Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ted Spankoffski was not scared of thunder.

Well, okay. Who liked thunder, really? He’d never met anyone who would label themselves a fan of thunder. Nobody liked it. He just disliked it… more than some people.

Ted had never been a big fan of surprises, for one. He liked it better when everything that happened to him could be planned, to some extent. A clear cut routine that he could follow, that could help him expect every twist and turn that was going to happen in his schedule. Unexpected events only served to disrupt the plans that he had made, and distract him from what he wanted to be doing.

He wasn’t a big fan of loud noises, either. Nobody was. Loud noises stressed him out, sent him into panic mode. Even if it was an expected noise, such as an alarm going off or the sound of a door slamming behind him. Loud noises tripped him up and caused him a sensation somewhat like physical pain, despite how stupid that might sound to any normal person.

So, when you combined surprises, loud noises, and added in the fact that thunder was spooky as shit, it wasn’t as if he was insane for having a strong, passionate hatred (Not fear) of thunder. Any sane person would think the same exact thing.

The first warning sign for him should’ve been the dark clouds that he could see peering through the small windows in his apartment that he’d seen that morning, staring outside listlessly. On such an occasion, he normally did two things. He made sure to check his weather app, and in the case that thunder was expected, he brought his earplugs, which at least dulled the noise enough that his workday could be somewhat manageable until he could get home and blast whatever music he wanted at full volume.

But, he’d forgotten. In fact, for some reason, it hadn’t clicked to him as he walked into the building that morning, watching the cloudy sky.

Ted stood in front of the coffee pot, staring at nothing in particular as he held his mug, thinking about a variety of random things.

“Hey Ted,” Bill greeted, walking up to Ted. Right, the coffee machine. Ted hadn’t even noticed that he’d completely zoned out standing right in front of it. He stepped away, making room so that Bill could pour himself a cup. “Interesting weather we’re having, hm?”

“The weather?” Ted looked at Bill curiously. He wasn’t sure why the hell he’d want to discuss the weather. It was just something that boring people always wanted to bring up in casual interactions. “Why the fuck would I care about that?”

“I– I don’t know?” Bill shrugged his shoulders, stepping away from the coffee pot and leaning against the counter with Ted. “It’s cloudy out. Might storm.”

“Cloudy…” Ted repeated, mostly to himself. Cloudy. Right. He’d seen those dark clouds out earlier. And it being cloudy meant it might storm? So…

Fuck.

Ted nearly slammed his mug down on the counter behind him, the coffee inside it spilling over the rim of the cup as he rushed to grab his phone out of his pocket, nearly dropping it in the process.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He flicked through the organized folders on his mainpage. Okay, utilities. Third page. Weather app. Hatchetfield.

Oh.

Staring at him on his phone was the very awesome warning that, yes, there was a ninety percent chance of thunder, starting at 9 AM.

What time was it? 9:07 AM? Perfect.

“Ted, are you…” Paul asked from his seat at the break room table as he gestured vaguely towards Ted, who was agonizing over his phone. “You good, man?”

“Perfect,” Ted responded through gritted teeth, gripping his phone so hard that it might snap in half under his grip. “Peachy. Amazing. Splendid.”

“You sure, Ted?” Charlotte chimed in, sounding concerned. “You look like you’ve just received some awful news.”

“I’m–”

Boom.

The loud crack of thunder sounded through the room, splitting through Ted’s words and ringing in his ears, taking over all of his senses. His skin prickled as his shoulders tensed up, and his phone easily slipped out of the previously iron-clad grip, clattering to the floor.

“You were right Bill, I guess it’s going to storm,” Charlotte mused as she responded to the terrifying boom outside of the office, briefly glancing over at the vague area where the noise had come from and taking another sip of her coffee.

“Darn,” Bill commented. “Was hoping that me and Alice could go for a nice walk this afternoon. There goes those plans.”

“Ted?” Paul asked. Fuck. Ted probably looked a little insane for dropping his phone over a single thunder strike. Paul stood up, walked towards Ted, picked up his phone, and held out his hand, offering it to him. “You dropped your phone.”

“Yeah, I–” Ted noticed the eyes of everyone in the room who had seemingly noticed Ted’s strange behavior in response to the thunder. “I fucking noticed, Paul.”
Ted snatched the phone out of Paul’s outstretched hand, pocketing it again.

“Jeez, Ted,” Bill muttered into his mug. “He was only trying to help.”

“Yeah, I mean…” Paul paused, leaning in closer and lowering his voice so that only Ted could hear. “I get being afraid of thunder, it’s really overstimulating. If you–”

"Afraid?” Ted repeated, a little too loud, taking a step back. He wasn’t afraid. Who was Paul to call him afraid? “Nope, you’re delusional. Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“You do seem a little… jumpy,” Charlotte added thoughtfully.

“And who asked you?” Ted whipped his head around to face Charlotte, then Bill, then Paul, who were all looking at him like he was some sort of frightened wild animal. They froze, as if moving would spook him and cause him to run off. “Fuck all this. I’m going to go work, like a good employee. You guys can keep bumming around in the break room.”

“Ted,” Paul tried, trying to reach out his hand to place it on Ted’s shoulder, but Ted was already moving, making a B-line for the door, desperate to get away from the pity that he could feel radiating from practically everyone in that room just because he had the good sense to react to a loud, surprising noise. He hurriedly rushed out, nearly slamming the door behind him in an effort to put a barrier between that group of people and him. At the very least, once he got to his cubicle, they wouldn’t be able to judge him.

Unfortunately, unlike he had hoped, finally sitting down and working had not helped him with his little problem (not fear). In fact, he noticed a very fun and not at all insanely irritating detail that somehow, in his 10 or so years working at CCRP, he’d failed to notice. 

Apparently, their office echoed. Now, it was barely noticeable when it was smaller noises, such as talking or the clacking of keys as people typed. But when it was a louder noise, such as the blaring crack of thunder rumbling outside their office, the noise was made exponentially louder. The noises that would’ve otherwise been small, easier booms that Ted could’ve managed pretty normally, became louder, more dangerous, and more of an effort for Ted to face while keeping his composure. 

Ted bounced his leg incessantly as he awaited the next terrifying, unexpected boom. There weren’t any windows anywhere in their office, so he couldn’t exactly prepare himself with nature's warning flash of white light. He’d hardly gotten any work done that day, too fixated on minimizing his responses to divert any of his focus away from that laboring task. Bill was clearly taking note of Ted’s lack of attention to work, considering that he shared a cubicle, but was doing his best to stay quiet, though whether it was out of consideration or a lack of care was dubious.

Boom.

Another boom of thunder sounded through the office, an unexpected disturbance in the minor peace that Ted had managed to find in an entire 5-minute silence that he’d blissfully found throughout his day. He jumped in his seat, sending it backwards and slamming into Bill’s chair, who turned around to face him, the annoyance and anger clear on his face.

“F–fuck, Bill, I–” Ted started, putting his hands up in surrender. “That was my bad, I got distracted, and–”

“Ted,” Bill hissed, taking a breath in to try and steady himself, and most likely to keep himself from blowing up at Ted in their very visible cubicle space. “You’ve been freaking out all morning. You’re not good at hiding it.”

“I haven’t been freaking out,” Ted defended, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. “I’ve been… distracted. There's a difference.”

“Well, your distraction has been distracting me,” Bill shot back. “I get that you’re struggling, but…”

“But..?” Ted parroted, waiting for Bill to finish his sentence.

“Maybe you could… struggle somewhere else?” Bill suggested. “Like the break room?”

“The– the break room?” Ted repeated. Great, was he being kicked out of his cubicle? Wasn't that just amazing. “Would Davidson even allow that? I mean, I'm kind of supposed to be, y’know, working right now.” 

“You haven't been working all day,” Bill observed. “Maybe a break might help you, right?”

“I don't need a break,” Ted defended. He was lying, of course. In fact, he was a little upset that Bill had managed to think of that idea before he did, considering it was a bit obvious. The noise was significantly muffled in there. Fuck. “But if you’re going to kick me out, then fine. Whatever.”

Ted did his best to make it seem like the fact he was leaving was very much the fault of Bill, who he wanted to seem like the bad guy in the situation, and not to let on the fact that he was really just trying to scramble out of there before another crack of thunder came along and made him jump out of his seat. He slung the messenger bag that he had tucked under his desk over his shoulder, trying not to make eye contact with Bill.

He pushed his way out of the cubicle, gripping the strap of his messenger bag tight as he continued to walk towards the breakroom, hopeful that there wasn’t anyone around noticing him, his mind a steady thrum of ‘ please, please don’t let anyone notice me escaping to the break room.’ 

He swung the door open, slamming it behind him and pressing against the door, grateful that he had somehow beat the deadly countdown that he had completely fabricated in his mind. He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes and leaning back. At the very least, the next time he heard the lightning, he would be alone, and he wouldn’t have to waste as much energy muffling his reactions.

“Ted?”

Ted opened his eyes, and great. Wasn’t that just amazing. Paul was sitting at the table in the break room, holding his phone in one hand, staring at Ted, a concerned expression on his face. Now, Ted had two options. He could run back out of the breakroom, go back to his cubicle and deal with the assault on his senses for the next few hours, hoping that he wouldn’t drive Bill to insanity. That came with the risk of seeming scared to Paul yet again by running away, which of course, he wasn’t. 

So,  he settled for the lesser of two evils. Stay in the break room, create some reason as to why he was in there, and wait Paul out. Surely, Paul wasn’t planning on spending the entire day in there. Sure, Davidson was busy doing whatever the hell it was that he did in his office all day, and there was a slim to none chance that he would have to leave for any work reasons, but Ted knew how to make himself bad company.

“Ha, yeah, I mean…” Ted gestured to the coffee machine as he walked over to it, grabbing the mug that he had forgotten on the counter during his previous retreat from the breakroom. He poured out the cold sludge that remained in the mug into the sink. “Need more coffee, y’know? Having trouble waking up today.”

“I guess, yeah,” Paul agreed. “You just seemed a little… distressed. Like you were running from something.”

“Running?” Ted let out a loud, fake laugh. “That’s a good joke, Paul. Real good joke. Funny.”

“It wasn’t… em… a really good joke, Ted,” Paul admitted, raising an eyebrow. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” Ted shot back, filling his coffee cup with the bitter remains of the coffee pot and walking over to the only other empty seat at the table, sitting across the table for him. “Sue me, I find you funny. Is that a crime?”

“Well, no, but…” Paul trailed off, looking curiously at Ted. “You’re acting odd.”

“I’m not acting odd. You’re acting odd,” Ted defended, rather stupidly. It wasn’t often in life that a middle aged man found himself using the ‘I know you are but what am I defense’. But, sometimes it was necessary. Like, when defending himself from baseless accusations from Paul.

“Well… okay,” Paul responded simply, clearly not understanding how to respond to such a stellar defense. He took another sip of his coffee, placing it back onto the table and looking back at his phone, turning his attention away from Ted.

Ted drummed his fingers against the table anxiously. He had no real intention of drinking the coffee that he had just poured himself, he figured that it would only make him more wired than he already was. 

Boom.

Expectantly, Ted jumped up at the thunder. Fuck. Maybe he was a little scared, okay? He certainly didn’t need anyone knowing that, least of all Paul. He clenched his hand, hard, to try and stabilize himself.

“Ted.” Paul’s voice was soft as he looked over at Ted. “You aren’t good.”

“Paul, stop,” Ted hissed. His nails dug into his palms as he clenched harder, trying to use the sting to keep himself centered. “I’m good enough. Leave me alone.”

“Where are your earplugs?” Paul continued, ignoring Ted’s hollow reassurances. “Don’t you normally have those during thunder?”

“Well– Wait, you noticed that?” Ted furrowed his brows in confusion. “Also, I mean… I forgot them, okay?”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Paul responded nonchalantly. He looked down at Ted’s hand and frowned. “Stop digging your nails into your skin. You’re going to bleed.”

“Hm?” Ted looked down at his clenched first. He unclenched it briefly, looking at the crescent moon shapes that his nails left in his skin. He reclenched his hand, not particularly caring. “Oh, it’s– it’s fine, Paul. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Paul corrected. “You’re hurting yourself, stop.”

“I’m not hurting myself, Jesus Paul. You’re making it sound like it’s something bad.” Ted rolled his eyes. “It’s just– like, the pressure. It helps me focus, and not get– and not freak out, okay?”

“The pressure?” Paul repeated, looking to Ted for confirmation.

“Well– yeah, I guess. That sounds a little stupid now that you’re repeating it, but–” Ted started, averting his gaze.

Before Ted could finish his thought, Paul grabbed his hand, unclenching it for him and holding it, wrapping his hand around Ted’s— holding Ted’s hand.

“Better?” Paul asked, looking into Ted’s eyes, who sat there in shock. He was holding Paul’s hand. Like, that was a thing that was happening. Ted stayed silent, but Paul squeezed once, trying to get his attention, and wow.

“Y–yeah, better, I guess,” Ted confirmed, shrugging. It wasn’t as if that simple gesture of affection and comfort was instantly making him feel some of his anxiety easing away, that would be stupid. Not to mention weird.

“Good,” Paul responded simply, running his thumb over Ted’s knuckles slowly. “I’m here for you, okay? I get it.”

“What is there to get?” Ted asked. “I’m afraid of thunder. Congratulations, you were right. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Paul argued, gripping Ted’s hand tighter. “It’s something that you’re experiencing, okay? That’s not stupid.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that, though. I’m the one who came in here in the first place when you were trying to relax.” Ted averted his gaze, staring at the table. “I’m just being annoying.”

“You aren’t being annoying,” Paul affirmed. “Even if you were… I wouldn’t mind it. I want to be with you.”

Ted paused. For some reason, those specific words from Paul held more weight than he had expected them to. All Paul was doing was offering him company while he was scared, right? But… Paul wanted to be with him. How stupid was that?

“But this is weird, right?” Ted shrugged. Whether the ‘this’ that he was talking about was the hand-holding or the implication of affection behind it was dubious.  “Like… I’m weird. You’re just sort of putting up with it.”

“You put up with me, Ted,” Paul mentioned, as if the things were at all comparable. “Why is it any different when I put up with you?”

“It– It just is,” Ted defended. “You might not mind it now, but sooner or later, you’re going to get tired of me.”

“Why are you so worried about later?” Paul furrowed his brows. “We’re here now. I’m not tired of you now.”

“But you will be,” Ted insisted. “And you don’t need me the way that I–”

Ted paused, taking a moment to correct himself. 

“I’m not helping you. Why are you doing this?” Ted questioned.

“You’re helping me by being here,” Paul answered. “Your company is enough.”

Boom.

This time, when the thunder came, Ted squeezed Paul's hand, tight. Rather than letting his emotions out through another way, he just grabbed Paul's hand as if it were a lifeline, the only thing stopping him from crumbling under the mounting anxiety that the thunder caused.

Paul tried to muffle it, but he let out a quiet hiss at the sudden tight grip around his hand, a sound that Ted was easily able to hear among the deafening quiet that followed the crack of thunder. 

“Jesus fuck– see?” Ted urged, loosening his grip. “I’m goin’ to hurt you. I already did. We– we should stop.”

Ted tried to pull his hand away from Paul’s, but Paul’s hand grabbed his, stopping him. 

“Ted, you didn’t hurt me,” Paul promised. “I was just surprised, okay? I’m fine.”

“I’m not,” Ted responded. “Even if you don’t give a shit, I don’t want to hurt you. You’re too important to me.”

“But I’m not hurt,” Paul pressed. “And even if I were, that would be okay. It helped you, didn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Ted shrugged. “Why would you be okay with that?”

“Because I care about you, Ted.” Paul squeezed Ted’s hand once. “And I want to be here for you, whatever you need.”

“And I want to be here for you, but…” Ted trailed off, chewing on his lip for a second while he thought. “What if I can’t? What if I’m not good enough for you?”

Ted was sure that they weren’t simply talking about this moment between them anymore, but rather something bigger. Something unknowing, and surprising, and loud, and scary. Something unpredictable. And for some reason, Paul just seemed okay with it, as long as it was with him. Why?

“You will be. You already are.” Paul brought his and Ted’s interlocked hands up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to Ted’s knuckles, a real and genuine gesture that made Ted forget how to breathe for a moment. 

“But… y’know. What about after the storm and shit?” Ted looked at Paul, looking into his eyes, searching for any sign of resistance, for any sign that Ted’s words had made him reconsider something, had made him want to pull back and change his mind. 

“I’ll be here for you as long as you need, okay? I’m not going anywhere,” Paul reassured, smoothing the pad of his thumb over Ted’s knuckles once more.

“O-okay,” Ted responded, nodding, his throat suddenly feeling a little tight. Paul’s reassurances had crashed over Ted like waves, leaving him a mess of feelings that he didn’t fully trust to speak without having his tongue tied.  “Yeah, mhmm. Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Ted took a deep breath in, thinking about the unpredictable storm outside the break room. He knew that he wasn’t prepared, that anything could happen.

But Paul squeezed his hand once, a non-verbal check-in, as if he could read Ted’s mind. And Ted squeezed back.

And that anxiety about the storm eased ever so slightly.