Marshall isn't entirely sure when it had happened.
In fact, Marshall isn't very sure about anything anymore.
„Have you brought the booze?" Ted's head appears in the doorway to his kitchen and he looks around. He finds Marshall with his hands on the six pack of beer, his head hanging low and in deep thought. As he becomes aware he is not alone anymore, his head snaps upward and he grins, but it's a forced grin.
„Marshall?" Ted asks simply, and Marshall hates himself for putting this level of concern in his best friends voice.
„Yeah no, it's nothing." he says quickly.
It really is nothing. Marshall should not even be thinking this way.
„You've always been a bad liar." Ted's eyebrows furrow, but he leaves it at that. He snatches the six pack from under Marshall's startled look.
Later, he follows Ted in the living room to the TV. Barney is already waiting.
„I've ordered pizza. Sit down." he says. He sits in the middle of the sofa, again, and Marshall is thankful because that means that he doesn't have to sit beside Ted. It means that their thighs wont touch accidentally, and that their hands wont brush when handing over pizza.
Marshall obliges. For once, it doesn't bother him that Barney thinks himself most important, and wants to be, literally, in the middle of thinks, best friends to them both.
A show is on, but Marshall barely registers which one. Ever so often, his eyes flit to their corners, but he only sees Barney's profile. It's good, he's covering up Ted.
Marshall is not sure whether that's good or bad, actually.
Marshall is not sure what has changed.
„You aren't drinking!" Ted exclaims after a while. Open pizza boxes are sprawled in front of them.
„I … err... still have work later." Marshall says, but Barney and Ted wont hear it.
„Work? Come on you're joking, it's sunday, dude!" Barney shouts and before Marshall knows it, he is squeezed tightly between his friends.
His nose is filled with pizza, and a distinct scent of aftershave and pineapple. He wants to close his nose from it, but freshly sharp-sweet it makes his mind hazy.
Barney manages to wrap his arms around his chest, and pulls him back so that he's awkwardly sprawled across his lap. Of course, Marshall protests, but it doesn't help much as his hands are on his back now and every movement sends sharp pain through his body. Barney laughs, and so does Ted. If only he had a rape whistle.
Ted giggles madly as he closes in with a beer bottle in his hands. Marshall can only struggle so much, and he knows he is fighting a lost battle.
„Stop! I'll drink, Stop!" he hated the panicked note his voice carries.
„Oh no, you had enough time!" Barney's fingers close around his jaw painfully, digging into his cheeks. Involuntarily, he opens his mouth.
Ted has only waited for that, because as soon as Marshall's lips are parted, he tips the bottle over his mouth. Bitter ale gushes into his mouth and before last, spills from the corner of his lips and runs down his chin.
„Oops." Ted says, but he isn't really sorry. He's still giggling.
Marshall swallows, because really, what else is he supposed to do.
„One more!" Barney shouts.
„Stop, stop!" Marshall wriggles in his grip. At least the panicked edge has disappeared from his voice. After all, this is quite funny.
Ted tips the bottle again, and again, and again. Marshall can hardly keep up with swallowing, and most of the ale, mingled with neglected strings of saliva, dribbles down his chin. By the time they're finished with him and Barney releases his arms, he's soaked in beer. His shirt is soaked and sticks to his chest.
He raises a hand in an attempt to at least get the ale off his chin, but is stopped by Ted.
„It's my fault really." something in Ted's voice changed. It is almost dangerously low.
Marshall isn't sure anymore whether the marriage was a good or a bad thing.
Marshall isn't sure if he loves Lily anymore.
Ted is way too close. Their eyes meet, and Marshall wonders if Barney is watching. Suddenly his fingers are cold, and his breath stuck in his throat. He swallows heavily. His heart is racing at eight-thousand miles per hour, thundering loudly against his ribs. He wonders if Ted and Barney can hear it.
It isn't right, he shouldn't be feeling like this. They have only been best friends for years, why now? Marshall can feel the tension in his shoulders, his cramped fingers, he dares not to move because Ted is so close. His body slowly fills with heat.
He can't take it. He shuffled backward hastily, into Barney's lap again, Barney is better than Ted.
Ted's eyes furrow and Barney grunts.
„What?" he asks.
„N-Nothing."
Shit, he had stopped stuttering in elementary school.
„I-I need to go to the bathroom." Marshall lies. Before either of his friends can reply, he jumps up from his seat and flees into Ted's bathroom.
He slams the door shut, hearing Barney mumble something about 'usually not being so jumpy'. He swallows, brushing his hand through his hair. He leans his hot forehead against the cold mirror, trying to cool his mind. It's impossible with Ted's ringing laugh still in his ears. He can hear them talk outside.
„Shit.." he mumbles as he looks down between his legs. He needs to sort himself out, badly.
He wants to bang his head against the mirror, but he is afraid that they will hear, or that it might break. He hears the door of Ted's apartment open and close.
„I brought drinks, now make space." says a demanding voice outside. „Where's Marshall?"
Marshall's heart twists painfully with guilt. He can't return in the state he is. He can impossibly greet her with a raging hard-on that someone who is not her has caused. He is doomed, Marshall is. If he had any decency, he would fling himself out of Ted's bathroom window right now. He covers his eyes with an arm. It is impossible that he feels like this. It can't be.
Marshall isn't sure anymore what he is going to do.
Marshall isn't sure what is the right thing to do.
What do you think? Liked it? Want me to continue? Let me know! Cheers, Macmillaine