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Some things just work.
Ted knows a lot of people think he’s naive, or that he’s too trusting, or that he doesn’t think things through, but he does. He just thinks it’s worth it to trust, and to try again, and to give some things a shot that other people might not.
In his experience, it’s more worth it than not. The potential rewards far outweigh the risks.
After all, that’s how he ended up falling in love with Beard in the first place.
He knew it was worth it to forgive him, and he knew it was worth it to keep him in his life, and it was. It still is. Even before they fell in love, it was worth it, but now—
Ted just knows he’s supposed to trust his hunches. They usually bring him somewhere nice.
He had a similar feeling when he met Trent. Pretty much everyone told him he was too tough, too mean, too much, that he wasn’t a good friend to have— or a good person at all— and Ted knew that wasn’t entirely true. Even after his article about Ted’s panic attack came out— maybe even especially after that article came out— he could tell, there was something special about him, and there was. He was worth loving— he is worth loving— and, even better, he thinks Ted is worth loving, too.
And Ted trusts the instincts of the people he loves. When Trent tells him Roy is worth loving— that he’s more than a friend, that he could be more to him, more to them— Ted trusts him. He’s right to do it, too, because Trent is right, and he doesn’t just bring Roy in with him; Roy brings Jamie and Keeley with him, swears they’re worth loving just the same way, and Ted believes him. He already loves them, just differently, right then. When he gets to love them, he knows the truth in a bone-deep way, knows it from experience, knows them and the warm weight of loving them and it’s so good, just— it’s perfect, it’s everything.
A few years ago, he didn’t know most of these people.
A few years ago, he was married to Michelle, and Beard was an old friend rather than anything else— anything more— and Ted couldn’t imagine having a life where he was able to actually give all the love that was bottled up inside of him to people who loved him right back.
A few years ago, the life he has now was unimaginable.
But now, Ted has everything he’s ever wanted— and more, if he’s being honest.
Lucky him, too— tonight is one of the rare nights where they can all be together, and he’s been looking forward to it for actual weeks.
At the house they share, tonight, there are no kids, no trainings, no appointments, no deadlines, no work. They’re not missing anything; there’s nothing scheduled but them. They can just be together, all of them, all at the same time, and Ted’s so happy about it he could absolutely burst. He just might, actually.
He’s the last one home, practically vibrating out of his skin when he pulls up in their long, curved driveway and sees his is the last of the vehicles here. Trent is home already, as is Beard, and Roy, and Keeley, and Jamie, and Ted all but sprints through the rain to the front door at the realization, buzzing to be with them, excited to see the lights on, and the house full, and the loves of his life home.
Nearly knocking the door in, he swings his way inside, leaning against the frame, announcing at the top of his lungs, “I’m home!”
Somewhere, deeper in the house, Keeley exclaims, “Ted’s home!” like a fun echo to him.
On top of her, Jamie calls, “In here,” and so Ted follows the sound of their voices, shucking his shoes and coat and bag at the door, abandoning them for a later-Ted to deal with. Now-Ted has things to do and people to see.
“Oh, heck yeah,” Ted says, the second he gets into the living room— or, sitting room, or parlor, or lounge, or whatever the heck it’s called over here.
Part of the reason they chose this house at all— apart from the fact that it’s got enough rooms and bathrooms for everybody, and a kitchen that can fit them all at once— is the massive conversation pit built into the floor in the living room. It’s really just a big old square carved into the floor with sofas fit around the rim, but they use it so they can all share the same space at the same time.
Tonight, too, they really are all sharing the same space at the exact same time.
“It’s about fucking time,” Roy says over his shoulder, focused mostly on the plate in his lap.
“Takeaway’s on the table,” Trent tells Ted, tilting his head up. Ted crouches down for a kiss; Trent smiles into it, reaching up to pat Ted on the cheek before he parts with a groan. “How was your day?”
“Long,” Ted tells him— tells them. “But it’s much better now.” He runs his fingers over Beard’s head as he passes, stroking through his short hair, and then he’s on his feet properly again, shoving upwards and cracking his joints back into place. “How about y’all?”
“Oh, it was lovely, actually,” Keeley replies. Ted makes an assenting noise, telling her he’s heard her while he examines the options laid out on the side-table. They’ve left a good fair portion of food for him: duck chutney seekh and lamb curry and aloo chaat and pepper chicken biryani and malai broccoli and chicken tikka masala and lemon rice and butter naan and he is just so excited. They didn’t have food quite like this back in Kansas— at least, not that he knew of— and he’s expanded his palate in so many ways, embraced a whole wide world of things he had no experience with and now can’t get enough of.
He loads up a plate for himself and takes the last mango lassi waiting on the table before he’s making his way back over to them. They’re all cozied up real close together, already dressed down and scrubbed up and wearing comfy clothes.
“Hey,” Beard says, motioning Ted over. “Right here,” and he pats the empty spot on the cushion next to him. Ted steps over the edge of the pit and right onto the sofa, wriggling in between Beard and Trent, careful not to knock anyone’s plates— including his own— on the way down.
On his left, Beard throws his arm around Ted’s shoulders. He’s already halfway done eating, and seems unbothered about finishing one-handed; on his right, Trent leans into him, a warm line of heat all down his side, and gives him a smile before returning to his own food.
Roy is squished in on Trent’s right, in between him and Jamie; he’s not only got his plate on his lap, Ted’s realizing now, but also on Jamie’s shins, his legs kicked up and over Roy’s thighs, his head propped up on Keeley’s shoulder as he sprawls across the sofa. She has two plates in her own lap; when Ted leans to look at them, he watches her alternate popping bites into her own mouth and Jamie’s— and, after a beat, he sees Roy do the same.
“What’s kicking?” Ted asks, fitting himself in with them.
“We were just picking a movie,” Keeley tells him. “Unless you want to talk about your day, then we can wait—”
“He’ll talk through the movie anyways,” Jamie points out.
Trent snorts a laugh; Roy pinches Jamie’s thigh, drawing a sharp, “Ow, you fucker—” out of him that just makes Trent laugh again.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Beard says. “Makes the movie more interesting.”
“I can try and be quiet this time,” Ted offers, and is met with a chorus of, “No!” and “Don’t do that,” and “Come on,” and “That’s not what I meant,” and “Absolutely not,” that makes him smile. The thing is—
The thing is, he’s never felt so accepted. There’s so much true, genuine love between them that, sometimes, he feels like he’s overflowing with it, like he doesn’t even know what to do with it all except to feel it. He’s never known so much affection in his life, and it’s exactly what he’s always wanted— always been seeking, always looking for, always needed— and he still sometimes feels like he’s adjusting to not being too much, or not enough, but just right.
“What’re our options tonight?” Ted asks, settling in. Trent shifts his plate into Roy’s hand for a moment so he can lift the blanket they’re sharing, helping Ted tuck his legs under it, thighs pressed to Beard’s and Trent’s on either side once he’s snug underneath.
“We’ve finally narrowed it down,” Keeley tells him, stretching to grab the remote and flick the television back on, navigating through to their downloaded movie collection. “It’s either Dawn of the Dead—”
“—Extended edition,” Beard adds, and he and Trent high-five over Ted’s head, drawing a smile up and out of him.
“—or The Princess Bride,” Keeley finishes.
Ted whistles, says, “Y’all don’t make it easy, do you?”
“We’re currently tied,” Keeley laments. “Your vote’s gonna help, Ted, c’mon.”
“How the heck’re you tied?” Ted asks. “There’s five of you.”
“I’m undecided,” Jamie says through a mouthful of lamb curry. “Chose to abstain.”
“Dick,” Roy comments, and Jamie nudges him again.
Ted considers their options, then asks, “Well— Am I asking too much if I say we oughta watch both?”
There’s a moment of consideration before Beard says, “I don’t mind staying up for that.”
“We don’t get to have nights like this very often,” Trent points out. “I’ll watch both.”
“Is Dawn of the Dead scary?” Jamie asks.
“Aw, babe,” Keeley kisses the top of his head. “We’ll protect you from the big, bad zombies. You won’t get eaten.”
“I’m going to fall asleep,” Roy warns them.
“I’ll wake you up,” Beard replies, and doesn’t elaborate on how.
With a unanimous consensus, Keeley navigates to turn on Dawn of the Dead first— hoping that ending on The Princess Bride will prevent Jamie from having nightmares— and Ted settles in closer to them, enjoying the comfortable coziness of them and the warmth of their meal and the contentment of being together with the people he loves so much.
“When’s the last time we just spent a night together?” Jamie asks, five minutes in. “Like— All of us, I mean.”
“I don’t even remember,” Keeley says, before she adds, “Ugh, we should do this every night.”
“I’d really love that,” Ted comments around a mouthful of lemon rice.
There’s a sharp musical cue on the screen; Jamie jerks, nearly knocking the plate out of Roy’s hands, and Keeley cuddles him closer, promising him, “They’re not gonna get you, I promise.”
Ted devours his dinner more quickly than he expects to; he doesn’t even say anything before Beard’s collecting empty plates, whisking them away to the dishwasher. He takes longer than Ted expects for him to come back— and he realizes why when he does come back with one of Roy’s t-shirts and a pair of his own joggers in his hands, tossing them to Ted.
“Get comfy,” he instructs him, and Ted wriggles out of his outside-clothes and into his inside-clothes, letting Beard take his discarded things and toss them over the chair in the corner.
“Shit,” Jamie curses towards the television. “Do you think this could really, actually happen, yeah?”
“Yes,” Beard replies.
“Fucking— Don’t tell him that,” Roy complains.
“If we’re ever in a zombie apocalypse,” Ted says, “I already know Beard’s gonna keep us safe.”
“I will,” Beard agrees. “And Ted will keep the house for us all.”
“I think I’d do a wonderful job.” Ted lets his head fall against Beard’s shoulder while Trent tucks him back under the blanket again.
“Roy can grow our food,” Jamie comments. “Grow us, like— vegetables and shit.”
“What the fuck?” Roy asks. “Why?”
“You’d be good at it,” Beard insists.
“You probably would,” Trent agrees.
Roy considers this for a beat before he says, “Fine, yeah. I might be. I could give it a try.”
“What am I going to do?” Keeley asks.
“You’ll run the mall,” Trent tells her. “Or whatever horrible little apocalyptic community we end up in.”
“Can’t we live in the woods?” Roy asks. “Or somewhere— away from people?”
“There’s pros and cons either way,” Beard says.
“Wait, I like this part,” Keeley stops them, winding her arm around Jamie’s chest, leaning closer to the television on the wall just beyond the conversation pit.
“Do I have a job?” Trent asks in a whisper, only a minute later.
“Yeah, you’re Ted’s pet,” Roy replies, and Ted chokes on the next sip of his mango lassi.
“I could do that,” Trent says. He rests his head on Ted’s shoulder, shifting closer into him. “I wouldn’t want to work too hard. It’s the apocalypse, and all.”
“You can be our pet,” Jamie tells him. Watching the screen, he flinches; a heartbeat later, he says, “Just— don’t let me get eaten.”
“If you insist.”
The story recaptures their attention and, this time, it keeps it for a little while longer. They’re not even halfway through the movie by the time they all end up piled in the middle of the pit, blankets and pillows heaped up, snuggled together in a pile of limbs. Ted’s head is in Beard’s lap, Trent half-underneath the both of them. Roy’s head is in Ted’s lap, Ted’s hand scratching his back, while Jamie is sprawled across him and Trent, and Keeley is wound up on Beard’s other side, her head on his shoulder, running her fingers through Ted’s hair absent-mindedly as she stares up at the movie.
Ted can feel each and every one of them, close and warm and soft. He’s never starved for touch, not anymore, not with them. There’s always someone for him to hold, someone to hold him, someone to love.
“Hey,” Ted says. Trent looks up at him; Beard glances towards him; Roy’s head turns, and Jamie shifts upward, and Keeley lifts herself up on one elbow. “I love y’all.”
“Aw, Ted.” Keeley scratches her fingers along his scalp. “I love you, too.”
“Love you,” Roy echoes.
“Yeah, same,” Jamie agrees. “I love you. All of you, just so you know, you know?”
“We know,” Beard tells him. “And— Hey, Ted. Love you.”
“Love you,” Ted repeats.
“I love you,” Trent says, and Ted tilts to look at him. His face is flushed, and Ted reaches to cradle his cheek, thumb sweeping under his eye. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Ted tells him, without hesitation, because he does. He knows that. None of them would be here if they didn’t feel that, if they didn’t know that, if they didn’t love each other like they do. It’s why they make this work— how they make it work. Their schedules are shit, and they sometimes see each other at work more than they do at home, and they can’t always be in the same place at the same time, but—
But there’s always someone here.
But there’s always someone to FaceTime, or call, or text.
But there’s always someone to share a meal with.
But there’s always someone to share his bed.
But there’s always someone to love him.
They love each other. Ted didn’t know much about this sort of thing before, but— but it’s everything to him now. They are everything to him now, one knot of affection and passion and love.
“I’m real glad to be here,” Ted tells them. “Just— I am real, real glad to be here.”
He’s folded between them again, bound up in the middle of the five of them— or, the six of them, if they count him, and they always count him.
“So are we,” Trent agrees.
Ted dissolves right back into them, letting them hold him. Trent kisses the side of his head; Keeley kisses the top of it.
The movie has its frightening moments, but Ted mostly uses them to scrunch in closer with them. They’re so knotted-up by the end that they have to rummage for the remote beneath them until it’s eventually unearthed under Roy; he passes it off to Beard, the one of them best able to angle upwards, so he can click through to The Princess Bride.
“Hey, can you turn it up a little?” Jamie asks, twisting to look back at Beard. “I love this one.”
“As you wish,” Beard replies, pushing the volume higher. Jamie grins at him before shifting back around, curling into place again, the six of them so balled up together that Ted no longer knows where one of them ends and another begins— just how he likes it best.
Maybe they can’t always be in the same place at the same time. Maybe they’re not together as often as they’d like to be. Maybe they have to fight to be together, but—
Goddamn, is it worth it. It’s more worth it than not, way more. The rewards outweigh the risks by so much that Ted can’t imagine anything but going for it.
People may think he’s naive, or too trusting, or thoughtless, but he doesn’t mind all that much. Other people can think whatever they want to think; he knows what’s worth it— knows that it’s worth it to try, to trust, to give things a shot that other people might not, like love and affection and— and this, this web of relationships they’ve worked out amongst themselves, loving one another individually, and loving each other across and between, and loving together, all at the same time.
Folded into them, feeling the love seeping through into him, Ted knows it’s all worth it. He’s glad he trusted his gut, followed his instincts, listened to the hunches that told him that loving these people— Beard, and Trent, and Roy, and Jamie, and Keeley, all at once, all together— was the right thing to do.
They’re everything, now, and he has them because he was willing to trust them, to risk everything, to go after them. He’s just so endlessly glad he did. Most people may not have, but he’s not most people, they’re not most people. They know better, and he knows better; he believes everything will work out in the end. Rom-communism, and all that.
And he’s right. He knows he is. After all—
Some things just work.
They’re the living, loving proof, right here.