “…How do you know it’s not just a crush? Is there a difference?”
“Yes.”
“I’m just saying ‘obsessive infatuation’ sounds like a crush to me-”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
Emma raises her hands and backs away, turning to duck behind the counter. While she starts making an order for the next customer, Paul looks at his notes scattered across the table and sighs. “Where was I?”
He combs through the papers, trying to find the one he used last. He takes another sip of coffee for the extra boost, peeking one eye open at the sound of the bell above the door and nearly choking when he sees who walks in. “Fuck. Fuck-”
Abandoning the search for his notes, he ducks before he can even really think about it, peering out from behind the table just enough to watch as Ted strolls up to the counter and rings the bell. Emma calls out, sliding the drink she made to that other customer, “Be right with you!”
Paul waits until it’s obvious that Ted is busy watching her to cautiously emerge from his hiding spot. He blindly grabs for his pencil and just starts drawing random shapes on the nearest paper he can reach - any excuse to keep his head down. He just has to pray that he won’t be noticed.
Once Emma catches up to Ted, Paul half-listens to their small talk as he tries to focus on his doodles. At some point, he realizes that he really should try to find his notes, and he stands to get a better view of the table as he moves more papers. The universe must be against him today, though, because his pencil ends up rolling onto the floor and somehow finds enough momentum to stop right at Ted’s feet.
Paul hasn’t even tipped yet, but for a split second, he considers leaving anyway.
He watches as Ted looks at the pencil and moves to pick it up. Of course he looks right at Paul next, and his eyes light up with recognition. “Well, if it isn’t Student Doctor Matthews.”
“Yeah,” Paul says, his mouth somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “Can I have my pencil back?”
Ted throws the pencil, and he catches it, briefly wiping it on his jacket. “Thank you.”
“Hm. So they let you out of the hospital?”
“‘Let me’. Sure, I was released on good behavior.”
When Ted laughs, it’s like electricity dances over Paul’s skin. Clearing his throat, he sets the pencil back on the table. “I’m just trying to study, if that isn’t obvious…somehow.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
“How, um, how is Pete doing?”
Technically Pete isn’t even his patient, so Paul briefly wants to kick himself, but Ted just shrugs. “He’s fine. He’s at school right now - it’s actually my turn to pick him up today. If he gets paint in my car again, I’m gonna kill him.”
While he gets out his wallet, Paul chuckles. “Well, I’m a mandatory reporter, so I guess just tell me when to look the other way.”
“Aren’t you supposed to live by ‘first do no harm’?”
“That says nothing about outside sources.”
“God, where did they find you? Doctors shouldn’t be fun.”
It’s Paul’s turn to shrug, as he says, “Technically I’m not a doctor yet.”
Ted raises an eyebrow as he throws a tip in the jar. “So will you be boring once you get your MD?”
Paul laughs into his hand. “I know a few people who would say I’m boring now.”
“Eh, you’re not so bad.”
That’s really such a simple thing to say, but it sounds warm enough to make Paul’s heart skip a beat. He’s saved - or doomed - by Emma coming to slide Ted’s drink across the counter. “Order up!”
Ted catches the drink and holds out a few more bills. “Thanks, crabby barista.”
Emma rolls her eyes even as she moves to take the money. “Just know if you ever say ‘buy yourself something nice’, I’m dumping that over your head.”
“Parting is such sweet sorrow. Later.” Ted throws up a peace sign, but he only takes one step away from the counter before he turns to Paul. “And hey, Technically-Not-A-Doctor Matthews?”
“Yeah?”
“I think the bags under your eyes should pay rent. Get some sleep, man.”
Emma doubles over against the counter, clearly trying - and failing - not to laugh. Paul leaves her to that and just gives Ted a thumbs up. “Consider it done.”
Ted shoots him a finger-gun in return and keeps walking, until-
“It’s ’Paul’, by the way.”
It has never been more obvious that Paul is still half-asleep, because he’s never this talkative. He bites his tongue hard enough to sting, while Ted backtracks to face him again. “Sorry, what?”
“You read my ID back at the hospital, so maybe you know - you probably don’t remember-” Paul waves it off, maybe a little too quickly. “‘Technically-Not-A-Doctor’ will only be funny once. My name is Paul.”
Ted tilts his head slightly, eyeing him just like he did back in the exam room. “‘Paul’. Okay.”
He flashes a lazy grin that has Paul’s heart racing, and then he’s gone.
Paul waits for the final ding of the bell to tell him the door is closed before he doubles over the table and lets out a heavy breath. He grabs his coffee and knocks back a shot of it like whiskey, dropping back into his seat and letting his head fall on the table.
He turns his head at the sound of footsteps, watching as Emma moves as close as she can get behind the counter. “What?”
“Is Ted the guy?”
“No comment.”
While Paul presses his face into the table and wishes he was anywhere but here, Emma makes an incomprehensible noise. “Paul!”
“Don’t ’Paul’ me.”
“Zoe, I’m taking my break!”
Paul silently curses every deity he can think of, listening as Emma runs around behind the counter. Her footsteps come back over to him, and she puts a hand on his shoulder. “Are you still alive?”
“Only ironically.”
“Aw, poor you.”
Waiting until Emma moves that other chair again, Paul finally lifts his head. “Whatever you wanna say, say it.”
Resting her elbows on the back of the chair, Emma gestures vaguely. “I just…really? Ted?”
“And what’s the problem, exactly?”
“I’ve known him - or at least of him - since high school. He was always a huge flirt - not really a successful one, but still.”
“Either he’s gotten better or I am a weak man.”
“Oh, I think it’s both, honestly.”
Paul rubs his temple, while Emma circles the table to grab his shoulder again. “Paul, are you sure this is just limerence, or whatever it is?”
“Are you hoping it isn’t? Because it doesn’t seem like you and Ted get along all that well.”
“We tolerate each other. But I’d be much more willing to put up with him if he’s good to you, and it seems like that’s the case.”
“Emma, he just learned my first name.”
“Everybody’s gotta start somewhere.”
Paul sighs again, and Emma lightly squeezes his shoulder. “I just want you to be happy. You know that, right?”
Paul looks at her, with her rare, most sincere eyes, and instantly softens a little. “I do. But chances are we’ll probably never see each other again, so…”
He lifts his free hand in a shrug. “Pick your battles, Em.”
Emma looks at him for a beat longer before she nods. “Okay. I’m going back to work.”
She claps Paul’s shoulder, and he watches as she goes back to the counter. “Your break just started.”
“It’s rush-hour!”
Paul glances around at the only other four or so customers in Beanie’s, but he just shakes his head before he can even think to argue. He grabs his pencil and goes back to sorting his notes; he’s too tired for anything else.
///
“Hey, Paul?”
Paul looks up from his textbook at Melissa. “Yeah?”
“Time to head home. Be happy you haven’t picked up the graveyard shift yet.”
Paul blinks and looks at the clock on the wall behind him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Melissa asks as he kicks back his chair, “Do you need any help with-”
“No, I’ve got it.”
Melissa goes to check something on her computer, while Paul sets to work packing his things. He gets his bag onto his shoulder and, like he does every night, instinctively grabs at his chest pocket. He freezes when he comes up empty. “What-?”
He starts checking his other pockets, and Melissa turns to ask, “What’s wrong?”
Paul looks at her, trying not to panic. “I can’t find my ID badge.”
“Oh, no! Are you sure it isn’t in your locker?”
“I’m too paranoid for that. I always bring it home.”
Melissa holds her hands to her heart with obvious sympathy, and Paul paces in a small circle. He takes a measured breath, letting it out before he tells her, “You can go. I’ll find it.”
Even if she looks reluctant, Melissa steps away. “If you say so. Good luck!”
She waves, and Paul waves back, watching her head toward the exit. He lets out another breath and keeps looking, first under the nurse’s station and then in his bag, then he does it all over again. When he still can’t find his badge, he stands in the middle of the station giving it one last once-over, holding the arm of his bag so hard the leather bites into his skin. “Where the hell did-”
“Looking for this?”
Paul whirls around to see Ted with an elbow propped on the counter, the badge dangling between his fingers. Paul swipes the badge without a second thought, pinning it to his jacket pocket. “How did you-?”
“Pete’s on a hide and seek kick. I don’t know, I’m good at finding stuff.”
“Well, thanks. Really.” Paul makes sure his badge is secure and musters a smile, but then the adrenaline starts to fade and he blinks. “What are you doing here, though? It’s almost midnight.”
Ted raises a hand in a shrug. “I was in the neighborhood, figured I’d stop by.”
“The hospital?”
“Hey, however a man wants to spend his time, that’s his business.”
“…Right.”
When Paul moves to leave, Ted quickly catches up with him. “Okay, seriously, I was hoping I’d find you. I just wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
“I never said thanks, you know, for letting me help out with Pete during his check-up. Like I said, he hates needles, but I should’ve known he’d be more comfortable with me.” Ted stops walking and puts a hand out for Paul to do the same. There’s something particularly genuine in his voice as he says, “And you played it off, we both did, but I’m sure you really could’ve gotten in trouble. So…thank you.”
Paul listens to his heart thrum a good few times before he says, “I’d do it again if a patient needed me to.”
Ted smiles, softer than he’s ever been before and almost tentative. “You’re gonna be a great doctor.”
Paul toys a little with the arm of his bag, his pulse still fluttering through his wrist. “Well, I try.”
Before he can inevitably shoot himself in the foot like last time, he turns to keep walking. But then-
“‘Limerence’, huh?”
Paul freezes and slowly turns back around. “What did Emma tell you?”
“Not everything.” Ted waves it off. “…Most of it - But not everything.”
“She knows I have a list of things that could kill her, right?”
“First do no harm! You said that still applied to you!”
“And in the interest of that, I’m going home and putting the deadbolt on.”
Ted appears in front of Paul in a blink, stopping him again almost as soon as he starts moving. “Just let me talk first?”
A small part of Paul is tempted to say that they’ve already been talking, but instead he gestures for Ted to speak. “I’m listening.”
“Okay, I still don’t really understand the whole ‘limerence’ thing, and I’ve been reading up on it since Emma called me - I don’t even know how she got my number. I’m not asking questions.” Ted holds a hand to his heart, the other one still on Paul’s shoulder. “But there’s gotta be a line somewhere. How long is limerence supposed to last?”
Paul keeps his focus on Ted’s eyes and not the hand burning against his shoulder. “However long it wants to. I don’t really get a choice in the matter.”
“But if you did-”
“Would I choose you, is that the question?”
Paul is almost surprised with how easily that came out of his mouth. When Ted throws a hand out in another shrug, Paul’s answer is just as simple. “Maybe.”
Ted tilts his head, laughing a little as he echoes, “‘Maybe’?”
“I could say ‘no’ if that’s more definitive for you.”
Paul isn’t entirely sure if he meant that - or if he even wanted to mean it - so he’s a little relieved when Ted laughs again. “Oh, I knew I liked you for a reason!”
Suddenly Paul’s face burns just as much as his shoulder. He lightly shrugs Ted’s hand off and passes him to keep walking. “We have to go before the night shift gets here.”
Ted meets him at the exit and asks as they pass through the automatic doors, “Are you just pretending you’re not interested?”
“Who said I was interested? Besides Emma.”
“I have eyes. Despite whatever she probably told you, my track record isn’t perfect or anything-” Ted all-but slides in front of Paul, leaning with a hand on one of the little markers just outside the exit. “But I can still see when my winning charms actually do win, y’know? Like, if I just-”
Using the marker as leverage, he steps directly into Paul’s space, to the point where their noses are almost touching. Paul is briefly tempted to swallow his tongue, and with his heartbeat now thundering in his ears, he knows he’s definitely been found out. He can’t see much more than Ted’s eyes, but he can hear the smile when Ted all-but whispers, “Caught ya.”
“…It’s times like these when I wish I didn’t park at the end of the lot.”
Ted laughs again, all bright and warm like he has no idea what he’s doing - but of course, he does. He lets Paul duck past him again and just keeps following behind. “So now that we’re on the same page, let’s talk ‘next steps’.”
“Or we can forget this conversation ever happened.”
“Too little, too late.”
Paul gets his keys from his pocket and unlocks his car, following the ‘beep’ to his parking spot. “To be honest, not to say it’s happened a lot, but this is the worst way someone has tried to pick me up.”
Ted falls into step with him in just another blink. “So you’re saying there’s a chance.”
“None of those words are mine.”
“Alright, but can I just ask one more question?”
Paul can see his car not even a few feet away; in theory he could just run. But he stops and turns to Ted before he’s even really dismissed the idea. “Okay.”
Ted steps closer, not as far as before, but Paul can still feel how the distance between them shrinks. Ted asks, his voice quiet again, “Does it matter - at all - that I feel the same way?”
He’s made himself clear - blatantly, even - so that really shouldn’t give Paul butterflies the way it does. He toys with the arm of his bag again until he finds his voice. “…I’m not looking for a relationship right now. And I don’t know what I’m going to do if it doesn’t work.”
And there Ted is back in his space, asking, “What if it does?”
For a second Paul is convinced he forgets how to breathe. “I thought you were done asking questions.”
Ted chuckles, and that’s when Paul realizes he’s holding the collar of his jacket. “Okay. No more talking.”
Suddenly they’re kissing and it’s like all of Paul’s nerves are on fire. After what feels like forever but is probably not even a minute, they stumble away from each other - it takes everything Paul has not to drop his keys. “Ted…”
Blinking until it feels like the world is in focus again, he looks at Ted, who says, gesturing, “Okay, that I at least know I’m good at.”
“Shut up.”
This time when Ted laughs, it only takes a second before Paul joins him. Putting a hand on his head, he says, “I don’t - I don’t know what to say anymore.”
“I do. Give me your phone.”
Paul gets out his phone and hands it over, getting one back in return. A pointedly raised eyebrow from Ted gets him to realize what’s happening, and he fumbles to put his number in, saying as they swap phones again, “This feels like the end to one of those romantic comedies Emma likes to make fun of.”
“Better, though, right?”
“Remains to be seen.”
“You are so hard to impress. But that’s fine; I like a challenge.” Putting his phone away, Ted moves closer just enough to tilt Paul’s chin up with his hand. “Once you’re hopefully awake enough to process this, assuming you won’t just delete my number…call me?”
Paul smiles, for once letting the burn on his face settle under his skin. “I will. Goodnight.”
Ted beams back at him, another rare, genuine smile. “‘Night.”
After another brief kiss, they turn and go off in opposite directions. Paul is only a few steps away from his car when Ted calls out, “Hate to see you go but love to watch you leave!”
“Don’t push it!”
Paul rolls his eyes when Ted laughs, but he can admit that it’s at least mostly fond. He gets in the car and turns on the overhead light to see his reflection in the rearview; he really does look tired, on top of still being a little red after…well, everything that just happened. Shrugging his bag off his shoulder, he throws it in the passenger seat. “Last night I slept on the couch, so let’s see if I make it to bed this time.”
As he turns the headlights on and puts the key in, his phone chimes with a text. Taking it out, he sees it’s a message from Ted: just the snoring emoji. Paul huffs out a laugh under his breath, watching through the window as another car passes behind him and turns onto the road. “Yeah, if I’m lucky.”
Leaving his phone on the other seat with his bag, he turns the key in the ignition. Just as he’s about to press the gas, though, he realizes something. “Emma will never let me live this down.”
After a second, he tips his head in a shrug. “Worth it.”
And with that, before he can risk falling asleep at the wheel, he starts driving home.