TWs: Panic attack, talk of panic attacks, talk of emotional/verbal abuse.

"I mean, I was gonna suggest a board game while we wait, but your idea is way better," Ted replied while a shy smile slid into place as he inched closer to Trent. "I would like very much for you to kiss me. More than very much."

Noses bumped gently into cheeks and Ted's mustache brushed Trent's skin, feeling softer than Trent imagined it would. Trent's arms instinctively wrapped around Ted as Ted's hands clung to Trent's sides, fingers pressing into Trent's t-shirt and the tie of his apron. Ted tasted of coffee far sweeter than what had been in Trent's cup.

Neither seemed to want to pull away, but, as they did, there was an unspoken promise in each other's eyes that their first kiss was certainly not going to be their last.

Trent felt lighter in a way he hadn't in years. A sense of calm settled over him as he realized his feelings for Ted all these months had mattered—that they were real and valid and reciprocated even though every ounce of himself had tried to convince himself otherwise.

Ted looked flustered, though. There was a sparkle to his gaze that made it seem like he was having a euphoric reaction to what just happened, but also an overall heaviness about him like maybe the kiss was actually an undertow about to take Ted below some dark surface Trent hadn't known they were near.

"Are you okay?" Trent asked gently, anchoring his hands on Ted's hips, hoping to provide some sort of support in this moment of seeming uncertainty.

Ted's nod came in small jerky motions as he chewed on his lip, his eyes darting away from Trent's while his eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not the wordsmith you are, so this is gonna come out clunky… but it's like I just got an answer to a question I've been askin' for a long time. But instead of feelin' closure, a bunch more questions just came outta the woodwork and I might be…" Ted blinked a couple times and shook his head.

When Trent noticed Ted's breathing pick up, he realized what was happening. He glanced around the kitchen and didn't think that was the safest place for Ted to be during a panic attack. "It's going to be okay, Ted. This will pass. I'm right here with you." Ted's eyes closed and he kept shaking his head. "Let's get this apron off of you first, okay?"

The head shakes turned into a small nod, so Trent got to work. Keeping one hand on Ted's hip, Trent slid his other one around Ted's back and pulled at the bow holding the apron tie together, grateful it came undone easily. He moved his hand quickly but carefully up Ted's arm, trying to keep contact with him so he wouldn't startle Ted as his hand got closer to his neck to gently pull the apron's neck loop over Ted's head. Focusing on Ted the whole time, Trent reached behind him to drape Ted's apron over the back of a chair.

"That's better," Trent said softly. "Is it all right if I put my arm around you?" He waited for another nod and then moved his hand from Ted's hip around the back of him to settle on his opposite side. "How about we go sit down together in the other room?"

Another shaky nod, but it was a nod.

"Right, here we go," Trent said encouragingly. Thankfully, it was a short trek to the living room and Trent fairly easily guided Ted around the chairs and coffee table to the two-seater. "Would you like some water?" Trent asked as he helped Ted sit.

Ted shook his head again. Some tears had worked their way to the corners of his eyes, but they hadn't fallen. "You don't have to stay," he said, voice uneven.

Trent frowned. He took his glasses off, untied his own apron, and yanked the neck loop over his head. It got caught on his ponytail, but he managed to remove the floral monstrosity. Trent draped the apron over the back of the nearest chair, folded his glasses and put them on the coffee table, then took his hair out of its hairband before sitting down next to Ted.

"That night at the pub, when I asked you for a quote and you told me you had food poisoning, I was on a date," Trent said quietly as he moved his leg so that it was pressed against Ted's. "His name was Jude like the Beatles song and he had a mustache. When he kissed me, all I could wonder was if that's what it would be like to kiss you."

Ted was still breathing a bit heavier than he should, but Trent watched his mouth twitch up into a tiny smile and his hand flip over palm-side-up over where their legs were touching.

Trent rested his palm to Ted's and they closed their fingers around each other. It wasn't until Ted's tight grip on Trent's hand loosened a bit that Trent spoke up again. His voice was soft. His tone, honest. "That was my first date since Thomas died and I spent it thinking about you, full-well knowing that kissing you was never going to happen."

"But it did happen," Ted said with a tired chuckle. "And you literally took my breath away while doin' it, sir."

"What happened in there, Ted?" Trent asked gently.

"I had wondered that too, ya know… what it'd be like to kiss you," Ted said as shook his head. "And then you went and lit me up like a fireworks finale. And… what did ya call 'em? My puzzle pieces? They were all slidin' into place. Parts of myself felt whole for the first time in a while and then…" Ted made the sound of an explosion. "Instant worry about lettin' you down. Wonderin' why it took me this long to figure out things about myself. Wonderin' what else there is I still don't know. Wonderin' if you have the patience to deal with that. Wonderin' if I even have the right to ask that of you." Ted sighed. "If you think I talk too much, be glad you can't hear what's goin' on up in the old noggin' because it's a lot."

Trent squeezed Ted's hand. "May I tell you what my first thought was after we kissed?" Ted nodded. "Relief." Ted's face crumbled. "There's worry there too. And I'm ashamed to tell you how many times I thought about cancelling this week. But your text about the apples—that's why I'm here," Trent said. "You're why I'm here, Ted. You and all your puzzle pieces."

"Even the blank ones?"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're not even the only person in this room who is still trying to figure himself out," Trent said matter-of-factly, but not at all unkind.

"You sure put up a good front, sir," Ted said. "Last week when you were waitin' for me in the parkin' lot, it looked like you had everything figured out." Trent couldn't help but scoff at how wrong Ted was. "What?"

Still holding hands, Trent shifted around and tucked a leg under himself so he could fully face Ted. "When I was a child, my sister told me that no one has things figured out. Not even grownups."

Ted's eyebrows slid up in anticipation. "And?"

"And she was right!" Trent exclaimed. "I mean, I figured some things out—like that I was gay and that I wanted to write—but the other really big stuff like being a parent, or what's next for my career, or all these feelings I've been avoiding is still a huge fucking mystery."

"Seriously? I had never seen you lookin' so at peace with life, leanin' against that wall with your fancy shoes and your shiny hair—"

"—At peace with life?" Trent interjected. "I literally had an existential crisis a couple hours before I saw you. I told you my father had rattled me that morning. He's been on my case forever about how I look. How I dress. Who I love. I got so in my head about it, I got lost coming home from his house after dropping Alice off," Trent said with a sigh. "Ended up at the salon I take Alice to. I asked the stylist to get rid of everything so I could start over like I had done several times when I was younger after one of his 'pep talks.' That's the only reason why my hair was shiny, Ted. Because someone talked me down and helped me instead of letting me make a rash decision in the moment," he admitted. "The only peace I had that day was knowing I would see you."

Ted's face softened at Trent's confession. "I know I can't say anything to fix your situation with your dad, so I'm not even gonna try," Ted said. "But, here's what I've figured out about you. What I know about you. You are a good person. You are a good writer. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life just as you are. Your hair is majestic, but it's also your business. I do get a kick out of it, though, hiny or not," Ted said with a small smile as he reached up and gently tucked Trent's hair behind his ear. "In the press room, I'd try to figure out your mood based on how much of the white part I could see. Then when you'd ask your question, I'd find out if I was right."

"Were you often right?" Trent asked. Ted nodded. "So what's my mood now?"

Ted cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes, trying to make it look like he was really weighing heavily on his answer. "Mmmm, okay… yeah… I think I know."

"And?" Trent asked. He wasn't sure what the state of his hair was at the moment. It had looked okay on the way over (though he hadn't been able to get it quiet as smooth as Jes had), but after putting it in a ponytail and taking it out again, all without looking in a mirror, he didn't know how much of the white streak was showing. His mood was all over the place, as far as he could tell. (Talking about his dad was never pleasant, but being around Ted was.) Regardless, Trent was sure any mood would improve by kissing Ted again.

"You gotta ask a question first." When Trent's expression slid into one that asked Seriously?, Ted chuckled, still tired. "Rules are rules, Trent Crimm, Independent."

Trent smirked and squinted at Ted, both annoyed by and appreciative of Ted's dedication to the process. He let go of Ted's hand, pulled out a mini notebook and pen from his trousers pocket, opened it to a fresh page, and got ready to take a quote.

"Coach Lasso—from what I've observed, you are extremely generous of your time and patience with other people. Your thoughtfulness is unparalleled," Trent said stone-faced as Ted's face flushed. "My question is, what, may I ask, is something you've done strictly for yourself recently?"

Ted chewed on his bottom lip and smiled. "Asked to buy you a drink last week." Trent wanted more than anything for Ted to expand on his answer, but from how pink Ted's cheeks were, he wasn't going to pry right then. "I was right, by the way."

"About what?" Trent asked.

"Your mood," Ted said as he gently took Trent's notebook and pen from his hand and set them on the coffee table next to his glasses. While Trent was trying to process how that was the first time anyone had the audacity to touch his things, Ted situated himself in a mirror pose of Trent, with his own leg tucked under. "I now realize I should have asked before touchin' your notebook and I promise I will never do that again. But thank you for makin' me feel safe after what happened in the kitchen. I know that was a lot."

"Thank you… and you're welcome," Trent said as he tried to get a read of what Ted was thinking, staring at him like he was.

They sat there for a few moments. Ted smiling like he had a secret and Trent wondering if he could ask Ted what Ted thought his mood was or if it was all right to kiss him again. (Though perhaps he should wait for Ted to initiate something since their last kiss caused Ted to have a panic attack.)

The oven timer was a loud enough distraction to pull them both from their silent contemplations.

Ted got up from the two-seater first and Trent followed him into the kitchen. The scent of cinnamon permeated the room as soon as Ted opened the oven door.

"Can you grab the foil? It's on the table somewhere. Thanks," Ted said as he slid on two oven mitts and took the pie out, placing it on a rack he had set up on the counter.

Foil in hand, Trent joined Ted at the counter. "How much do you need?"

"I think three strips about three inches wide apiece should do it," Ted said. Before Trent could say something about the metric system, Ted was quick to add, "It's an American recipe, so we gotta use American units of measure, obviously." He held out his fingers more than several centimeters apart. "That wide, please and thank you."

Trent couldn't help but smile as he tore three pieces of foil for Ted, all roughly the same width. He watched Ted fold each strip in half and bend it around the crust of the pie. When Ted was done, the T + T he had carved into the pie's center was still visible. It was a little askew because the crust had baked a bit, but it was legible.

Like they had done this a thousand times instead of just once before, Ted slid the pie into the oven and Trent shut the door while Ted took off his oven mitts and set the timer for another 30 minutes.

"So… you wanna kiss me again," Ted said after he put the oven mitts on the counter. Trent was taken aback at how Ted phrased that as a fact instead of a question. (It was true, but how did he know?) "I told ya… I guess your mood. You ask a question." Ted settled a hand on Trent's waist as Trent had done to him before. "Was I right?" The way Ted's eyes locked eagerly with Trent's nearly made Trent forget to breathe. "You can, you know," Ted said softly.

Ted was so gentle toward him. So giving. So selfless.

Realization of why hit Trent like a bolt of lightning.

"You can too," Trent replied as he took a small step back from Ted and grabbed Ted's hand as it fell from his waist, holding on to it securely so Ted hopefully wouldn't take Trent's action as a rejection because that was not his intent. "You're a far better observer of people than I. I know you are. All those things I said about Thomas… you're not him, Ted. I know that and I know I've got to keep working on that. But you can't let me make all the choices now because I didn't get to before. That's not fair to either of us. And you…" Trent's words trailed off as he shook his head. "I don't know what happened in your marriage, but you've got to give the next person a chance to let them know you. The you you keep saying is too much. And if you decide that's me, please don't try and protect me from something someone else couldn't handle because maybe I can."

There were tears in Ted's eyes that Trent knew he had caused. He felt he was right, though he also felt that he overstepped. If they were going to try and see if there was something more between them, they had to see the other person for themselves and not everything their prior partner was or wasn't. That was far easier said than done, but Trent couldn't stand the thought of Ted thinking he had to censor parts of himself or put himself down around him.

Trent immediately tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, Ted. I shouldn't have said that."

"Maybe not, but I'm sure glad you did," Ted said with a sniffle, hand still in Trent's. "In fact, I'm gonna need you to write that down so I can show Doc next time I see her because that'll save me an entire session of circlin' that topic." He chuckled. "Wooooo… this is easily the most intense date I've ever been on."

"That does not sound like a compliment," Trent said sheepishly.

"Oh, I assure you, it is," Ted replied. "Here I am thinkin' I'm gonna keep screwin' things up because I don't know what I'm doin' or I'm doin' too much, and there you are, fightin' like heck for us to give each other an actual chance. All of this after I have a panic attack and us talkin' about pretty much everything you're not supposed to when you're just gettin' to know someone, accordin' to all the datin' websites I been scourin' all week. Individually, we got some stuff workin' against us, Trent. Together, though… well, shit… we might be on to somethin'."

"Really?" Trent asked, genuinely surprised.

"Really," Ted said. "Ourselves and our pasts… that's what's trippin' us up. Not each other. But we're talkin' about it, ain't we?" Ted shrugged and laughed. "No one told us to do it, we just kinda found our way into some heavy stuff. And it's ugly at hell, but at the same time it's kinda beautiful, you know?"

"And that doesn't scare you?" Trent asked.

"It scares the heck outta me!" Ted exclaimed. "But that's part of it, right? You even said it yourself… you can be both terrified and happy about somethin' at the same time. I haven't been this happy in a while, Trent. Spendin' time with you makes me happy."

"But the panic attack…"

"…was just because I was overwhelmed, I swear. You kissed me and all of a sudden somethin' I'd been thinkin' about for a while instantly became real and it broke my brain for a bit. That's all," Ted said. From the honest look in Ted's eyes, Trent believed him. "What about you? Are you happy?" No one had asked that of Trent in a while except for his sister and it caught him off guard. "You deserve to be, Trent." Ted squeezed Trent's hand.

Trent nodded in thanks, unable to find the words to tell Ted that he was so many things all at once. Happy was one of them.

They still had some time to kill before the pie was done, but, after the conversation they just had, kissing in the kitchen again didn't feel right (despite how right it felt before). Trent reminded Ted that he had mentioned board games earlier and Ted suggested chess. Both admitted to not being very good, but neither cared.

Trent excused himself to the bathroom while Ted set up the board. As Trent washed his hands, he checked his hair in the mirror. It looked pretty much like how it did when he left his flat earlier that afternoon. Because of the off-center part, the white streak was mostly hidden. He didn't know what to do with the information that Ted had been staring at him so intently during press conferences. He wondered when that started as he continued to wonder so many things about Ted Lasso.

No one had won the chess match by time the oven timer went off. Trent followed Ted to the kitchen, curious to see how their pie turned out.

As far as pies go, it looked good. The foil prevented the crust from burning. Their differing methods of sealing the pie crust worked, as the filling didn't bubble out while baking. The T + T was still there on the top of the crust. The lines were a bit wavy and some filling had snuck up and coated one of the Ts, but it was there for all to see. Trent took a picture of the pie, admitting it was to show his sister when he picked up Alice the next day. Ted also took a picture. Trent wondered who Ted would show the picture to. He wondered who from Ted's life, if anyone, knew about him being on a date with a man. He hoped Ted had someone to talk to about it.

"I know we're supposed to let this cool for a bit, but I say screw it. What say you, sir?" Ted asked as he started to move whatever was left on the kitchen table to what little open space there was on the counter.

Trent immediately began to help, putting the smaller bottles of ingredients into an empty bowl so they wouldn't get lost among the dirty dishes and leftover apples they hadn't peeled. "I'm eager to try some. Hot pie has certainly got to be better than spicy curry, I'd imagine," he said with a smile.

"We should go back there sometime," Ted said. "There's gotta be mild Indian food, right?"

"Have you not had it since?" Trent asked. When Ted laughed, he knew the answer was no.

Ted dug around in a drawer and pulled out a knife and a large spoon. "Would you mind grabbin' some bowls from that tall cabinet over there." He gestured toward the other side of the kitchen with his head. "This ain't gonna cut nice. I won't tell nana that we didn't wait for it to get to room temperature. Or that we're usin' canned whipped cream instead of homemade."

Trent smiled to himself as he got two bowls and placed them near Ted and the pie. He went to the fridge without being told and grabbed the can of whipped cream from the door.

"We call this squirty cream here, you know," Trent said as he held up the can to show Ted.

"Yeah, and y'all sound silly sayin' it," Ted said as he shook his head. "And I guess this is the part where you say I sound silly in general for talkin' like this."

"I quite like your accent," Trent said, surprising both of them.

"Oh really? Well, I fancy yours as well," Ted said with a smile. "How much do you want of this?"

Trent shrugged. "As much as you're having."

"Since I'm still tryin' to impress ya, I'm gonna use some restraint with slice size… or spoon size, I guess," Ted laughed. "Man, this is basically apple pie stew." He did his best to scoop out two even spoonfuls of the pie.

"Would you like a water or something?" Trent asked, not quite realizing how odd it was to offer Ted a drink in his own home.

"I got some beer in the fridge," Ted said. "There's filtered water in there. Milk. Juice. Whatever you want."

"I'll have a beer," Trent said as he opened the fridge again. "And for you?"

"I'll take one too, thanks," Ted said as he put the bowls of pie on the table and grabbed two soup spoons from the utensil drawer.

They sat at the same time. Trent put a bottle of beer near Ted's bowl and Ted held out the whipped cream for Trent to use first.

"Thank you," Trent said as he took the whipped cream and shook the can. It wasn't that everything was routine, because it very much was not, but he felt comfortable being in Ted's kitchen and being with Ted despite all that had happened that afternoon.

The whipped cream melted as soon as it made contact with the pie and they both laughed.

"This is why I asked what your second favorite dessert was," Ted said as he stirred the melted cream into his bowl, making a swirl pattern in the pie filling. "Couldn't have us ruinin' your favorite thing."

"On the contrary, I don't think we've ruined anything," Trent said. "We may have, just now, invented a new type of dessert."

Ted smiled and looked fondly Trent. "Thank you for today," Ted said. "Look, I know this is a first date, but I'm really hopin' it's not a last one."

Trent slid his foot under the table to find Ted's and was immediately reminded that they both were in their socks. It was weirdly intimate and almost comical, but very much felt comfortable and right. "I was hoping the same thing," Trent replied, proud of himself for saying what he wanted out loud.

Smiles of all kinds passed between the two as they ate their too-hot pie. Shy gazes, genuine grins, easy laughter, and teasing nudges abounded while they finished eating and then shifted into cleanup mode. Ted tried to tell Trent that he could handle the mess on his own, but Trent was insistent on helping.

The domesticity of it all was something Trent hadn't realized he missed so much. After being responsible for the cooking and cleaning for all of his 30s and then the past few years, he forgot how nice it was to have someone to talk to in the kitchen. Chores were infinitely more fun when there was someone there to keep you company. Little touches as you passed each other while putting things away. Sharing a hand towel. Admiring each other from across the room. Appreciating just being near each other.

The kitchen was pretty much spotless by time they were done. Trent checked his phone and saw it was almost 4:30. He had nowhere to be, but he also knew he needed to leave before he started overthinking things.

"You don't have to go," Ted said softly as he leaned into Trent against the counter.

"But that's why I should," Trent replied, running a hand down Ted's arm. "Today was wonderful, Ted. But I can't…." He shook his head and swallowed. "I like you too much to stay."

Ted smiled and pressed his lips to Trent's. Slowly, they moved together, judiciously punctuating the end of this beginning they were mutually embarking on.

"Until next time, I guess," Ted said when they separated. "Unless… would you like me to walk you home? I mean, that was a pretty good goodbye kiss, if I do say so myself, but I'm a firm believer in makin' sure my date gets home in one piece."

"Thank you for the offer, but I think I can handle it this time," Trent said. "How about I let you know when I've made it back to my flat?"

"Sounds good," Ted said. "Let me at least wrap up that pie for you so you can try some at the temperature you're supposed to have it at. And before you try and argue with me about it, I know you saw that other pie in the fridge… you can't leave me here with two pies."

"Fine," Trent said, knowing Ted wouldn't take no for an answer.

Trent got his shoes and jacket on and collected his glasses, notebook, and pen while Ted wrapped the pie in foil and then put it in a carrying case specifically made to hold a pie.

"Why am I not surprised you have one of these?" Trent said when Ted handed him the plastic case.

Ted shrugged and smiled, seemingly aware he was odd, but not caring in the slightest.

"Thanks again for today," Ted said.

"Thank you for today," Trent replied. "I'm grateful to get to know you. I really mean that."

"I'm glad to get to know you better too," Ted said. "I'm lookin' forward to whatever's next."

Trent kissed Ted on the cheek. "I'll be seeing you, Ted."

"Yes sir," Ted said with a small bow as he opened the door for Trent.

Trent's walk back to his flat was narrated by the man muttering to himself about what he thought he messed up over the course of the date including, but not limited to, wishing he hadn't talked so much about Thomas or his dad, wondering what Ted thought his mood was (besides wanting to kiss Ted), and why he did the reasonable thing of going home instead of—at the very least—snogging Ted until sundown.

That was a conversation for another time, though. Besides that bad date with Jude, Trent hadn't been with anyone else since Thomas and he didn't know Ted's level of comfort with regard to anything.

He keyed his way into this empty flat and put the pie case on the counter. Trent locked the door, toed off his shoes, took off his jacket, and curled up on his couch.

Made it to my flat in one piece.

That was quick!

I live close by.

Good to know.

I did want to stay.

Also good to know.

There's always next time.

I mean, I will have to return the pie tin and pie case eventually.

Exactly what I was thinking.

I'd like to plan the next date, if that's all right.

That's more than all right.

I like you too much too, you know.

Just putting that out into the world.

Smiling to himself, Trent loved Ted's last two messages and then put his phone face-down on his coffee table. He knew he'd have to call his sister in a bit to check in on Alice and say goodnight to her, but right then he was completely content being the only person to know that someone he had feelings for had feelings for him too, in spite of him being (or maybe because he was) exactly himself, baggage and all.