#and crackships with Ted? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starpirateee · 5 months

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Old feelings

The goddamn rewatch party discord (affectionate) is back at it again, making a cult new exciting crackship that I absolutely adore... So let me provide self care in the form of that crackship!

The pairing is indeed Mark Chasity and Ted Spankoffski, no I'm not going to look back now-

!! Warnings for blood and injuries below !!

"Hey, excuse me, are you okay?"

Ted shambled down the street, the heel of his hand pressed firm against his stomach. It's not like that was helping in the slightest, but he was far enough away from his assailant that it didn't matter. His vision was blurred, and he could barely make out where he even was.

The pain in his stomach wasn't the only problem, of course. That crazy bitch had unloaded on him twice, and his shoulder was throbbing in tandem with the wound he was trying to cover. Both were still bleeding. He was covering his chest to the best of his ability, and could feel the blood from his shoulder running in a warm line down his shirt. This to say, he was rather surprised that he hadn't left a breadcrumb trail in the form of his own blood, leading her straight to him.

He collapsed to his knees on the street, heaving for breath. That's when he realised he wasn't entirely alone. Weird, he thought everyone would be at the Honey Festival by now...

But, he'd definitely heard someone. So, he looked up, albeit with a little effort, and his gaze landed on a tall, entirely blurry figure standing at his side. He nodded in answer to the question he thought he heard, but it was pretty clear that he was anything but okay.

The man looked down on him, and saw something that clearly rendered both his question and Ted's answer rather pointless. He'd been shot. A circular hole tore through his shoulder, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that the same was probably true of the part of his chest he was trying to cover.

Ted tried to force himself up off the pavement, weakly digging his other hand into his thigh to combat the immense pain coursing through his chest. "I can't- I can't stay here, I- she-" he sighed, finally managing to pull himself to his feet. It took him a while to realise that the blurry man had probably done most of that, gently levering him up with an arm around his waist. "It's not safe-"

He shot a glance behind him, but couldn't make anything out but the shapes of the buildings. As far as he could tell, he wasn't being followed, but that didn't bring as much relief as he thought it would.

The man glanced back too, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. "Do you have somewhere you could go to, even for a while?"

"No, everyone I- they're all at the festival..."

"Then I'm going to drive you to the hospital."

The hospital was an obvious choice, both of them knew that. She could find him there, and it definitely wasn't the safest place to be hiding from a pursuer... But there wasn't really another option. Ted just hummed, completely uncertain. At the moment, his brain was trying to comprehend the spark of familiarity he felt when the man started speaking to him. It's not like a lot of people cared to know him in this shit little town, but there was the work lot, and then some of the boys from high school-

His vision refocused for long enough to make out something else about the man. His hair was short and swept across his forehead in an awfully telling way, and a pair of wire frame glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, exactly the same pair that Ted thought he remembered on an old... Friend of his. He blinked, incredulous. "... Mark?"

The man stopped, faltering. "Sorry?"

Ted decided to try his luck again, just to see if his eyes were deceiving him. "You're- Mark Chasity... Right?"

This time, when Mark looked down on the wounded stranger, he didn't see a stranger at all. The guy he recalled from high school kept himself clean shaven, and those days his hair was a lot shorter, but there was no denying the face. Despite the moustache, and the way that his hair was now long enough to pull into a gathering at the base of his neck, there was no doubt as to who he'd just pulled off the pavement. "Teddy?"

Nobody had called him that for well over fifteen years. In fact, the last person to do that was Jenny... But, Mark had never known any different.

What a way to see a guy again after this long... Ted forced a breath, and then winced. Mark started walking him to his car, shooting the odd glance down at him.

"This is not- how I wanted to see you again," Ted remarked, filled immediately with a weird sense of reminiscence. The two of them had been close in school, pulled together by a strange set of circumstances. Ted had been the one to cover for Mark when his father came dangerously close to discovering he was gay. They'd stolen away together; under the bleachers and in the back of empty classrooms... Ted was the reason Mark had figured out he was gay in the first place. It was only right that he helped with the aftermath.

And Mark remembered. He remembered Ted pulling some strings, talking to a few of his friends, and finding a girl willing to pretend to be Mark's girlfriend, to cover. Her name was Karen... At the time it was no more than an innocent cover up, but the more he had to hide his relationship with Ted, the further he fell into this lie with Karen.

They'd gotten married out of convenience, because the one time he'd actually slept with her, he'd managed to get her pregnant, and neither of their families would take that well if they were caught. Hers were more religious than his, but his dad had been scarily close to finding out the truth before, and it was only a matter of time before it happened again.

He'd distanced himself after that, stopped really associating with Ted in public. For the most part, Ted understood, but it had been one of the hardest things to let go of.

"What happened to you?" Mark asked cautiously, fumbling for his keys in his back pocket. He had to admit, Ted had only really gotten more handsome in his adult years. That was the last thing he wanted to think about right now, but it was the first thing on his mind. He opened the car without a thought to that matter, and helped Ted into the passenger seat.

"Got shot."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? You don't say."

Ted shrugged off both his answer, and the fact that he was glad to find Mark hadn't changed in the slightest. Why he was still able to feel this unwarranted tightness in his throat, after all these years and other partners, was totally beyond him. God, here he was admitting to himself that Mark bloody Chasity still gave him butterflies...

It was true, though. Whether he chose to admit it to himself or not. Mark was still every bit the man he used to be, and Ted couldn't deny that if he tried. Not even if there was nothing but a shred left of his own high school self. He was surprised Mark had even recognised him for who he was.

He didn't know how long they sat in silence for, but Mark's hands had started to tighten against the wheel, and it registered that neither of them had actually said anything since he admitted to the circumstances.

"That... Wasn't really an answer to the question, Teddy."

"Ted." Came the insistent response, a little sharper than either of them were expecting. Jenny had left him years ago- for Clivesdale, of all places- but it still stung to hear anyone refer to him in the way she used to. There was only one exception to that, and that was only because he couldn't bring himself to tell Pete why he hated it. "I'm not eighteen anymore."

Mark drew back, visibly stunned. "Ted..." he muttered, as if he was trying to make it stick. Why did it matter? After this, they were going to go their separate ways and that would be it. He wouldn't have to talk to him, or even think about him, again. "How did you get shot? And I swear, if you say 'by a gun', I may just be tempted to finish you off myself."

Ted forced himself to see the humorous side of that, and managed an airy chuckle. White spots danced in his line of sight, and at this rate, he didn't even know if he was going to make it to the hospital...

Even still, he had to give an answer eventually, he supposed. He straightened up as much as possible and tried to look in Mark's direction.

"Someone followed through on- the flirting game. She took me home. I thought- it was going alright, but then she pulled a pistol on me and... went totally crazy. I saw her lining up another shot, and then- her son or something came out the woodwork and- got her attention... Fuck-" he felt the pulsing under his hand grow weaker. It was also the first time he'd realised that Mark seemed perfectly okay with the fact that he was bleeding out in his old banger. "I got out... Started running... Couldn't run forever."

Mark's eyes widened, and he stopped himself from showing the anger he felt. For some reason, he was unreasonably ticked off at the fact that someone would try and pick up a date somewhere just to immediately turn around and pump him full of lead... Especially someone like Ted. Granted, he hadn't known him in a long time, and it was highly unlikely that he was the same person, but every time he looked at him, he saw the same guy who'd led him away from crowded parties with a smile and a cup of booze for the road. The guy who became that good at lying that he managed to deflect attention from the both of them when it mattered the most. "You saw her lining up a shot..." He echoed, not sure what else to say.

"She was aiming for my head."

Mark felt his blood run cold. Without even thinking, he did something he hadn't outwardly done since he was seventeen. He swore.

Ted blinked, not expecting that in the slightest. Mark really put his foot on the gas then, and raced through the streets. He knew there was nobody around to catch him, and even if there was, he had a heavily bleeding man in his front seat, there was no way they could dispute it. "She could've killed you," He whispered, as if Ted hadn't figured that one out yet.

"I feel like she's- getting there already, y'know?"

"Don't joke about that. You're gonna make it. You're not gonna bleed out in my car..."

"You've had this heap since- since we were kids, Mark..."

"Some things don't have to change."

Ted managed something of a genuine smile. They'd driven to the most secluded places in the whole town in this car. If Mark's wife knew that he'd made out with another man on the hood of the car he probably drove her in every day, what would she think? Was she even aware that it was a convenience thing anymore? That Mark had never felt attracted to her, and probably never would? "Fair enough..." he mused, trying not to relax in the familiarity. If he let himself go too much, Mark could have a huge problem on his hands, and for some reason, he didn't want to be the one responsible for that.

Mark pulled into the street next to the hospital, determined not to waste time on trying to find a place in the car park. Supporting Ted the best he could (and growing infinitely more flustered at the familiarity of their closeness), the two of them made it to the front desk of St Damien's. In the harsh lights, Mark could see that Ted was white as a sheet, and sweating through the effort of trying to keep himself conscious. He was literally fighting to keep his eyes open, and Mark sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that he was going to pull through this.

He got the attention of the receptionist, and tried to prevent himself from making his blatant fear too obvious. "He's been shot. He needs a doctor... Is anyone still here?"

The receptionist glanced up, registered the situation immediately, and couldn't hide the gasp that followed. She called over the closest nurse, and rang the operating team as the nurse ran over and helped Mark get Ted to the theatre, which was only a corridor away.

"Sir, can you still hear me?"

Ted hummed vacantly, fighting off the way the bright lighting made everything worse. He could barely see as it was, but now everything was hazy, and it felt like he was being forced through a room made entirely of light. "Uh, yeah..." He managed, grateful he could still feel Mark at his other side. He hadn't left. Not yet. "Mark, can I- ask a favour?"

Mark nodded without much hesitation, and didn't even bother to stop and think why that was the case. "Sure, Ted. What?"

"Call my brother? Tell him- whatever. I think... I think he needs to know. Phone's- in my pocket..."

Just before Mark was made to wait outside as they parted for the operating theatre, he retrieved the phone from Ted's back pocket, and just held it, feeling the weight in the palm of his hand. The nurse was the one who drew him back to reality, concern lining her features. "You say he was shot?"

Mark nodded, unable to bring himself to the point of words. He was shaken, but not entirely by the fact that he'd just carried his old friend to the hospital looking way closer to death than any man should. "I found him..." He forced out. "I don't know how long he's been like that."

"Do you know his name, or anything about him?"

"His name is Theodore Spankoffski. Ted. He's either... 34 or..." Did he remember when Ted's birthday was? Was that something he'd subconsciously recalled, and thought about every time it passed without even realising? He tried to think, barrelling through every date he'd managed to associate with a name, until he found it. "He's 35."

"Are you sure?"

"His birthday's in September," it was coming back to him now, in full force. Everything he knew about Ted- everything Ted had told him when they were alone- was returning to the forefront of his mind. He could've told this nurse anything. About his little habits, or the way he was physically unable to sit still when reading, but none of that mattered to anyone that wasn't him. "September 12th." He clarified, earning a nod in return.

"And you, sir? Are you related to him?"

"I'm... A friend. But, I plan on staying until he's cleared..."

"Then, can I get a name? I'll make sure to come and find you myself." The nurse was trying to force a positive perspective into his mind, but he couldn't help the way he was thinking.

Still, he nodded. "I'm Mark. Mark Chasity."

He was directed to the closest waiting area, and there he sat, staring at his reflection in the screen of Ted's phone. Ted had given him the passcode, but he hadn't figured out what he was going to say. He had his hope staked on the fact that he was going to live through it, but there was no guarantee, especially since both bullets were likely still in there! What if they couldn't save him? What if he had to conduct another phone call to this brother because Ted hadn't pulled through?

He really didn't want to think like that, but did he really have another option?

Forcing himself to rationalise for a moment, Mark finally caved and opened Ted's phone. His brother... That was all the information he'd gotten. No name, no indication whether he was older or younger... Given that Mark didn't even know he had a brother, he thought it fair to assume that Ted was the oldest, and he was asking him to chase up someone younger than him.

He scanned the list of contacts, trying to see if there were any names he could rule out. There were a couple of people listed only by surname, who were ruled out as being co-workers or people he didn't really care about all that much. Then there was Paul, who was promptly ruled out on account of the guy sounding too old, and Bill, who Mark actually thought he knew.

That didn't leave him with a lot of options. The one that stood out was a guy listed as Pete. Going off the history, Ted talked to Pete a lot, but normally, it was Pete who called him. And Ted had definitely talked about picking up a woman at the Honey Festival, so that ruled out that possibility.

He decided to call the number. If he was wrong, then maybe Pete could point him in the right direction.

Within a few rings, the person on the other end of the line picked up, and Mark sighed to try and alleviate the tension he felt at his shoulders.

"Hey, Ted. Uh, where are you? I kinda lost track of things, and I can't remember where you said you were headed..."

Mark registered the voice as that of a teenager, probably no older than he was when he last saw Ted. No matter what it was he did expect, it wasn't that. He blinked, wishing he could answer that question in a simple way. "I'm not Ted... Are you his brother?"

Pete suddenly drew back. "Yeah..? Who are you?"

"My name's Mark. I'm an old friend of his."

“Who is that, Pete? Sounds like my dad…”

Mark heard another voice in the background, one that he recognised immediately. He raised an eyebrow. "Grace?" he muttered, not even realising he'd said it out loud. Then it hit him. Grace had mentioned going to the Honey Festival with a few friends, and one of them had been Pete. Though his surname had escaped her, Mark had just connected the fact that his daughter was friends with Ted Spankoffski's younger brother. What a coincidence that was...

"I think it *is* your dad..." Pete whispered. Then, he cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the conversation. "Mr Chasity, why d'you have my brother's phone?"

He couldn't draw this out for any longer. It wouldn't do him any good, and it definitely wouldn't do Pete any good to be kept in waiting, talking to someone else over his brother's phone. But, the words and the admittance didn't come easily. He sighed, telling himself to just get a grip, man up and stop thinking about the life he'd left behind all those years ago. For god's sake, he was a married man! With a daughter! He didn't even deserve to be thinking about anyone else in the way he was, especially not a man!

"Your brother's been taken into theatre, Peter. I- I didn't find him in a good way..."

"Wh-what happened to him?" Pete asked, his voice breaking. Mark felt awful, this kid sounded so worried...

"He got shot." Mark paused, hearing the gasp tear from Pete's throat and the way he immediately tried to cover it up. At least he had a reason to react like that...

To give the kid a bit of closure, he decided to go on, but not before heaving a sigh. "I wish I know what happened. He didn't explain it all that well, but I found him trying to get away from something- someone. He's... He's still alive, Peter, and I pray it stays that way, but right now-"

"You don't know..."

"Nobody does. I'm sorry you had to find out like that, but I'm staying, and I'll update you when he gets out of there."

Pete nodded, fully aware that Mark couldn't see it. His other hand had clenched without him even realising it, and he was trying to fight off the threat of tears. "Okay. Okay... Thank you, Mr Chasity..."

Mark left Pete to his own devices, mainly to try and wrap his head around his own stream of thoughts. It was messy, Ted was there a lot, and Mark had to ask himself why he really found himself caring as much as he did.

Did he still think of Ted in the same way? Even if he'd probably moved on, and every single instinct was telling him not to chase it?

He remembered the way Ted would light up when he got excited, and the way he just knew when something was wrong. Every time he saw the signs, he made an effort to pull Mark out and give them a space where it was just the two of them. He let him talk. God only knows, Ted was known for being talkative, he could carry a conversation with anyone. But, when they sat on a bench together and watched the world go by, he fell into a delightful silence.

If he put it to himself in a different way... If he met Ted now, would he still be as interested?

There was a whole load of problems in high school. He was just about figuring himself out, and Ted had always seemed so comfortable in himself... He radiated a confidence that Mark could only aspire to have. It was truly admirable.

Not to mention, the way he'd looked at him when he recognised him...

Oh, who was he kidding? He would definitely still go to Ted if given the choice.

And now he could be dead.

Mark's eyes darted towards the door, desperately wishing he knew what was going on behind the wall. His head fell into his hands, and he felt tears gather into his palms. Oh, the things he could make himself say if Ted were just here... Right now... Alive and not suffering two bullet wounds from a crazy lady.

"Mr Chasity?"

After what felt like forever, he heard someone approaching him, and looked up slowly, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. The nurse from before was standing there, hands clasped in front of her. In a matter of moments, he straightened up, and replaced his glasses back against the bridge of his nose. "So... How did it go?" He asked, not realising how wary he would sound until his voice came out and it shook.

"We managed to get both bullets out. But, Mr Spankoffski had already lost a lot of blood before he got to us. He needed a transfusion... But the good news is, he pulled through."

"He's alive?" Mark's eyes went wide.

"He's alive. My team's transferred him to the first floor, if you'd like to go up and see him."

He nodded, a little too eagerly. "Yes... Please."

"I have to get back to it, but if you take the elevator up, and take a left, you'll find him in room six. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

The nurse walked away. Mark felt the weight of his own phone in his pocket, the shirt tied around his shoulders, and his heart, as it sank further and further into the anxiety induced pit he'd created out of constant thinking.

He didn't even think about calling Pete until he was up the elevator and walking the corridors, trying to find room six. When he got close, as if he was daring himself to go ahead and push open the door, he finally got out Ted's phone and rang the number he'd called before.

Pete picked up quickly, but it was clear that he wasn't ready for the news just yet, and he was with others.

"It's okay, Pete. Go on, it might be good news." A girl assured, and Mark heard Pete sigh in a way that indicated that he'd been crying. He didn't blame him at all. Eventually, Pete composed himself enough to form a sentence.

"Hey, Mr Chasity..."

Mark braced himself and pushed open the door to the right room. "Hi, Peter." He didn't want to look. He didn't want to see that the nurse was wrong. But he did, because Pete was still on the other line.

"H-how'd it go?"

A man was laying in the bed, propped up by a few of those awful pillows they had in reserve especially for hospitals. His hair was down, and a little longer than Mark was expecting, but there was a certain level of colour in his cheeks that hadn't been there before. Ted was alive. He was alive, and he was looking right at him, ushering him in with a glance. Mark complied, and closed the door behind him.

"He made it. He's here... They got him through."

"... ‘s that Pete?"

Ted's voice pulled him out of the moment. It was a rasp, and barely there, but Mark caught it. His eyes darted over, and he nodded, while the girls in the background of Pete's call muttered something he didn't catch. Ted gestured Mark over weakly, and asked for his phone back. Mark didn't even bother to argue the case. He handed Ted the phone, and sat back into the hideously coloured chair by the side of the bed. His leg bounced. He looked everywhere other than at Ted.

Ted managed a smile, seeing the name illuminating his phone screen. He glanced at Mark for a moment, and then tried to focus on the here and now. "Hey, nerd..." He managed, catching how strained he sounded. He hadn't sounded this bad before the operation, right? Right?

Pete gasped at the familiar voice on the other side of the phone, quiet and forced as it was. "Ted! Oh my fucking- Oh my god! I- Mr Chasity said you got shot, what the hell happened?"

Ted laughed. It sounded like a broken sob. "I got shot twice, man. That's some- serious shit."

"C'mon, Ted, don't fucking joke about it!"

"Fine, fine... I'm sorry. Don't worry, though, yeah? I'm- fine." He didn't even sound sure of himself anymore. The IV lines connected to his arm really didn't make him look fine either. "I'm... Okay."

"I'm gonna stay with Steph tonight... Uh, you're not comin' home, right?" Now he was apprehensive. The plans had been made, but he would drop everything on a dime to make sure that Ted wasn't alone when he was fresh out of hospital and recovering from literally being shot.

Ted glanced at everything that looked like a pretty good indicator of the chances of him going home. The blood transfusion, the way his hands were shaking uncontrollably, like he'd just had the fright of his life... Even down to how pale he looked under the harsh lights, and the sweat that still beaded on the back of his neck. "I don't think so, Pete... Look, I get it. You- hate this place, probably don't wanna drop by, but I'll- I'll be back by tomorrow or the day after... So it basically never happened, right?"

Pete went silent for a second, trying to mull that over. "God... I wish you'd stop acting like this was normal."

"I promise. I'll be okay."

When he was left alone on the line, Ted sighed a little and dropped his phone. With his free hand, he reached towards Mark without thinking, wondering whether it was a case of him just missing the old times. He was less surprised at himself reaching out than at Mark's reaction. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second, and then laced his fingers in-between Ted's.

Ted's eyes widened. He glanced over at Mark, and felt his face heat up.

"Well, you offered..." Mark argued, stammering.

Ted glanced between him and their hands. It was just them in the room. Suddenly, he felt seventeen again, pulling Mark to some forgotten nowhere corner of Hatchetfield High. "I'm not complainin','' He smiled, weakly squeezing his hand. Mark frowned when he felt it, but that was it. That was all the strength he had.

"You're not?"

"Why would I? You're one of- the best things that's ever happened to me, I know you got a wife and all that, but... Y'know."

He hadn't meant to say that out loud. No matter how true it was. God damn this morphine dosage making him say things he.. Actually meant? He’d heard people got more honest when they got drunk, but nobody had ever said anything about what happened when someone was high on painkillers! He wasn’t expecting it, but as he said, he couldn’t find himself complaining.

This was Mark.

This was everything they wanted when they were students! Well… Asides from the gunshots and the being stuck in a goddamn hospital for who knows how long… But, a guy couldn’t have everything.

“What?”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t- don’t pretend you didn’t know that already.”

He read the room, looking in particular at Mark’s expression, and how… Confused he looked.

Oh.

“You’re… Not pretending, are you?”

Mark stopped, then shook his head slowly.. “I assumed… Well-” But what had he assumed? When he stopped talking to Ted, he’d sent a final letter to his home address about a month after, explaining everything. How everything he felt had been real, how he hadn’t meant for it to go like this, but it was dangerous, and he wasn’t going to risk Ted’s freedom after he’d so willingly thrown away his own.

I don’t want to release you, Teddy… But I have to. You understand, I hope, but no matter what happens, it will always be you. I just wish I could choose you and make it easy.

He sighed, bringing himself back into the moment. “I assumed you’d take the note the wrong way. That, when we stopped seeing each other… That was it.”

“What… Forever?”

“I thought so…”

Ted paused. He still had that letter somewhere. It was probably in the same place he kept Jenny's, a solid reminder of his constant failures in the pursuit of romance. "You're here now, aren't you?"

"Yeah?"

"And I mean, you've got that perfect little family of yours to go back to, and yet you're still here... With the guy who helped you find her."

"I'm not gonna let you bleed out on the asphalt somewhere, am I?"

"I dunno, anyone else would've."

Mark's cheeks flushed. After asking himself those questions in the waiting room, he'd decided that it was the current moment, or nothing. Ted had had a lucky break, surviving both of those shot wounds... And he really didn't want to crush whatever mood they had going. "I don't wanna go back for them..."

Ted's eyebrow raised. If he could've, he would've leaned forwards a little, resting eagerly on Marks every word. There always had been something about him that was so indescribable, and whatever it was was absolutely shining right now. "Okay, so what do you want, then?"

"You, Ted. I want you."

#starkid #hatchetfield #ted spankoffski #mark chasity #holy bastard #ohhhh my god what am i doing #olivia. sam. oswald... this is for you guys #and the rest of the holy bastard folks but idk how many of us there are #void offering #tw injury #tw blood

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