Archive of Our Own ^beta

All in all, Ted Spankoffksi wasn’t a pleasant guy.

He was aware of that, obviously. Even for someone with an abysmal lack of social awareness such as himself, he was aware of that. He could see the way that people would shrivel away from him if he let his personality bleed through too strongly during a conversation, the way that welcoming eyes could easily turn disgusted if he said the wrong thing or acted at the wrong time. He’d seen it over and over, the way that any potential that he ever had to receive any form of attention from anyone had been tragically screwed over by just being too much of himself.

It wasn’t as if he was that way on purpose. He hadn’t asked to be born like that, much like a goat doesn’t ask to be born on a farm. For some reason, something had found him, chosen to make him different. Chosen to ruin any chance that he ever had at happiness. Chosen to single him out, gave him some sort of invisible horns that poked and prodded at everyone that made the mistake of getting too close to him, forcing them to withdraw. 

But it had.

So, he learned to hide it. Learned to dull the horns that threatened to scratch and claw at others. He smothered the aspects of himself that made him just that much more insufferable, pinched himself until habits were forcibly formed and walls were built to protect himself from that hurt.

Not to brag, but he got pretty good at it.

He could pick up and drop certain traits at the drop of a hat if he needed to. Whenever he met somebody new, it was a delicate game of picking out which behaviors he needed to find to try and grasp even a shred of attention, or maybe, even love (Ha, who would want that with him?) He was willing to get rid of any part of himself, to irrevocably damage and contort his very core of a being, if it meant even the slightest chance that for once, he could be noticed.

But for just as talented as he was at his craft, it was equally as exhausting. When you spend the whole day hyperfocusing on every small move, on every single word that exits your mouth for fear that it could ruin the facade that you’ve so carefully built for others, there isn’t exactly a lot of downtime in which a guy can sit with himself and rest. Every second was spent planning, focusing, expending energy on being anyone but himself.

As it turned out, CCRP was the perfect place to allow himself to get a rest.

Since his early days at the company, he had figured that wasting his effort on his coworkers was fruitless.

Bill was going through a bitter divorce with his wife, and hardly had the time to focus on anyone else. He was short and snippy with anyone that he wasn’t already close with, and that was a delicate situation that could have led to an even worse relationship than benevolence.

Charlotte had an equally strenuous relationship with her husband, and was so desperate for anyone that would give her attention, she was willing to settle for Ted. Really, she would’ve been willing to settle for anyone, as long as they were capable of letting her feel a little less alone. Which, as it turned out, was just what Ted wanted as well. Why waste his energy performing for a crowd that was going to cheer regardless?

And then there was Paul. Paul was… interesting. For some reason, Ted always got the sense that, in some way, Paul was putting up a mask as well. Maybe that led him to drop his guard around him? Maybe it made him feel a little less alone? Well, whatever it was, that sense of community that might’ve just been imagined had led him to feel comfortable enough that he didn’t feel like a mask was necessary to protect Paul from his true self.

Really, there wasn’t anyone to perform for. So why bother?

So, Ted allowed himself to be brutally him. Or, at least, as close of an approximation to himself as he could achieve without certainly isolating himself from everyone around him. He might play up his sex desire, act a little more (Or, a lot more, who could really say) self-assured than he really was, but for the most part, he allowed the core of his person to show.

It sort of worked. Gave him some time to rest in his day, to not hyperfocus and analyze the ways in which he behaved to the highest extent. He knew that Bill found him annoying, that Charlotte only seemed to tolerate him whenever she was at odds with her husband— which, albeit, was often. He knew that Paul, despite being who Ted would consider his best friend, didn’t really like him all that much. Sure, he tolerated him, laughed at his shitty jokes sometimes when everyone else stayed silent. Maybe occasionally, he would get Ted an unasked-for Chai.

Ted’s coworkers at CCRP, more than anything, stood as a reminder for him, as a warning to keep him in line whenever he considered letting down the mask that he had put up.

Whenever he was him, people didn’t like him. 

Ted sat in his office, idly playing with his phone cord while he talked to some lady on the phone with some complaint that he was only half paying attention to. He’d learned long ago that most of the time, the complaints that they got didn’t even really make sense, and often telling them to unplug and plug back in whatever device they were using typically did the trick.

“Yeah, mhm, lady, did you try unplugging it?” He asked, swinging his legs on top of his desk. He knew that Bill hated when he did that, and thankfully, he’d left a little bit ago. The only reason that Ted was still stuck there was that whoever this woman on the phone was, she’d gone on for an extra 30 minutes about how whatever electronic she was using was gifted to her by her grandson, and how she so desperately wanted it to work, and some more bullshit that he didn’t particularly care about.

After a quick confirmation from the lady on the phone, he continued.

“Try pluggin’ it back in now, mkay?” Ted twirled the phone cord around his finger, springing the coils as he tried to imagine himself anywhere but stuck in the office where he currently was.

‘Oh, my, thank you son! I’m sure that Timmy will just be thrilled, he—’

Ted hung up the phone the second that he got the confirmation that he had helped her solve her problem. He really didn’t want to be stuck in this building for longer than he had to be, even though he hadn’t yet made any concrete plans for that night. 

Maybe he’d go to a bar, find someone that was desperate enough for a company that they’d settle for someone as pathetic as he was. 

He could go home, swallow the quiet with a bottle and ignore the sinking pit in his stomach.

He might see whether or not Charlotte's husband was home, whether or not she was willing to get together.

“Oh, hey, Ted!” Ted whipped his head around to face the voice behind him, and saw Paul. Oh, so Paul was still in the office. Okay. He wasn’t expecting to have to have another interaction with a coworker today (Besides potentially Charlotte), let alone one that he actually cared about.

“Oh, hey Paul.” Ted swiveled his chair around to face Paul. “What’re you still doin’ here? Forget where the exit is?”

Paul let out a small chuckle. 

“No, um–” Paul rocked on his heels. Was he nervous about something? Or happy? Mad? “I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

“Me?” Ted tried not to let the panic creep into his voice. The only reason that he could think that somebody would actually want to talk to him would be in the case that he had done something wrong. He hadn’t done something wrong, right? Not that he could think of. At the very least, not recently.

“Yeah, and– I mean, it’s sort of serious?” Paul shrugged sheepishly.

Okay. He could do this. He didn’t normally do this, but he could put up his mask. He could figure a way out of this. He could make this work.

“What, you need tips on how to grow a bush brush? Cause, sorry man, I don’t know if you’ve got the time for all this maintenance.” Okay. Stall. Deflect. Distract. Take attention away to avoid the inevitable negative.

“Bush brush?” Paul repeated curiously.

“Y’know…” Ted gestured to his mustache. “The ‘stache. The bush brush.”

“Wow, that’s, um…” Paul pursed his lips. “Interesting.”

“Yup. Certified lady killer.” Ted flashed him a smile and winked. “Or, y’know, fellas. Whatever your deal is.”

“No, Ted, can you–” Paul took a sharp inhale. Fuck, Ted was blowing this. “I just want to talk to you, okay?”

“Yeah man, sure, whatever.” Ted tried his best to sound nonchalant. Did he sound nonchalant? What did nonchalant even sound like?

“I’ve been… thinking,” Paul started. Thinking? Thinking about what? “And, I mean, we’ve been working together for a while.”

Think, Ted, think. If he could anticipate what Paul was about to say, maybe he could stop it. 

“We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well.” Fuck. There was no way that this could end well. Nobody got to know Ted, the real Ted, and didn’t regret it. “And I was wondering…”

“Wondering if I could teach you a few moves?” Ted joked. Fuck fuck fuck. Stop joking. He was only making things worse, he knew it. “Seriously, you probably need ‘em, Matthews.”

“Ted,” Paul sighed, exasperated. “Can you just– just shut up, alright?”

Okay. Okay. He can do that. He can shut up. One of the only things that he can do right, honestly. Ted nodded his head, leaning back in his chair.

“I– I was wondering…” Paul took a deep breath in. “If maybe you’d want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“What?” Ted blinked. He must’ve misheard. He had to have misheard. Or misunderstood. Or he’d gotten so drunk that his brain had concocted some sort of torturous fantasy in which this sort of thing could happen.

“A date. With me,” Paul reiterated. “I mean, you don’t have to. You might not even be into guys, I don’t know. But I just thought, maybe, right?”

“With me?” Ted felt like he was in some sort of shock.

“Yes?” Paul furrowed his eyebrows. “With you, Ted.”

Ted felt something twist in his stomach. 

Why was Paul asking him on a date? Paul, who was friends with practically everyone in the office. Paul, who could be kind to anyone, to even the lowest of people. Paul, whose best friend in the office was probably the man who disliked Ted more than anyone.

Oh.

Oh.

“O-okay, very funny.” Ted rolled his eyes, the annoyance bleeding through his voice. “Tell Bill I’m sorry that I put my feet on my desk or whatever, okay?”

It was a prank. Of course it was a prank. What else would it be? Ted pushed up from his chair, pushing it behind him maybe a little rougher than he meant to, knocking it into his desk. Don’t let your anger show. Don’t let him know that he won.

“Ted?” Paul tilted his head, studying Ted. “What’re you talking about, man?”

“You need to work on your poker face, Matthews.” Ted grabbed his messenger bag from under his desk, slinging it roughly over his shoulder. “Bill’s going to be pissed when he figures out how easily you gave it away.”

“Gave what away?” Paul asked. Playing dumb. Fun. “Ted, I genuinely don’t know what you’re–”

“Save it,” Ted bit back. “Funny joke, you can pretend that you got me tomorrow, haha.”

Ted made his way out of his cubicle, trying his best to escape before the wet that began to push at his eyes began to prick at his eyelids.

“Ted,” Paul called out as Ted pushed his way past Paul at the entrance to his cubicle, rushing down the aisles. “Ted.” Paul placed his hand on Ted’s shoulder.

Ted whirled around, eyes wide and glossy.

“What?” Ted clenched his jaw. “Fucking what, Paul?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Paul kept his grip firm on Ted’s shoulder. “I got you?”

“The prank. Lesson. Joke.” Ted shrugged. “Whatever the fuck you want to call it. You got me, okay?”

“Prank?” Paul repeated. “I’m not ‘pranking’ you, Ted. I want to go out on a date with you.”

“Bullshit,” Ted pointed out. “And why the fuck are you touchin’ me right now?”

“Because you’re trying to leave because of something that isn’t true,” Paul responded. “At the very least, I want to be rejected by someone who understands what’s going on.”

Ted swallowed, hard. Whatever Paul was doing, whatever game he was playing, he was refusing to give it up. Maybe it was a bet, he had money on the line?

“Can you let go of me already? I– I need to go.” Ted’s eyes flickered between Paul and the exit, at the nothingness waiting beyond the exit. “If this is a bet with someone, I can give you 20 bucks if that's what it takes.”

“Seriously?” Paul sighed, rolling his eyes. “You’re still refusing to believe that I want to go out on a date with you?”

Hm. Was that question supposed to be a trap? Was it rhetorical? That was one of those things that he was just supposed to be able to tell.

“I mean… yeah?” Ted responded simply and truthfully. It was an easy answer.

“Why?” Paul shifted his hand slightly, resting his thumb on Ted’s collarbone. “Why is it so hard to believe that I’d want to go out with you?”

“Because, you know me,” Ted answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it was. “You know who I am.”

“Yeah, and?” Paul shrugged. “I wouldn’t have asked you out on a date if I didn’t know you.”

“N-no, I mean–” Ted swallowed, his throat feeling suddenly thick. He could feel the tears that he’d hoped to keep hidden pricking at the corner of his eyes. Was Paul really going to make him give a humiliating explanation? Fuck that. “You know me.”

“I do,” Paul confirmed, slowly, as if he were afraid of spooking Ted.

“So, I mean…” Ted felt a loose tear fall down his face, and rubbed it away roughly with the back of his hand. Fuck. There went that whole ‘not caring’ thing he was going for. “Why? Why could you possibly want to go out with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Paul responded. “You’re funny. You help me with work. You check in on me every morning.”

“I’m annoying,” Ted corrected. If Paul wanted blunt truth, he could give him blunt truth. Fine. “I’m annoying, and I’m pushy, and I don’t know how to act like a normal fuckin’ human being, and I say the wrong things all the time, and I don’t know how to leave people alone. I’m weird.”

“You’re weird,” Paul repeated. “So am I. What’s the problem?”

“No, you don’t–” Ted’s voice cracked. “You don’t get it, okay? I’m wrong. I’m different.”

“Ted, I–” Paul started.

Fuck the whole thing. Ted didn’t need to be humiliated anymore.

“Paul, fuckin’ stop, okay? I don’t need your pity.” Ted shook Paul’s hand off of his shoulder. “I already got Charlotte, I don’t need another fuck buddy. Or, if I did, I don’t need to be wined and dined like a high-class hooker.”

“Ted, what the fuck are you talking about?” Paul ran a hand through his hair, the taut string of his patience running thin. “I don’t want a fuck buddy. I’m not pulling a prank. I want you, okay?”

“Well, you’re wrong.” Ted threw his hands in the air. “You’re stupid for wanting me. Maybe you’re just as fucked in the head as I am if you think that this is a good idea.”

“Maybe I am, okay?” Paul was now on Ted’s level, fully shouting just as he was. “Is that such a bad thing? We’re ‘fucked in the head’, so what?”

“It won’t work, that’s what.” Ted scoffed. “I’m going to fuck it all up. I’m going to say something wrong, or not notice one of those things that I’m supposed to notice, or I’m going to be too neurotic about something, and it’ll fuck it all up. There, happy?”

“You know what?” Paul walked over to Ted, placed his hand on his jaw, and pulled him down for a kiss. Ted froze in place, shocked, afraid that a single movement could destroy the entire thing. After a few seconds, Paul pulled away. “There. Now there's something to ruin. Go ahead, fuck it all up.”

“P–Paul, I–” Ted stood there, speechless.

“Ted,” Paul asserted. His touch was still firm on Ted’s jaw, holding him in place and forcing him to make eye contact. “You don’t know for certain that you’re going to fuck this up, okay? I know what I’m getting into. You know what you’re getting into. It’s fine if you’re not ready for a relationship, but if what’s holding you back is the fact that you’re afraid of being too weird? Well, that’s just stupid.”

“But, I’m, y’know…” Ted trailed off, but the implication was still obvious. He was himself. 

“I know,” Paul softly confirmed. 

“D’you, um, want to go out and get drinks or something?” Ted offered sheepishly. “Like, romantically, I mean. And, if you don’t want to, that’s– that’s okay.”

“I’d like that,” Paul said, a soft smile playing on his lips. “The Birdhouse?”

“Oh, definitely,” Ted eagerly agreed as Paul began walking out, leading him with a hand on the small of his back. “Way better than the Wolf’s Den across town. Lights over there are way too bright, which might sound stupid, but–”

“No, totally,” Paul acknowledged. “And the bar is always sort of… sticky?”

“Not to mention the music,” Ted added.

The conversation that Paul and Ted made was easy as they made their way out of the building.

Whatever it was that Ted and Paul had, it was easy, at least at the moment. Ted felt seen in some way, in a way that he never had before.

And Ted hadn’t ruined it yet.

Maybe he wouldn’t ruin it.

Maybe he would.

But, for that night, he was going to go out for drinks with Paul.

He didn’t have to perform.

And that was all that mattered.