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Ted liked the new Starman who was filling in. David, he had said he name was. He had been under no obligation to introduce himself to Ted, let alone unmask. Let alone keep visiting him after Charles went back to his own city. Especially not with Ted in the state he was currently in.
David came every day for at least a few minutes. The staff confirmed that he had come even on days Ted was catatonic and didn’t remember it. He was a little older than Ted and had let it slip that he was at least a hobbyist scientist, which gave them something to talk about when David didn’t want to tell Ted about his work as Starman. He would squeeze Ted’s shoulder and tell him to just focus on getting better when he decided it was for the best that Ted didn’t hear about whatever had happened. He had gone from calling Ted ‘Mr. Knight’ in a formal way to calling him ‘Ted’ like a friend.
David was a handsome man. Ted had never… he had never been that way but looked a little like Doris had, with his warm brown eyes and light brown hair. Ted didn’t know where he recognized David’s nose from (and would never suspect it was from the mirror), but that too was familiar. Everything about David seemed familiar.
Maybe that was why Ted responded to the hints he thought he saw, applying intention to David’s actions and words where it didn’t exist. Maybe that was why, when Ted was absolutely sure they were alone, he kissed him.
David looked (enough) like Doris. David reminded him (enough) of Doris. Doris was… she was… but David was here. David was supportive and alive and here. So, Ted had laid his hand on David’s strong shoulder, taken in those beautiful brown eyes and kissed him.
David was recoiling, like he had been burned, like Ted had uranium on his lips, like he was being shot, like he was seeing a mushroom cloud. He had fear in his eyes, stepping away from Ted until he was several feet away, turning away from him. There had been disgust on his face. He practically was shivering.
Ted should have known he couldn’t trust his mind. He should have realized he couldn’t trust himself to read anyone correctly, when even his equations weren’t always something he could keep straight.
“You don’t— We can’t— You’ll regret this. I can’t let you do this,” David was saying, not looking at Ted and instead looking over the city they both loved.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.” David’s voice was firm, resolute like he knew something Ted didn’t.
He must have been giving Ted an easy out, or making an explanation of what happened for himself. Ted Knight was a sick man. Everyone knew that. A sick man who didn’t know what he was doing. David was being merciful, not blaming Ted directly. Ted didn’t say anything, finding it easy to fall into the act of catatonia, like he truly hadn’t known what he was doing. Like he truly had thought David was someone else. Like he had truly not known when he was, who he was with.
“You didn’t know what you were doing,” David said softly, forgiving and tired, when he looked back at Ted. “You’d never have kissed me if you’d known.”
Ted had known he had kissed David, kissed a man. He would let David believe he hadn’t. David squeezed Ted’s shoulder again before he left.
David returned the next day. He called Ted ‘Mr. Knight’ again.