Chapter Text
Ted had never been good at hiding stuff. It was in his nature. Since Bill had meet him at eight years old, every thought that as much as passed Ted’s brain was instantly trusted to him, and the ones that weren’t usually found their way out anyway, through slips of the tongue while nervously rambling, absentmindedly while talking about some other topic —followed by a quiet “bogus”— or, in some rare cases, mumbled while sleeping on one of their sleepovers.
He first discovered Ted’s sleep-talking during their very first sleepover. Ted was the type of person that fell asleep as his head touched the pillow, but Bill, instead, usually stayed awake for another hour while sifting around. That night, he accidentally managed to have a full conversation with him despite Ted being completely dead to the world. Bill found it endlessly amusing, and eventually, as they slept over at each other’s houses more often than not, became accustomed to hearing the white noise of Ted’s voice as he fell asleep.
One night, though, Bill caught something way more interesting than Ted’s usual half-coherent musings about aliens or music. As he laid awake staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on Ted’s ceiling, he heard his best friend mumble a name. It was soft, barely audible, but clear enough to make Bill’s face split into a shit-eating grin. It was the name of a girl from their class—a tall, quiet, gothic girl who sometimes sat next to Ted in biology class and talked to him about The Cure and Depeche Mode. Bill knew Ted wasn’t really into their music, but he still listened, nodding along like he was.
So that’s what Ted had been trying not to tell him.
Bill propped himself up on one elbow, smirking in the dark. “Dude, you got a crush on her or what?”
No answer. Just another sleepy murmur of her name.
Bill snickered. “Ted, my most esteemed colleague, you are so busted.”
The next morning, when Bill brought it up over breakfast, Ted nearly choked on his froot loops. He denied everything, face red, insisting Bill must have misheard. But by the time they were halfway to school, the whole story came spilling out, just like always. That was the thing about Ted—secrets never lasted long. At least, not back then.
But now? Now Bill wasn’t so sure.
It had been a month since they had finally moved into their apartment. One month of beautiful, uninterrupted peace away from the stress of their homes. When they weren’t working at Pretzel’s ‘N’ Cheese, they were jamming with their guitars, or watching Star Trek reruns on the couch, or listening to whatever music they wanted. Life was excellent, and even though they still hadn’t achieved much in the “become famous rock stars” department, Bill felt that for the first time in their lives, they were finally taking baby steps towards making Wyld Stallyns a proper band. They even had a weekly gig at a bar! They got payed and all! Totally non-heinous, dude.
That’s why it didn’t make sense for Ted to be acting so weird.
At first, Bill didn’t think much of it. Moving out was a big deal, and Ted usually didn’t handle changes so great after all, so maybe Ted was just adjusting. But little things started to add up. Ted, who usually just passed out anywhere, anytime, had suddenly started making excuses to stay up later, even when Bill could tell his eyes were fighting to close.
He’d zone out mid-conversation —not that he didn’t do that before, per se , but Bill could tell this was different. It wasn’t Ted spacing out because he got distracted by some bodacious babe or lost in a random thought. This was tired zoning out. The kind where his eyelids drooped, and his head tilted forward before he snapped it back into place, blinking a few times and pretending nothing had happened.
Bill had caught him doing it more than one. While they watched TV, while they ate lunch, while he did the dishes…
Once, Bill even saw him nodding off during practice, only to jerk awake and strum his guitar like he totally meant to do that on propuse.
And okay, maybe that wasn’t weird on it’s own. Ted wasn’t exactly known for having the best sleep schedule. But the thing that ultimately annoyed Bill wasn’t that Ted stayed up late and didn’t sleep, but the fact that he was avoiding falling asleep around him.
Which was totally bogus.
Ted had never had a problem crashing next to him before. In high school, they used to have sleepovers every weekend, and sometimes on week days too. They’d passed out on each others couches, floors, beds and, on multiple occasions, on the big puff in Bill’s room. It had never been a big deal, not even when they woke up with their hair skewed in all directions and their limbs tangled around each other’s.
But now, Ted would mumble something about just resting his eyes for a second and then would force himself to sit up and blink the sleepiness away, even when he looked dead on his feet. One time, when Bill woke up in the middle of the night to grab some water, Ted even stood up on his elbows while blinking blearily at him and then waited for him to fall back asleep.
Bill didn’t get it. And he did not like not getting it.
But he also wasn’t the kind of dude that got into his friends business when he obviously didn’t want him too. If Ted wanted to tell him, he would.
At least, that’s what Bill kept telling himself each time he saw a barely awake Ted with dark circles under his eyes, munching on his breakfast like a Thriller extra.
And yet, the longer it went on, the harder it was for Bill to ignore. He wasn’t blind, he knew that Ted was running on empty, and whatever weird self-imposed rule he had about falling asleep around him clearly wasn’t doing him any favors. His usually chipper attitude had dulled into a very uncharacteristic quietness, his guitar solos where getting sloppier, and even his air guitars lacked their normal enthusiasm.
It felt wrong! Ted was supposed to be the most excellent, outstanding, hyperactive dude Bill knew, not this sluggish, dead-eyed version of himself.
And maybe Bill wasn’t the type to pry, but god help him if he isn’t going to try to help his best friend in a most heinous time of need.
So, one afternoon on their lunch break, after yet another instance of Ted almost face-planting into his pizza, Bill put his own down and finally caved.
“Dude” he said, narrowing his eyes “what’s your deal?”
Ted blinked at him, pizza slice halfway up to his mouth. “…wuh?”
Bill gestured to him. From his dark circles to his sleepy face and the way he swayed slightly like a strong enough wind could knock him down.
“You look totally wrecked dude. And don’t even try to tell me you are just resting your eyes again, ‘cause that’s a load of bull”
Ted hesitated for a fraction of a second before flashing his usual, easy going smile “Nah, dude, I’m good. Y’know, just been thinking a lot lately”
“‘Bout what?”
Ted shoved the slice of pizza in his mouth an mumbled something incomprehensible. Bill sighed, recognizing that as a classic Ted avoidance maneuver .
“Dude, please” he suddenly wondered if maybe Ted hated living with him, and was sparing his feelings by not falling asleep and spilling the truth. “Is… is it something I did? Did you not like moving in with me?”
“Dude, no way! Living with you is totally non-non-non-heinous” he laid back into the chair and looked at Bill, and for the first time in weeks, smiled like he always did.
“Then tell me what’s wrong” he pressed, getting a bit frustrated.
Ted shifted, and started picking at his fingers. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, like he was searching for the words. Then, he clicked his jaw shut and hid his face behind his hair, looking down at the crusts of the pizza he had been eating.
“Ted” he tried again, softer this time.
“Look, it’s dumb, okay?” He mumbled “I’ve just been sleeping weird, that’s all. I promise I’m not mad at you”
Bill frowned “If it’s been keeping you from sleeping, it’s not dumb, dude”
His eyes peeked out from under his hair, looking up at him with nervousness mixed with something else. He opened his mouth, but suddenly was interrupted by the beeping sound of his watch, reminding them that the pause was over.
Ted stood up and way too eagerly walked back to his station, not letting time for the other boy to react. Bill slumped back, defeated.
Something was definitely up, and if he wasn’t gonna tell him, then Bill was just gonna have to figure it out on his own.
That night, Bill laid awake on his bed, curled to the side and with his eyes closed. He told himself that he needed to know, needed to hear what was keeping Ted from sleeping around him so he could solve whatever problem he had been dealing with and then they could go back to being Bill S. Preston, Esq. and Ted “Theodore” Logan, like always.
So he curled up further, like he knew he did when he fell asleep, and manually slowed down his breathing. Some time passed and no noise came from the other bed, so with the added cover of the dark, Bill peeked to see if Ted was asleep.
He frowned. Ted, with a incredibly frustrated and sleepy expression, was looking at the ceiling. He sifted a couple of times, and looked over at Bill.
He quickly closed his eyes and prayed to Eddie Van Halen that Ted hadn’t seen them open. His prayers seemed to be answered by the other boys resigned sigh, and then the sound of his rhythmic breathing eventually slowing down.
As he expected, Ted started mumbling. Bill propped himself on his elbow, straining to hear.
At first, it was the usual Ted nonsense.
“Gotta… tune the amps, dude… or else… riffs’ll be wrong”
Bill rolled his eyes. Was that what was keeping him awake? Yeah, sure, making their band famous was important, being the cause of world peace and all that, but Ted shouldn’t be worrying this much about it if it’s going to take a toll on him! And of course he could have told Bill, it’s not like he’s gonna be mad that Ted’s not handling the pressure well.
He was just about to flop back into his pillow, already planning strategies to take stress off his friend, when Ted sighed again, this time softer, and he mumbled, his tone happy and wishful.
“…Bill…”
Bill felt his mouth turn into a fond smile. At least, in his stress induced dream, he was there to help him out like always.
He stayed propped up, watching Ted with mild amusement, waiting to hear what goofy dream logic his best friend’s brain would come up with next.
But Ted sighed again, deeper this time.
“Nah, dude, you gotta— gotta hit the chord like this… or else it won’t sound bodacious enough”
Bill smiled even harder. Cute.
Ted hummed, his voice going even softer “Mm… yeah… that’s it dude…knew you would get it…”
Bill smile faltered as he felt his stomach trickle with a weird, warm sensation. Ted voice had sounded different saying that.
“Man… you’re, like… real close” Bill heard his friend whisper the last part into his pillow like he was embarrassed.
Bill’s smile completely dropped from his face. He furrowed his brow and looked at the other boy’s sleeping form. Maybe he had been dreaming about fighting with him? That would be most heinous, he understood why Ted would have a problem with that.
Ted snickered quietly “You gonna kiss me, dude?”
Bill froze. What?
He must’ve heard that wrong.
Ted sifted again, sinking deeper into the mattress, a dreamy, dazed little smile curling his lips. And then, in the softest and happiest voice Bill had ever heard from him, he sighed—
“Oh, whoa, dude… you did. ”
Bill’s eye’s widened and the bit his lip hard, trying to not let a strangled noise escape his lips.
Ted made a quiet, blissed-out sound, looking completely at peace “I love you, Bill.”
Bill forgot how to breathe.
No. No way. That did not just happen. That could not have just happened.
Ted did not just sigh dreamily into his pillow and say that.
No way. No way!
Bill clenched his fist into his blanket’s and waited for Ted to stand up suddenly and laugh, telling him it was a joke— but all Ted did was roll over with a happy little grin still on his face. He was still asleep, completely unaware that Bill was freaking out in his own bed.
Because, like—
He knew that Ted loved him! That was a given. They were best friends. They didn’t say it much, but they said it enough to know it was true. But this was completely different.
This was Ted dreaming about kissing him, and totally liking it .
And know Bill was sitting up on his bed, hands pressing against his face like he could physically push out the information from his brain, and then pretend he had never heard his best friend say his name in that tone, or that he loved him like that.
And the most heinous part of it all, is that Bill wasn’t freaking out because he was weirded out. He was freaking out because his heart was pounding against his chest like never before, and his stomach felt all twisty and warm and electric in a very familiar way.
Because the same part of his brain that was supposed to be shutting all of this down, was instead playing the words like a broken record, over and over again—
“You gonna kiss me, dude?”
“Oh, whoa…dude. You did.”
“I love you, Bill.”
Bill curled in on himself and pressed his face into the pillow with a strangled “ dude ”.
Bill sat heavily across from Ted on their kitchen table. Ted was scarfing down some cereal and reading the newest Tank Girl comic, unaware of Bill’s internal turmoil.
He rested his elbow on the table, propping his chin in his hand and looked as Ted shoveled another spoonful into his mouth, completely absorbed in his comic.
It should have felt like every other morning, just another start of the day. Ted reading or eating way too fast, making those little satisfied noises when something cool happened in the comic. But now Bill couldn’t help but study his friends face, like if he looked at him enough he could read his mind and find out if he meant what he said while he slept.
He watched how the sunlight revealed a few faint freckles on his skin or how his pijama t-shirt hugged his scrawny but muscular arms every time he raised his hand to flip a page.
Bogus. Bill felt most weird right now.
He frowned at his own thoughts, sifting in his seat like that might shake them off. This was just Ted. His best friend, his dude. He had seen him eat a million bowls of cereal, seeing as that was the only thing the other boy ate for breakfast. Nothing was different.
Still, Bill’s brain wouldn’t shut up. It kept replaying last night in an endless loop. They way Ted had seemed so happy as the whispers fell through his lips, like it felt good just to say it.
Bill took a sip from his coffee, forcing his eyes away from his friend and into the table.
He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it this much. It was just a dream, right? People had weird dreams all the time. Even straight dudes like Ted could sometimes find themselves kissing a guy in their dreams.
Bill knew that didn’t sound quite right as soon as he though it, but it had to be the truth! Ted was the ladies’ man, the one who’d had gotten more action between the two of them. (Granted, it wasn’t much, but still).
There was no way that Ted had those types of thoughts, and even less that they were directed at him. He was into babes just like him, or at least Ted was last time he checked.
His eyes darted back to the other boy, following with his eyes the line of each one of his features. Ted smiled, and his gaze dropped down to his lips, making his stomach feel light and warm. Woah, total creepazoid .
He shook his head once, trying to snap out of it.
Ted must’ve noticed the movement, because he finally glanced up from his comic “Dude, you okay?”
Bill blinked, caught off guard. “Huh? Yeah, dude. Totally.”
Ted squinted at him for a second, before shrugging and looking back at his comic, his face disappearing underneath his fringe “Cool.”
Bill let of a quiet slow breath, letting his shoulders sink a little. He had to pull it together. He was acting weird, and Ted would notice if he didn’t cut it out.
He picked up a piece of toast and took a bite, focusing on chewing and the birds outside and the sound of the kitchen clock or anything besides the other boy.
Bill kept his eyes trained on his plate, determined to act normal. He could do that. He was Bill S. Preston, Esq., and he was chill.
Except it was getting harder and harder, because every time Ted made another noise—another soft chuckle, another contented hum—it sent a ripple of warmth through him that he really didn’t want to think about right now, or ever.
Ted flipped a page, slurped the last of his cereal, and let his spoon clatter against the bowl. “Dude, I had a crazy dream last night,” he said casually, stretching his long arms behind his head.
Bill went rigid. He forced himself to breathe, nodding like it was normal, and then answered “oh, yeah?”
Ted smiled “yeah, dude. It was most triumphant. There was like, a whole army of robot us’s trying to take over the world, but instead of playing like us, they totally sucked at guitar” he made a disgusted face “like real bad dude, like first years of Wyld Stallyns levels of bad”
Bill stared. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or pass out.
Ted had no idea.
It was almost funny. Here he was, having a full on existential crisis, and meanwhile, Ted was just worried about nightmare robot clones playing bad riffs.
Bill managed a weak grin. “Bogus.”
Ted nodded sagely. “Truly.”
He reached for his empty bowl and stood up, placing it on the sink “I’m gonna take a shower before heading to work, duder” and just like that he was out of the kitchen, walking down the hallway into their bathroom. Bill heard the door close after him.
Okay. He could do this.
Ted didn’t remember a thing.
Which meant that, as long as Bill didn’t lose his mind, things could stay exactly the way they were. No need to change anything, since Ted admittedly seemed much more rested than before and he didn’t remember.
Bill exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair.
If he just stopped thinking about it and ignored it, then it’d be like last night never even happened.