Chapter Text
Ted finishes pacing in a circle for the umpteenth time and lets out a deep breath, his fingers still drumming on his thighs. A knock comes at his office door, and he looks over. “Come in!”
The door opens, and Paul steps inside, shutting it behind him. “Hey. What did you text me for, exactly? I haven’t even finished my reports yet.”
“Oh, this’ll only take a minute. I just need your opinion on something.”
“What?”
Ted drums on his thighs for a few seconds before he puts his hands on the back of his chair. “So I just got back from R&D, right?”
“I’m gonna assume the answer is ‘yes’.”
“Yeah, well, you know how some days they just really test my patience?”
“It’s come up.”
“This is one of those days. Don’t get me wrong, some of them are probably the smartest people I’ve ever met, and they’re all great at what they do - most of the time.” Ted gestures for emphasis, then he drops his hand back on his chair. “But overseeing an entire department isn’t easy by itself, and they still come to me with questions they should already know the answers to or notes on a project we haven’t started yet when we’re already working on five. I can multitask, it’s a survival skill down there, but I am not that good.”
“I know,” Paul says, slipping his hands in his pockets. “It hasn’t even been two months, you’re still getting your bearings. That isn’t exactly news. I don’t understand why I’m here.”
“Oh, I’m getting to that. You know Kelsey, my senior technician?”
“I don’t remember the team’s names all that well, but sure.”
“Good. So my point is, I’ve been pushed pretty far today, and everybody’s learned to back off before I reach my limit - they don’t always follow through, but they understand the consequences.”
“So what happened with Kelsey?”
Ted drums on the back of his chair, staring at a random point on his desk before he looks up. “She came up to me before I left and said ‘I think you need this, boss’, and she gave me the number of a therapist she knows - a friend from college, I think.”
Paul blanches a little. “Oh.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to say she crossed a line or anything, ‘cause she really is one of our best, and you know I don’t exactly mind someone calling me out on my shit.”
“Still, I can understand why that must have blindsided you.”
“A little.”
Paul nods, and Ted does the same. His gaze falls briefly back on the desk, until Paul comes over and he looks up again. “I just - Is she right?”
“Ted, that’s not really a question I can answer.”
“I mean, I know. But I’m not gonna take a poll with the rest of the team or anything.” Ted gestures again and holds a hand to his heart. “They don’t know me like you do, and I really need someone who’s seen me at my lowest to weigh in, here.”
Paul looks at him for a minute, then over at the wall, before he turns back to Ted. “I think therapy doesn’t work for everyone. And I know how hard it is for you to admit that you need help - honestly, I’m surprised it sounds like you’re considering it.”
Ted throws up his hand in a shrug. “What can I say? I know I have problems. The idea of talking about them isn’t all that fun, but to have someone who can maybe give me some way to cope? That sounds promising.”
He slumps just a little as his hand falls back on the chair. “And I’m so god damn tired, Paul. I don’t want to be constantly fighting off migraines and just…on edge all the time. I can’t keep living like this.”
Paul leans over to squeeze one of his hands. “Then you should call that number.”
Ted works his jaw for a second, blinking away the mist threatening to form in his eyes before he nods. “Yeah, okay.”
///
“Ted,” Paul says from his seat. “You’re digging a rut into the floor.”
Ted stops pacing just to flail his hands a little. “I have too much energy right now.”
“Trust me, that’s obvious. I’m sure the doctor will be ready in a minute.”
“You know I’m not good at waiting. Booking the appointment was hard enough, I don’t know what to do now that I’m actually here.”
“If you’re having second thoughts, then cancel. You can always try again another time.”
“No, I want to see if this works, it’s just-“ Ted gestures aimlessly before putting his hands on his head, tugging at his hair a little. “I don’t know.”
Paul throws the pamphlet he was reading on the table and gets up to face him. “Ted, breathe.”
Ted takes in a deep breath and lets it out, his hands falling back to his sides. He slips his fingers in his belt-loops, but the others still twitch, and Paul definitely notices. He says, “You’re overwhelmed, and that’s fine. What you have to remember is that Dr. Winslow isn’t going to judge you.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I know. But I hate seeing you like this.”
That hits particularly hard, and Ted sighs, lifting one hand to run it over his hair. “Paul, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel like this. What am I supposed to do with that?”
Paul takes his hand in both of his. “Tell her. There’s a chance she can help you, it’s just going to take some time. You have to work with her, Ted.”
Pressing his lips together, Ted nods, even as he says, “I’m going to hate this.”
Paul gives him a little crooked smile. “You definitely will. But I’ll be right here when you’re done, ready to drive the getaway car.”
Somehow, Ted chuckles, and it’s only a little half-hearted. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
That’s when a woman comes from down the hall, giving them a polite nod as she passes to leave the building. Over at the front desk, the receptionist hangs up the phone and calls out, “Dr. Winslow will see you now, sir.”
For a split second, Ted freezes, until Paul squeezes his hand. “An hour isn’t that long. You’ll be back before you know it.”
“Yeah, I guess. Thanks for putting up with me.”
“Well, someone has to.”
Ted blanches and pulls his hand free of Paul’s. “The nerve!”
Paul flashes his most innocent smile. “I love you.”
Ted drops the act right away and returns the smile, even if he does roll his eyes. “Love you, too. Alright, wish me luck. I’m gonna need it.”
Paul waves after him as he leaves the waiting room. “Good luck!”
A sign points Ted down one corner, where he finds a door marked with Dr. Winslow’s name standing ajar. He pushes it the rest of the way, and the woman sitting in an armchair looks up from the black book she’s writing in. “Ah, Mr. Spankoffski.”
“God, please just call me ‘Ted’.”
Dr. Winslow pulls what’s almost a wry smile. “Noted. Please, come in.”
Ted steps into the office, shutting the door behind him. Dr. Winslow gestures toward the couch across from her, and when he sits down, she says, “Now, my understanding is this is your first therapy session.”
“Yep.”
“Well, then let’s get this out of the way; my job is to help you find a safe and healthy method of navigating whatever it is that brought you here. Nothing we might discuss will leave this room without your permission.”
Ted nods, skme of the weight slipping off his shoulders. “Thanks for clearing that up. I wasn’t exactly worried, but-“
“It’s still good to know, I imagine. You are far from my first ‘green’ patient, shall we say.” Dr. Winslow turns to a new page in her little book and clicks the pen in her hand. “Now, with that all settled, where would you like us to start?”
Ted straightens up a little, pressing his thumbs into his kneecaps for just a second before he tries to relax and think of an answer.
Here goes everything.
///
At the end of the session, Dr. Winslow shows Ted out of the room and says, “I think we’re already making progress, which is a wonderful thing to say this early. I do hope you’ll take my advice into consideration - I understand if it was a bit forward-“
“No, no, uh, it’s fine.” Ted waves it off. “I can’t say it’s the first time someone’s brought it up. And you really are just trying to help.”
“Glad we understand each other.”
“Yeah. So, uh, same time next week?”
Dr. Winslow nods, shaking Ted’s hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise. Guess I’ll go now, then.”
Ted watches Dr. Winslow step back into her office before he goes back to the waiting room. Paul stands to meet him and asks, “How was it?”
“Honestly, better than I thought. It’s good to have everything out there, and she said we can start talking about next steps soon.”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah. Let me just talk to the front desk, then we can go.”
“Okay.”
Ted double-checks that his next appointment is already booked and that this one was paid for - which, somehow, is what ends up being his least favorite part of the whole deal - then they leave. Once they get in the car, though, he says, “There is something else Dr. Winslow brought up.”
Paul stops just as he’s putting the key in the ignition. “What?”
Ted claps his knees a few times, glancing out the window before he looks back. “She thinks I should get tested for ADHD.”
“…Okay. Do you want to?”
“It sounds like you’re trying not to piss me off. You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m still asking.”
Ted shrugs, fixing his seatbelt when it brushes against his skin. “I don’t know. It’s come up…more times than I can count, really. When Pete took his first psych class, he came home and pretty much shoved his notes in my face. And I’ve been told more than once that I should be medicated, but that might just be an insult.”
“Yeah…You don’t have to let all of that sway your opinion, though.”
“You know, that’s probably at least some of the reason I never have been tested. That’s the thing about labels, isn’t it? We have them so everyone else knows what’s ’wrong’ with us - or, that’s how it feels.”
“Absolutely.”
They’re quiet for a second, until Ted asks, “When were you diagnosed, again?”
Paul drums his fingers on the wheel with a small sigh. “College. Autism wasn’t understood like it is now, so I’m unbelievably lucky that I found a doctor who didn’t see the forest for the trees, you know?”
“Yeah, it must’ve been hard. What was everybody else saying, anxiety or something?”
“That was the most common excuse - and that’s what they were, excuses. Justifying the most obvious symptoms and ‘letting me down easy’ because Autism was such a harsh diagnosis back then.”
“Oof.”
Paul nods, staring into the distance for a beat before he says, “I’m not saying it’s a perfect system now. But it is better.”
“I know. But isn’t ADHD, like, the number one diagnosis these days? You zone out too many times and they’re shoving Adderall down your throat.”
“That’s true, unless you have the right doctor, like I did. I’m sure Dr. Winslow knows someone.”
“Someone who won’t mistake the forest for the trees?”
“It’s an apt metaphor.”
Ted chuckles and moves to get out his phone. “Alright, I can ask her next week, but I’ll try to start looking now. Come on, you’re wasting gas.”
As they start driving, he tries to learn more about ADHD and how to get a diagnosis, and weirdly enough, it doesn’t feel all that intimidating.
Whatever’s at the end of the road, maybe it won’t be too bad.