FIC: The Funny Thing About Destiny (TO/HIMYM, Jim/Ted)
I don't know how this happened. There were LJ comments? And things got out of hand? And 6500 words of what is basically curtainfic later, here we are.
Title: The Funny Thing About Destiny
Fandom: The Office/How I Met Your Mother
Pairing: Jim Halpert/Ted Mosby
Rating: PG-13
Length: 6500 words
Summary: Jim and Ted get married and have babies? I'm not kidding.
AN: This fic is for torchthisnow, who instigated it and who now owes me some Lily/Ted. Thanks to kyrafic for the read through.
**
The fourth weekend in a row that Jim came into the city to hang out was the one when things started to change.
"Look at us," Ted said, looking at them. He and Jim and Marshall were sitting in a sad row on the couch, beer bottles scattered all over the floor. Marshall was wearing his boxers and the same t-shirt he'd worn for the past three days in a row, and was beginning to smell, which meant they were going to have to make him shower again. Ted and Jim had taken off their pants in Rejection Solidarity, but it was Friday night, so Jim was still wearing his dress shirt and tie from the meetings he'd been to during the day at corporate, making him a weird mix of dapper and scruffy, his tie crooked and his suit jacket draped carefully over the back of a kitchen chair. His boxers had billiards balls all over them. Ted dropped the cold crust of his pizza back into the box and wiped his hands. "We are pathetic. This is what women do to you."
"Yeah, they do," Jim said grimly into the bottle of his beer, then took a sip.
"To the women who broke our hearts," Ted said, holding up his beer. "Robin Scherbatsky."
"Pam Beesly," Jim said.
"Lily Aldrin," Marshall said, and they clinked the necks of their bottles together. Hey, Marshall had said her name without crying, that was progress. Or else he was just incredibly, incredibly drunk.
Ten minutes later, Marshall had passed out on Jim's shoulder, so it was probably the second one.
"Man," Ted said, as he and Jim hauled Marshall towards his bedroom. "I am really glad you're here to help babysit. Marshall's way too heavy to haul around by myself."
"Tell me about it," Jim said, and adjusted his grip on Marshall's waist.
As they maneuvered Marshall into his bed and pulled the covers up over him, Jim said, "I can't believe Marshall and Lily broke up. I mean, even in college, they were like, the couple, you know?"
"No kidding," Ted said. "If Marshall and Lily can't make it, who can?" He turned off the lamp next to Marshall's bed and they went back out into the living room. Jim flopped down on the couch and started flipping channels while Ted went to get them two more beers. They'd turned off most of the lights earlier while they watched Die Hard, and when Ted came back into the room, Jim's face was shadowy in the light from the TV.
"I just don't understand it," Ted said, handing Jim a beer and sitting down on the other side of the couch. There was something lumpy underneath the cushion, and when he dug underneath he pulled out an empty beer bottle. They are a sad, sad household. "We are handsome, nice guys with steady jobs," Ted said, putting the empty bottle on the coffee table. "And I am a great boyfriend. I never forget anniversaries. I buy flowers. I am a *catch*, dammit."
Jim glanced over and smiled. "I can't believe you got turned down in front of a string quartet of blue instruments." On TV, Jim had stopped at a Star Trek rerun and Captain Picard was walking authoritatively down a space hallway.
"Me neither," Ted said. "Talk about embarrassing." They both watched the show for a few minutes. There were Klingons, or something. Ted doesn't really know much about Star Trek.
"On the other hand," Jim said. "If Marshall and Lily can break off their engagement when they've been together for ten years, Pam could too. Right?"
Captain Picard headed for the medical bay. When Ted looked at Jim, Jim's jaw was set and he was keeping his eyes fixed on the TV. "Right," Ted said. "Maybe."
There was a space battle, and beaming down to a planet.
At the commercial break, Ted said, "I don't know, I just want to get married and settle down. Aren't girls supposed to be into that?"
Jim shook his head. "I don't know, man." They've had this conversation like ten times, over and over it, Pam and Robin, Robin and Pam. All the ways the girls didn't love them back. It's like college all over again, except back then it was Keri and Beth they were obsessing over. Since Jim moved to Stamford, it's weird how easy it's been to fall back into being friends the exact same way they used to be, as though nothing's changed since they were nineteen.
"Robin doesn't even want kids," Ted said. "I don't get it."
"Yeah, Pam wasn't into kids that much either," Jim said, sitting up a little bit. "I mean, it's not like I want twenty or anything, but come on. Who wouldn't want kids? Like, two. A boy and a girl."
"Exactly!" Ted said. "Perfect."
The program came back on and they fell back into silence, drinking their beers in the dark living room. It was summer, and too hot even with the windows open, noise drifting up from the street, a low hum coming from the fan they have pointed at the couch. Ted slumped lower down, feeling sweaty even just in a t-shirt and boxers. Jim's tie fluttered a little bit every time the fan oscillated back to him.
They must have fallen asleep on the couch like that, maudlin and full of alcohol, because Ted woke up with his face smushed up against Jim's chest, drooling onto Jim's shirt, their bare legs kind of tangled together. His head was killing him and his eyes were crusty, and when he pushed himself up, Jim was blinking down at him blearily.
"Wow, look at you guys," Marshall said, wandering into the room eating dry cereal out of a box. "Hey Ted, did you drink yourself gay again?"
"What? No!" Ted said. When he looked at Jim, Jim looked a little weirded out.
"Again?" Jim said.
"He's kidding," Ted said, and got up. As he passed Marshall on the way to the bathroom, he hit him in the stomach. "Shut up, Marshall."
**
It wasn't anything, really. It was just starting to seem like a really long time between weekends, and Ted started waking up on Fridays feeling good, thinking about Jim taking the train down after work. Because it was fun, right? Guys' night. Guys' weekends. Without Lily around, and with Robin avoiding Ted, it was just him and Sad Marshall and Barney, and Jim made it more like a thing, more like a gang. He filled it out, filled up the booth, helped Barney think up pranks for the guy in the building across the street. Official Mischief Superintendent, that was Jim's title.
And so sometimes, when something funny happened at work, or Barney made Ted hit on a girl who turned out to be his cousin ("My bad!" Barney said) or Ted had to shove Marshall in the shower fully clothed just to make sure some soap and water hit his body somewhere, Ted liked to call Jim and fill him in on the gossip. And it was weird how funny things started to happen almost every day, but they did. It wasn't anything.
Jim called him too. He wanted to know how Marshall was doing, wanted to tell Ted about this guy in his office who was even worse than the old crazy guy at his old office, tell him about the bike he just bought, and maybe the phone calls were starting to be a habit. It was just nice when Jim called.
One Wednesday, Ted was getting a beer with Barney when Jim called, and the whole time that Ted talked to him, Barney watched with this weird look. When Ted hung up, he made a face at Barney and said, "What?"
"So, uh, who was that?" Barney asked. He had that look that he got when someone made a ridiculous and somewhat disturbing suggestion, like that maybe he shouldn't have a threesome.
"Huh? Oh, just Jim. He wants to have a Charlie Kaufmann marathon this weekend."
"Jim, huh?" Barney said. He took a sip of beer, still with that dubious look.
"What?" Ted said.
"No, that's cool," Barney said. "I'm totally fine with alternative lifestyles. Good for you."
Ted rolled his eyes. "That's real funny, Barney."
"No, I'm serious," Barney said. "Your face, like, lights up when he calls. It's adorable."
"What?" Ted said. "My face does not."
"It does," Barney said. "Hey, when you gay marry him, can I be your best man?"
"No, Marshall's my best ma--oh, shut up, Barney."
**
That Friday, Jim got to the apartment with a bag of DVDs, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Adaptation and Being John Malkovich. Ted was getting him a beer out of the fridge and Jim was undoing his tie to change out of his work clothes when Marshall and Barney came walking out of Marshall's room, both dressed in suits.
Ted leaned out of the kitchen. "Where are you guys going?"
"I'm taking Marshall out," Barney said. "And unlike some people, he had the decency to suit up." Marshall smiled weakly at Ted.
"I thought we were having movie night tonight," Ted said. He glanced at Jim, who shrugged and put his tie down on the counter, then started unbuttoning his dress shirt.
"Oh, yeah, well, I thought maybe you guys wouldn't mind doing that on your own," Barney said. Then he winked at Ted and in a stage whisper said, "Don't worry, I'll keep the kids out of your hair."
"Hilarious," Ted said, as Barney opened the door and he and Marshall disappeared into the hallway.
Jim didn't look at Ted as he started to switch into the navy blue t-shirt he pulled out of his bag. "What was that about?" Jim asked as he uncrumpled it.
"What? Oh, nothing," Ted said. Jim started to pull the shirt over his head. When Jim didn't say anything else, Ted caved and said, "It's so dumb. Barney thinks I have a crush on you."
There was a little hitch in Jim's movements, but his face was hidden in the middle of the shirt, and by the time Jim's head reappeared his expression was neutral. "Oh," Jim said. His t-shirt said, "A city built on rock and roll would be structurally unsound."
"Yeah, so," Ted said. "It's just Barney. Whatever."
"I mean, do you?" Jim asked.
"Do I what?"
"Have a crush on me."
"No," Ted said.
But it must have been moderately obvious that Ted was lying, because they weren't even drunk later when it happened. Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet were on the train to Montauk and Jim said, "Hey," and when Ted looked over, Jim kissed him, like he'd been thinking about it for awhile. Ted should have been surprised, but he was mostly just happy, deep in his chest.
**
They had sex for the first time the next weekend, when Ted went to Stamford to finally return the visits. Afterwards, Ted lay on his back on Jim's striped sheets watching the ceiling fan turn sluggishly in the moonlight coming through the blinds. The slats made the light lie across the bed in long thin lines. It was too hot to combine any body heat, so he and Jim were keeping a few inches apart, letting their sweat dry.
"So," Jim said. "This is different."
Ted turned his head to the side. Jim was staring up at the ceiling too. "Bad different?" Ted said.
"Nah," Jim said, and smiled. "Surprising."
"Yeah," Ted said.
The only furniture in Jim's apartment was his bed, one ratty armchair, and the television, which was on top of a stack of unpacked boxes. "I don't know," Jim said when Ted teased him. "I'm not here that much." The place looked weird and sterile, nothing on the white walls, broad expanses of empty floor.
They ordered Chinese food and ate it sprawled out on the floor in their boxers watching a Saved by the Bell marathon. Jim kept bumping Ted's leg with his foot, back and forth, like they were in 9th grade and Ted was a girl he liked sitting next to him in an assembly. Ted smiled.
"What?" Jim said.
"Nothing," Ted said. "You know. That Zach Morris. What will he get up to next?"
Jim didn't really know anyone in Stamford yet except his coworkers, which made it a weird weekend, like they'd gone away together to a bed and breakfast in Vermont or something, only a B&B with no furniture and no old people to make conversation with over breakfast. They did domestic stuff, cooked dinner together, went to the grocery store. They ran into one of Jim's coworkers there, a pretty girl. "Oh, hey, Karen," Jim said. "This is my," Ted felt like the pause went on forever, but it was probably just a second. "Friend. Ted." Ted shook Karen's hand and she didn't seem to notice anything in particular. Jim and Ted didn't talk about it, after, about what they were calling themselves.
They went down to the marina and watched the boats, waded barefoot in the water a little bit. Saturday afternoon, they went to the movies, and Ted couldn't decide whether or not to hold Jim's hand, so in the end he didn't. It was weird, being with a guy, knowing what he was supposed to do. Which, also -- they had a lot of sex, trying to figure out how that went.
"You're the one with the experience," Jim said. "Who drinks himself gay or whatever."
"Oh, yeah, I'm definitely an expert," Ted said. "I made out with a guy one time when I was 23. So I totally know what to do with lube."
"Give me that," Jim said, and grabbed it from him. Ted tried to grab it back, but Jim hit him with a pillow, and then they were both laughing and Jim ended up holding Ted's hips down and blowing him, kind of sloppy and awkward and not careful enough with his teeth. It still somehow managed to be the best blowjob Ted had ever gotten. He threaded his fingers through Jim's hair, and thought about how different life ends up than you expected.
**
How he was going to tell everybody kept worrying at Ted, keeping him up at night, but in the end he didn't even have to. The next weekend, when Jim had come into the city, Barney came over and was trying to get them all to come pick up women with him.
"Marshall, you need to get out more. Didn't we have fun last time?" Barney was standing next to the couch in his suit.
Marshall, sitting morosely in his boxers, looked up. "Not really."
"That is because when I told you to get awesome you got pathetic instead," Barney said. "That was not my fault. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him stop being a sad sack."
"Very true," Jim said from the armchair. He made eye contact with Ted and held it, both of them trying to keep from laughing.
"Come on, we are young and we are alive and we should be celebrating," Barney said. He put one hand on Jim's shoulder and the other on Ted's, his voice rising earnestly. "We are all single at the same time for the first time ever, and--" He stopped abruptly and stared at Jim, then Ted. "Oh man, you guys did it, didn't you?"
**
It was a good summer, a really good summer.
**
Their three-monthaversary was an Indian summer day at the beginning of October, bright blue skies and that crisp clear feeling of early fall, and Jim got into the city an hour before sunset. They went up to drink beer on the roof, catch the last bit of sunshine before the day ended.
They sat on a raised part of the roof, sides touching comfortably, drinking beer and watching the sun start to set behind the other buildings, the light long and stretched out over the city, talking about their days, about fall, about New York. It started getting dusky, the sunset sworling red and orange on the horizon, and chimneys of the buildings around stood up against the horizon like they were in Mary Poppins.
"Chim-chiminee, chim-chiminee, chim-chim-cheroo," Jim said idly, at a pause in the conversation.
Ted laughed. "Yeah."
"So hey," Jim said, in a sort of forced casual way, like the topic had just occurred to him. He kept looking straight ahead. "You remember how I told you about those rumors that a branch of my company might get downsized?"
"Uh huh," Ted said.
"It pretty much looks like they're going to do it," Jim said. "And, well, you remember how I hate my job?"
"Sure," Ted said. "I've met you. Are you... they aren't going to fire you, are they?"
"What? Oh, no," Jim said. "They kind of offered me a promotion. Whatever. But I was thinking -- I mean, okay. I was thinking I might quit."
"Oh yeah?" Ted said. He wasn't quite sure where Jim was going with this. "I mean, yeah. If that's what you want to do. That job is pretty craptacular."
"Yeah, I--" Jim stopped and ran his hand through his hair. "Okay, I'm not explaining this very well. What I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that I was thinking I might quit my job and move to New York. If you want."
"Oh," Ted said. When he looked over, Jim's profile was outlined against the navy blue of the sky. He could see the white tail of a jet on the horizon. "That would be...." Ted couldn't think of the word. Fantastic. Astonishing. Tremendous. Legendary. "Great," Ted finished, inadequately. "More than great. That -- really? You want to move here?"
Jim shrugged self-consciously, rubbed the back of his neck like he was fifteen. "Yeah," he said. "I really do."
**
They didn't mean to move in together right away. Jim was just going to stay with Ted and Marshall until he found a job and an apartment and moved out into his own place. And it didn't take long for him to find a job working at a non-profit, hoping that helping put an end to human rights violations would give his job a little more meaning. And he kept looking for apartments, but most of them were too expensive or too small or too far away. Ted went with him to look, every Saturday for weeks. After two months of this, Ted began to suspect that maybe neither of them really wanted him to find a place. Sure, apartment hunting in New York is balls, but it's not completely impossible.
"Heat's included?" Jim asked, poking around the tiny kitchen of a fourth-floor walkup in Queens.
"Yeah," the broker said, and went off into a spiel about how close the subway was, and how laundry was in the basement.
"I'll think about it," Jim said as they were leaving, but Ted could tell he wasn't thrilled.
On the train back to Manhattan, Ted bumped Jim with his knee. "Hey," he said. "Don't take that apartment."
Jim shrugged. "It wasn't that bad."
"No," Ted said. "I mean -- why don't you just stay with Marshall and me?"
Jim smiled slowly. "Yeah?" he asked. "You don't think that's too fast?"
"Nah," Ted said.
That night in the bar, Jim sat with his arm along the back of the booth, around Ted's shoulders, and Barney told them that they were his favorite lesbian couple. Jim and Ted just laughed.
**
Ted was the kind of guy who did nothing but think about the longterm, about commitment, but for some reason with Jim he didn't so much. With Jim he didn't have that hyperactive panic, that feeling like he needed to settle down, that fear in the back of his mind that he might end up dying alone.
So he hardly even noticed that time was going by, that they were turning into a longterm thing. Lily came back from San Francisco, and after a couple of months she and Marshall got back together. Then it was summer again, and Jim and Ted's first anniversary, and Robin and Barney hooked up, then broke up, then hooked up again. Jim figured out that he hated his miserable non-profit job, so he quit and got a job writing ad copy. He hated that too. Ted designed another skyscraper.
The next summer, Lily and Marshall got married, and Ted was the best man. He and Jim danced slow dances at the reception and went home to the apartment that was now just theirs. Lily and Marshall had gotten a new place, three blocks away.
That night in bed, Jim said, "It was a nice wedding."
"Yeah," Ted said. "I really thought they should've put disposable cameras on the tables at the reception, though. You know, so people could take candids while they're sitting there? I'm totally going to do that at my wedding."
"Definitely," Jim said. He had his eyes closed and was talking slow, like he was half asleep. "And I'd rather have an outdoor wedding than one inside. Not that the church wasn't nice, but you know."
"Totally," Ted said. "I've always thought, yeah, a June wedding. On the beach or something. Or in a really beautiful park. With flowers everywhere." He had his hand on Jim's chest, and moved his thumb against Jim's skin thoughtfully. Jim breathed a deep, contented breath, the movement of it lifting Ted's hand.
"Yeah," Jim said, his voice thick. His eyelashes were lying against his cheeks, and when Ted looked at him he was looking almost straight up Jim's goofy big nose. Jim continued sleepily, his words barely intelligible, "When we get married, we should definitely do that."
"Yeah," Ted said. Their wedding should definitely -- wait, what? "Wait, what?" Ted said, but there was no answer. Jim was asleep.
**
They did get married outside, under an arch with flowers growing all over it. Marshall and Lily and Barney stood up with Ted, and Jim had his brother and sister and friend Mark on his side. Their parents had even come to grips with the whole gay thing and were all there in the front row. The girls wore coral bridesmaid dresses, and the guys had hydrangea boutonnieres.
A surprising amount of people from Scranton came up for the wedding, considering it had been three years since Jim lived there. And considering some of them weren't invited. Apparently Jim's old boss had seen the engagement announcement in the New York Times (his girlfriend lived in the city? Or something?), and insisted that a crew of them drive up to attend. Jim rolled his eyes and muttered something to Ted about it throwing off the dinner numbers, but then invited them all to the reception anyway.
Ted met Pam, who actually was invited, in the reception line, when Jim gave her a big hug and introduced her. She looked incredibly normal, brown curly hair, nondescript eyes -- pretty, but nothing spectacular. Ted didn't know what he was expecting, exactly, that that was surprising. In the introductions and glad-you-cames and congratulations, she looked at Ted like she was trying to figure something out.
During a slow song halfway through the reception, Ted saw Jim ask Pam to dance. He... didn't know how he felt about that. He got a drink at the bar and watched them sway together.
In the middle of the song, Jim's old boss, Michael, came up and cornered him to offer his congratulations. "Good for you!" Michael said. "You know, I've never been to a gay wedding before."
"Oh yeah?" Ted said. "How's it been so far?"
"Oh, good. Fine. A lot like a straight wedding, actually, which is weird. I thought it'd be a little more flamboyant," Michael said. He lowered his voice. "So, uh, how long have you been...?"
Ted waited for a beat to see if Michael was going to finish that thought, but he didn't. "Gay?" Ted finally asked.
"Yeah," Michael said. With the tone of his voice, you would have thought he was talking about someone's cancer diagnosis.
"Oh, uh, actually, Jim's my first boyfriend," Ted said.
"Really," Michael said. "I... really? Wow. I would not have guessed that. So... you dated girls, before that?"
"Yup," Ted said.
"Yeah, we all thought Jim was straight too," Michael said. His forehead was all furrowed, worried. "So, okay, just out of curiosity, for no particular reason, I have a question for you. Since you, uh, seem to have some experience in this area."
"Um, sure," Ted said. He was looking over Michael's shoulder to see if anyone could come rescue him, but they were all dancing. Robin was slow-dancing with this sad-eyed reddish-haired guy from Scranton, one of the other ones who was actually invited.
"Okay," Michael said. "So, hypothetically, say there was this person. And this person had always been straight. I mean, really, really straight. Like, no breasts, what's the point, know what I mean?"
"Sure," Ted said. He waved at the bartender for another round.
"And say that hypothetically, this hypothetical person met another hypothetical person of the same gender, for instance, in a hypothetical office where they both work. And this second hypothetical person is really attractive -- I mean, objectively attractive, and so the first hypothetical person, you know, notices this. Not in a gay way, just in an aethe..thetic way."
"Okay," Ted said slowly.
"So that's fine, but then hypothetically this person maybe keeps thinking about this other person. Maybe he has dreams about him sometimes."
"Like... sex dreams?" Ted said. There was not enough whiskey in the world.
"No," Michael said quickly. "Well, maybe once. But it's not like this hypothetical person doesn't like women! He has a girlfriend that he really likes a lot, and she is really, really, amazingly super hot. And they have a lot of sex. Heterosexual, straight, man-on-woman intercourse. With vaginas."
"Multiple vaginas?" Ted said.
"What? No, just one," Michael said. "So my question is -- this hypothetical person is straight, right? I mean, the thoughts -- that's normal, right?"
"I don't know," Ted said, taking a sip of his drink. "It sounds to me like this hypothetical person might be a little gay."
"No," Michael said, screwing his face up and shaking his head forcefully. "He's not."
"Well, I don't know," Ted said as the song ended. Over Michael's shoulder he could see Jim bearing down on them. "I mean, from what you said, it sounds like he's kind of into this guy."
Jim finally got up to them and threw his arm around Ted's shoulders. "Hey Michael!" he said brightly. "So you've met Ted?"
Michael looked upset. "Yeah," he managed.
"Mind if I borrow him? Hit the dance floor?"
"No, definitely," Michael said. He glanced around a little bit. "Have you seen Jan?"
Jim pointed across the room, then grabbed Ted's hand and they made their escape to the other side of the dance floor.
"I am so sorry," Jim said, moving in close, his hands on Ted's waist, his breath warm against his ear. The band was playing Can You Feel the Love Tonight? "What was Michael saying to you?"
"Uh, well, there were a lot of hypotheticals, but I think he's worried he might be gay."
"So what'd you tell him?"
"I said he probably was."
Jim started laughing, and Ted could feel it in his chest. "Nice."
"He told me he has sex dreams about a dude who works in his office. I stand by my assessment."
Jim was smiling really wide. "It's really disturbing how much that does not surprise me." Jim pulled Ted in a little closer, so his cheek was against Ted's temple. Elton John was singing away. "God," Jim said. "Who put this song on the playlist? It wasn't you, was it?"
Ted snorted. "Please."
"Lily'll pay for this," Jim said in mock exasperation, but he was still smiling. They both were.
After a few minutes of swaying in silence, Ted said, "So that was Pam, huh?"
"Yeah," Jim said.
"So... how was that?" Ted said.
Jim's hands flexed on Ted's waist a little bit, his fingers spreading wide. "I dunno," he said after a pause. "Weird. It feels like a long time ago, being in love with her."
"Yeah," Ted said. "I bet." He closed his eyes and leaned against Jim, and they kept dancing until the song ended.
The whole thing was a wild success, The Lion King notwithstanding -- Barney hooked up with some girl from Scranton named Kelly, and Robin seemed to really hit it off with that sad-eyed guy, and Jim and Ted got sent off on their honeymoon in a shower of environmentally conscious birdseed.
**
A year later, Lily and Marshall got back from their first ultrasound appointment glowing and happy, and they made everybody sit down in Ted and Jim's apartment to watch the video, their kid a fuzzy white blob that was hard to make out.
"There he is!" Marshall said. "That's my boy!"
"Or girl!" Lily said. "We don't know which, yet."
Ted got champagne and sparkling cider and they did a toast. After Barney had taken his sip he said, "Wow, you guys, this is so weird. I always thought Ted would be the first one to get pregnant."
"Hi-larious," Ted said and winged a pillow at him.
Robin jumped in to change the subject. "Hey, yeah, when are you guys going to have kids, anyway?"
Jim and Ted looked at each other. "We've been talking about it," Jim said. "It gets complicated."
"Yeah," Ted said. "We were looking into adopting, but the wait lists are insane. So then maybe adopting internationally, but that gets really expensive and complicated. And then on the other hand, we were sort of leaning towards the surrogate thing, because, you know, it'd be great to have our own kids. So maybe with an egg donor, but then the whole thing is kind of weird when it's a stranger doing it. Plus, really expensive. So -- I don't know. We're still deciding."
"What's the big deal?" Barney said, and made an 'it's so obvious' face. "Just have Robin do it."
"What?" Robin said, almost choking on her champagne.
"I mean, it just makes good sense," Barney said. "Jim and Ted have always wanted a baby. You don't want kids, so your ovaries are just going to waste. You get to be all glowing and pregnant and they'll take care of the medical costs. And then you can see the kid all the time and be Aunt Robin without all that tedious parenting. Everybody's a winner."
"Barney!" Robin said.
Ted looked at Robin. "Hey, we're not...."
"I know," Robin said. "I don't -- I mean, I would -- it's just, um."
"No, don't worry about it," Ted said.
And Ted and Jim didn't think any more about it, but then two weeks later Ted's cell phone rang at midnight, as he was falling asleep.
"Wha?" Jim muttered and pulled the pillow over his head.
Ted started fumbling around the bedside table for the phone. "I got it," he said blearily. "Go back to sleep."
He took the phone into the other room to answer it, scratching at his bare chest. "Robin? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," Robin said. "Sorry to call so late. It's just -- I'll do it."
"What?" Ted rubbed at his eyes and sat on the couch.
"I'll do it," Robin said. "I'll be your surrogate."
**
There were details to be worked out, trips to the fertility clinic, jerking off into sterile cups. They combined their donations, so they wouldn't know who the biological father of the child was. The day they found out Robin was pregnant, Ted got the call first and ran the 20 blocks to Jim's office to tell him. He was panting and sweaty when he burst through the door of Jim's office and couldn't catch his breath, but Jim must have known from the look on his face, because he started beaming before Ted said anything.
All three of them went to doctor's appointments together, so they were all there at the first ultrasound, when the doctor saw two babies on the display, looking like little peanuts. "Twins?" Robin said, unsurprisingly unthrilled about it, but Jim squeezed Ted's hand, and Ted couldn't stop grinning. And all three of them were there at the appointment a few months later, when they found out they were having a boy and a girl, just like Ted always wanted. Sometimes he could hardly believe this was really happening. It was almost enough to make you believe in God, just because you wanted so badly to have somebody to thank.
Jim used downtime in his cube to shop for baby supplies, read parenting columns. Every day he emailed Ted links to the best double-stroller, to mobiles and Baby Einstein tapes, to essays on co-sleeping. At home they turned Marshall's old room into a nursery -- they picked out a sunny shade of yellow for the walls and spent a Saturday painting it. Ted did the edging and Jim filled in with a roller, and once they'd done the yellow they stenciled bright-colored balloons all around the top of the walls. When Jim came down off the ladder, he had yellow speckles all over his forehead and in his hair, and Ted wiped them off carefully with turpentine.
They had Robin over almost every night just to watch TV and hang out, feel the babies kick. Jim rubbed her sore feet and talked to her belly, and Ted watched and smiled. One time when Marshall was over he took a picture that went into the kids' baby book, Robin sprawled out on the couch, her stomach huge, and Ted and Jim on either side of her, looking at each other like they're in on a secret. Everyone looks happy and young.
While Jim and Ted were falling asleep at night they talked about names, throwing out suggestions as they drifted off.
"Savannah," Jim said.
"Didn't Lucy name her baby that on 7th Heaven? We're not naming our daughter something out of 7th Heaven," Ted said.
"You watched 7th Heaven?" Jim said. "Um, I want a divorce."
"Shut up," Ted said. "Helen."
"Gross," Jim said. "Madison."
"Yeah, there'll only be eight of those in her first grade class. Jane."
"Boring. Scarlett," Jim said.
"Oh God," Ted said. "Okay, uh, what about for a boy?"
"Braden."
"Nothing made up," Ted said, then smiled into the dark. "Albert."
Jim snorted. "Albert Halpert-Mosby? Cute."
"You know it," Ted said, and moved so his head was against Jim's shoulder. Jim shifted closer.
**
Nine months goes faster than you'd think, and the babies came into the world pink and wrinkled and ugly, only three weeks early, and just over five pounds each. Ted cut one cord and Jim cut the other, and Robin looked exhausted. They were all in the room together, a modern birthing room with comfortable chairs and wallpaper with ducks on it. Ted had Miles in a football hold and looked over to see Jim in a rocking chair with Violet sleeping against his chest, and out of nowhere he thought, God, we're a family. Two brand new human beings to feed and clothe and protect and teach to throw a baseball and help with homework and take to french horn lessons and send off to college, and holy crap, they're not old enough for this.
They both took two weeks off, paternity leave, so they could figure out how to give baths, how to warm up the breast milk in the bottles in the fridge. It had all seemed like it'd be really easy in the parenting classes, but somehow when it was their own actual tiny babies instead of dolls, it was way more terrifying. Ted kept worrying that he was going to drop one of them on their head or something, but nothing bad seemed to happen. He started to get used to sleeping really lightly, waking up to any sound from the baby monitor. Sometimes Jim beat him to it, and he woke up to see Jim padding across the apartment in his pajama pants holding a tiny person cradled against his bare chest and humming lullabies.
Jim quit his job, the hated ad copy one, so he could stay home with the twins. When Ted got home after work, more often than not Jim was in the kitchen making dinner, one twin in a sling against his chest, the other one gurgling at him from a bassinet.
Ted's birthday rolled around, the first one since the babies were born. When he got home that day a baby was crying and a timer was beeping loudly, and when he got into the kitchen Jim was making shushing noises at the kid in his right arm while trying to pull a cake out of the oven with his left. His face was all red.
"Here," Ted said. "Let me give you a hand." He took Violet out of Jim's arm and started bouncing her. "Hey there, baby girl." Her face unscrewed and she looked at Ted soberly.
Jim breathed out in relief and grabbed another oven mitt to get the cake out. "Thanks, man," he said, setting down the cake and turning off the timer.
"No problem," Ted said.
When Jim had straightened all the way up and shut the oven door, he leaned in and kissed Ted. "Happy birthday," Jim said. Ted kissed him again, until Violet started crying and he had to go change her.
When she had gotten a new dry diaper, he sat with her in the rocking chair in the nursery and she gave a little baby sigh, completely relaxed in his arms. Out the window the sun was reflecting off the building across the street, the sky a bright blue beyond it, and in the other room he could hear Jim singing "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" to Miles while he clanged plates around. I'm just so happy, Ted remembers thinking. I'm so happy.
**
"And so, kids," Ted concludes. "That's how I met your mother. And married him. And had you!"
"Yeah, for the last time, stop calling me that!" Jim calls from the kitchen, where he's washing the dishes.
"It's a joke, babe!"
"Yeah, ha, ha," Jim yells back.
Miles rolls his eyes, getting up from the couch. "Good story, Dad," he says, putting his hand on Ted's shoulder as he leaves the den. "Not boring at all."
"I never thought I'd say this," Violet says to her brother as they head through the door. "But I'm really, really excited to go write a paper on imagery in The Scarlet Letter."
"God, seriously," Ted hears Miles say as they get out of earshot. Ted smiles and goes into the kitchen..
"You finish your endless saga?" Jim says as Ted picks up a dishtowel to help dry. "Your endless, emasculating saga?"
"Yup!" Ted says.
Jim splashes him with some soapy water and Ted hits him with the dishtowel, and when Violet comes into the room a few minutes later to get her backpack, they're kissing.
"Oh, gross, you guys," she says, and makes a puking noise. Ted and Jim break apart, laughing.
**
END
Title: The Funny Thing About Destiny
Fandom: The Office/How I Met Your Mother
Pairing: Jim Halpert/Ted Mosby
Rating: PG-13
Length: 6500 words
Summary: Jim and Ted get married and have babies? I'm not kidding.
AN: This fic is for torchthisnow, who instigated it and who now owes me some Lily/Ted. Thanks to kyrafic for the read through.
**
The fourth weekend in a row that Jim came into the city to hang out was the one when things started to change.
"Look at us," Ted said, looking at them. He and Jim and Marshall were sitting in a sad row on the couch, beer bottles scattered all over the floor. Marshall was wearing his boxers and the same t-shirt he'd worn for the past three days in a row, and was beginning to smell, which meant they were going to have to make him shower again. Ted and Jim had taken off their pants in Rejection Solidarity, but it was Friday night, so Jim was still wearing his dress shirt and tie from the meetings he'd been to during the day at corporate, making him a weird mix of dapper and scruffy, his tie crooked and his suit jacket draped carefully over the back of a kitchen chair. His boxers had billiards balls all over them. Ted dropped the cold crust of his pizza back into the box and wiped his hands. "We are pathetic. This is what women do to you."
"Yeah, they do," Jim said grimly into the bottle of his beer, then took a sip.
"To the women who broke our hearts," Ted said, holding up his beer. "Robin Scherbatsky."
"Pam Beesly," Jim said.
"Lily Aldrin," Marshall said, and they clinked the necks of their bottles together. Hey, Marshall had said her name without crying, that was progress. Or else he was just incredibly, incredibly drunk.
Ten minutes later, Marshall had passed out on Jim's shoulder, so it was probably the second one.
"Man," Ted said, as he and Jim hauled Marshall towards his bedroom. "I am really glad you're here to help babysit. Marshall's way too heavy to haul around by myself."
"Tell me about it," Jim said, and adjusted his grip on Marshall's waist.
As they maneuvered Marshall into his bed and pulled the covers up over him, Jim said, "I can't believe Marshall and Lily broke up. I mean, even in college, they were like, the couple, you know?"
"No kidding," Ted said. "If Marshall and Lily can't make it, who can?" He turned off the lamp next to Marshall's bed and they went back out into the living room. Jim flopped down on the couch and started flipping channels while Ted went to get them two more beers. They'd turned off most of the lights earlier while they watched Die Hard, and when Ted came back into the room, Jim's face was shadowy in the light from the TV.
"I just don't understand it," Ted said, handing Jim a beer and sitting down on the other side of the couch. There was something lumpy underneath the cushion, and when he dug underneath he pulled out an empty beer bottle. They are a sad, sad household. "We are handsome, nice guys with steady jobs," Ted said, putting the empty bottle on the coffee table. "And I am a great boyfriend. I never forget anniversaries. I buy flowers. I am a *catch*, dammit."
Jim glanced over and smiled. "I can't believe you got turned down in front of a string quartet of blue instruments." On TV, Jim had stopped at a Star Trek rerun and Captain Picard was walking authoritatively down a space hallway.
"Me neither," Ted said. "Talk about embarrassing." They both watched the show for a few minutes. There were Klingons, or something. Ted doesn't really know much about Star Trek.
"On the other hand," Jim said. "If Marshall and Lily can break off their engagement when they've been together for ten years, Pam could too. Right?"
Captain Picard headed for the medical bay. When Ted looked at Jim, Jim's jaw was set and he was keeping his eyes fixed on the TV. "Right," Ted said. "Maybe."
There was a space battle, and beaming down to a planet.
At the commercial break, Ted said, "I don't know, I just want to get married and settle down. Aren't girls supposed to be into that?"
Jim shook his head. "I don't know, man." They've had this conversation like ten times, over and over it, Pam and Robin, Robin and Pam. All the ways the girls didn't love them back. It's like college all over again, except back then it was Keri and Beth they were obsessing over. Since Jim moved to Stamford, it's weird how easy it's been to fall back into being friends the exact same way they used to be, as though nothing's changed since they were nineteen.
"Robin doesn't even want kids," Ted said. "I don't get it."
"Yeah, Pam wasn't into kids that much either," Jim said, sitting up a little bit. "I mean, it's not like I want twenty or anything, but come on. Who wouldn't want kids? Like, two. A boy and a girl."
"Exactly!" Ted said. "Perfect."
The program came back on and they fell back into silence, drinking their beers in the dark living room. It was summer, and too hot even with the windows open, noise drifting up from the street, a low hum coming from the fan they have pointed at the couch. Ted slumped lower down, feeling sweaty even just in a t-shirt and boxers. Jim's tie fluttered a little bit every time the fan oscillated back to him.
They must have fallen asleep on the couch like that, maudlin and full of alcohol, because Ted woke up with his face smushed up against Jim's chest, drooling onto Jim's shirt, their bare legs kind of tangled together. His head was killing him and his eyes were crusty, and when he pushed himself up, Jim was blinking down at him blearily.
"Wow, look at you guys," Marshall said, wandering into the room eating dry cereal out of a box. "Hey Ted, did you drink yourself gay again?"
"What? No!" Ted said. When he looked at Jim, Jim looked a little weirded out.
"Again?" Jim said.
"He's kidding," Ted said, and got up. As he passed Marshall on the way to the bathroom, he hit him in the stomach. "Shut up, Marshall."
**
It wasn't anything, really. It was just starting to seem like a really long time between weekends, and Ted started waking up on Fridays feeling good, thinking about Jim taking the train down after work. Because it was fun, right? Guys' night. Guys' weekends. Without Lily around, and with Robin avoiding Ted, it was just him and Sad Marshall and Barney, and Jim made it more like a thing, more like a gang. He filled it out, filled up the booth, helped Barney think up pranks for the guy in the building across the street. Official Mischief Superintendent, that was Jim's title.
And so sometimes, when something funny happened at work, or Barney made Ted hit on a girl who turned out to be his cousin ("My bad!" Barney said) or Ted had to shove Marshall in the shower fully clothed just to make sure some soap and water hit his body somewhere, Ted liked to call Jim and fill him in on the gossip. And it was weird how funny things started to happen almost every day, but they did. It wasn't anything.
Jim called him too. He wanted to know how Marshall was doing, wanted to tell Ted about this guy in his office who was even worse than the old crazy guy at his old office, tell him about the bike he just bought, and maybe the phone calls were starting to be a habit. It was just nice when Jim called.
One Wednesday, Ted was getting a beer with Barney when Jim called, and the whole time that Ted talked to him, Barney watched with this weird look. When Ted hung up, he made a face at Barney and said, "What?"
"So, uh, who was that?" Barney asked. He had that look that he got when someone made a ridiculous and somewhat disturbing suggestion, like that maybe he shouldn't have a threesome.
"Huh? Oh, just Jim. He wants to have a Charlie Kaufmann marathon this weekend."
"Jim, huh?" Barney said. He took a sip of beer, still with that dubious look.
"What?" Ted said.
"No, that's cool," Barney said. "I'm totally fine with alternative lifestyles. Good for you."
Ted rolled his eyes. "That's real funny, Barney."
"No, I'm serious," Barney said. "Your face, like, lights up when he calls. It's adorable."
"What?" Ted said. "My face does not."
"It does," Barney said. "Hey, when you gay marry him, can I be your best man?"
"No, Marshall's my best ma--oh, shut up, Barney."
**
That Friday, Jim got to the apartment with a bag of DVDs, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Adaptation and Being John Malkovich. Ted was getting him a beer out of the fridge and Jim was undoing his tie to change out of his work clothes when Marshall and Barney came walking out of Marshall's room, both dressed in suits.
Ted leaned out of the kitchen. "Where are you guys going?"
"I'm taking Marshall out," Barney said. "And unlike some people, he had the decency to suit up." Marshall smiled weakly at Ted.
"I thought we were having movie night tonight," Ted said. He glanced at Jim, who shrugged and put his tie down on the counter, then started unbuttoning his dress shirt.
"Oh, yeah, well, I thought maybe you guys wouldn't mind doing that on your own," Barney said. Then he winked at Ted and in a stage whisper said, "Don't worry, I'll keep the kids out of your hair."
"Hilarious," Ted said, as Barney opened the door and he and Marshall disappeared into the hallway.
Jim didn't look at Ted as he started to switch into the navy blue t-shirt he pulled out of his bag. "What was that about?" Jim asked as he uncrumpled it.
"What? Oh, nothing," Ted said. Jim started to pull the shirt over his head. When Jim didn't say anything else, Ted caved and said, "It's so dumb. Barney thinks I have a crush on you."
There was a little hitch in Jim's movements, but his face was hidden in the middle of the shirt, and by the time Jim's head reappeared his expression was neutral. "Oh," Jim said. His t-shirt said, "A city built on rock and roll would be structurally unsound."
"Yeah, so," Ted said. "It's just Barney. Whatever."
"I mean, do you?" Jim asked.
"Do I what?"
"Have a crush on me."
"No," Ted said.
But it must have been moderately obvious that Ted was lying, because they weren't even drunk later when it happened. Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet were on the train to Montauk and Jim said, "Hey," and when Ted looked over, Jim kissed him, like he'd been thinking about it for awhile. Ted should have been surprised, but he was mostly just happy, deep in his chest.
**
They had sex for the first time the next weekend, when Ted went to Stamford to finally return the visits. Afterwards, Ted lay on his back on Jim's striped sheets watching the ceiling fan turn sluggishly in the moonlight coming through the blinds. The slats made the light lie across the bed in long thin lines. It was too hot to combine any body heat, so he and Jim were keeping a few inches apart, letting their sweat dry.
"So," Jim said. "This is different."
Ted turned his head to the side. Jim was staring up at the ceiling too. "Bad different?" Ted said.
"Nah," Jim said, and smiled. "Surprising."
"Yeah," Ted said.
The only furniture in Jim's apartment was his bed, one ratty armchair, and the television, which was on top of a stack of unpacked boxes. "I don't know," Jim said when Ted teased him. "I'm not here that much." The place looked weird and sterile, nothing on the white walls, broad expanses of empty floor.
They ordered Chinese food and ate it sprawled out on the floor in their boxers watching a Saved by the Bell marathon. Jim kept bumping Ted's leg with his foot, back and forth, like they were in 9th grade and Ted was a girl he liked sitting next to him in an assembly. Ted smiled.
"What?" Jim said.
"Nothing," Ted said. "You know. That Zach Morris. What will he get up to next?"
Jim didn't really know anyone in Stamford yet except his coworkers, which made it a weird weekend, like they'd gone away together to a bed and breakfast in Vermont or something, only a B&B with no furniture and no old people to make conversation with over breakfast. They did domestic stuff, cooked dinner together, went to the grocery store. They ran into one of Jim's coworkers there, a pretty girl. "Oh, hey, Karen," Jim said. "This is my," Ted felt like the pause went on forever, but it was probably just a second. "Friend. Ted." Ted shook Karen's hand and she didn't seem to notice anything in particular. Jim and Ted didn't talk about it, after, about what they were calling themselves.
They went down to the marina and watched the boats, waded barefoot in the water a little bit. Saturday afternoon, they went to the movies, and Ted couldn't decide whether or not to hold Jim's hand, so in the end he didn't. It was weird, being with a guy, knowing what he was supposed to do. Which, also -- they had a lot of sex, trying to figure out how that went.
"You're the one with the experience," Jim said. "Who drinks himself gay or whatever."
"Oh, yeah, I'm definitely an expert," Ted said. "I made out with a guy one time when I was 23. So I totally know what to do with lube."
"Give me that," Jim said, and grabbed it from him. Ted tried to grab it back, but Jim hit him with a pillow, and then they were both laughing and Jim ended up holding Ted's hips down and blowing him, kind of sloppy and awkward and not careful enough with his teeth. It still somehow managed to be the best blowjob Ted had ever gotten. He threaded his fingers through Jim's hair, and thought about how different life ends up than you expected.
**
How he was going to tell everybody kept worrying at Ted, keeping him up at night, but in the end he didn't even have to. The next weekend, when Jim had come into the city, Barney came over and was trying to get them all to come pick up women with him.
"Marshall, you need to get out more. Didn't we have fun last time?" Barney was standing next to the couch in his suit.
Marshall, sitting morosely in his boxers, looked up. "Not really."
"That is because when I told you to get awesome you got pathetic instead," Barney said. "That was not my fault. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him stop being a sad sack."
"Very true," Jim said from the armchair. He made eye contact with Ted and held it, both of them trying to keep from laughing.
"Come on, we are young and we are alive and we should be celebrating," Barney said. He put one hand on Jim's shoulder and the other on Ted's, his voice rising earnestly. "We are all single at the same time for the first time ever, and--" He stopped abruptly and stared at Jim, then Ted. "Oh man, you guys did it, didn't you?"
**
It was a good summer, a really good summer.
**
Their three-monthaversary was an Indian summer day at the beginning of October, bright blue skies and that crisp clear feeling of early fall, and Jim got into the city an hour before sunset. They went up to drink beer on the roof, catch the last bit of sunshine before the day ended.
They sat on a raised part of the roof, sides touching comfortably, drinking beer and watching the sun start to set behind the other buildings, the light long and stretched out over the city, talking about their days, about fall, about New York. It started getting dusky, the sunset sworling red and orange on the horizon, and chimneys of the buildings around stood up against the horizon like they were in Mary Poppins.
"Chim-chiminee, chim-chiminee, chim-chim-cheroo," Jim said idly, at a pause in the conversation.
Ted laughed. "Yeah."
"So hey," Jim said, in a sort of forced casual way, like the topic had just occurred to him. He kept looking straight ahead. "You remember how I told you about those rumors that a branch of my company might get downsized?"
"Uh huh," Ted said.
"It pretty much looks like they're going to do it," Jim said. "And, well, you remember how I hate my job?"
"Sure," Ted said. "I've met you. Are you... they aren't going to fire you, are they?"
"What? Oh, no," Jim said. "They kind of offered me a promotion. Whatever. But I was thinking -- I mean, okay. I was thinking I might quit."
"Oh yeah?" Ted said. He wasn't quite sure where Jim was going with this. "I mean, yeah. If that's what you want to do. That job is pretty craptacular."
"Yeah, I--" Jim stopped and ran his hand through his hair. "Okay, I'm not explaining this very well. What I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that I was thinking I might quit my job and move to New York. If you want."
"Oh," Ted said. When he looked over, Jim's profile was outlined against the navy blue of the sky. He could see the white tail of a jet on the horizon. "That would be...." Ted couldn't think of the word. Fantastic. Astonishing. Tremendous. Legendary. "Great," Ted finished, inadequately. "More than great. That -- really? You want to move here?"
Jim shrugged self-consciously, rubbed the back of his neck like he was fifteen. "Yeah," he said. "I really do."
**
They didn't mean to move in together right away. Jim was just going to stay with Ted and Marshall until he found a job and an apartment and moved out into his own place. And it didn't take long for him to find a job working at a non-profit, hoping that helping put an end to human rights violations would give his job a little more meaning. And he kept looking for apartments, but most of them were too expensive or too small or too far away. Ted went with him to look, every Saturday for weeks. After two months of this, Ted began to suspect that maybe neither of them really wanted him to find a place. Sure, apartment hunting in New York is balls, but it's not completely impossible.
"Heat's included?" Jim asked, poking around the tiny kitchen of a fourth-floor walkup in Queens.
"Yeah," the broker said, and went off into a spiel about how close the subway was, and how laundry was in the basement.
"I'll think about it," Jim said as they were leaving, but Ted could tell he wasn't thrilled.
On the train back to Manhattan, Ted bumped Jim with his knee. "Hey," he said. "Don't take that apartment."
Jim shrugged. "It wasn't that bad."
"No," Ted said. "I mean -- why don't you just stay with Marshall and me?"
Jim smiled slowly. "Yeah?" he asked. "You don't think that's too fast?"
"Nah," Ted said.
That night in the bar, Jim sat with his arm along the back of the booth, around Ted's shoulders, and Barney told them that they were his favorite lesbian couple. Jim and Ted just laughed.
**
Ted was the kind of guy who did nothing but think about the longterm, about commitment, but for some reason with Jim he didn't so much. With Jim he didn't have that hyperactive panic, that feeling like he needed to settle down, that fear in the back of his mind that he might end up dying alone.
So he hardly even noticed that time was going by, that they were turning into a longterm thing. Lily came back from San Francisco, and after a couple of months she and Marshall got back together. Then it was summer again, and Jim and Ted's first anniversary, and Robin and Barney hooked up, then broke up, then hooked up again. Jim figured out that he hated his miserable non-profit job, so he quit and got a job writing ad copy. He hated that too. Ted designed another skyscraper.
The next summer, Lily and Marshall got married, and Ted was the best man. He and Jim danced slow dances at the reception and went home to the apartment that was now just theirs. Lily and Marshall had gotten a new place, three blocks away.
That night in bed, Jim said, "It was a nice wedding."
"Yeah," Ted said. "I really thought they should've put disposable cameras on the tables at the reception, though. You know, so people could take candids while they're sitting there? I'm totally going to do that at my wedding."
"Definitely," Jim said. He had his eyes closed and was talking slow, like he was half asleep. "And I'd rather have an outdoor wedding than one inside. Not that the church wasn't nice, but you know."
"Totally," Ted said. "I've always thought, yeah, a June wedding. On the beach or something. Or in a really beautiful park. With flowers everywhere." He had his hand on Jim's chest, and moved his thumb against Jim's skin thoughtfully. Jim breathed a deep, contented breath, the movement of it lifting Ted's hand.
"Yeah," Jim said, his voice thick. His eyelashes were lying against his cheeks, and when Ted looked at him he was looking almost straight up Jim's goofy big nose. Jim continued sleepily, his words barely intelligible, "When we get married, we should definitely do that."
"Yeah," Ted said. Their wedding should definitely -- wait, what? "Wait, what?" Ted said, but there was no answer. Jim was asleep.
**
They did get married outside, under an arch with flowers growing all over it. Marshall and Lily and Barney stood up with Ted, and Jim had his brother and sister and friend Mark on his side. Their parents had even come to grips with the whole gay thing and were all there in the front row. The girls wore coral bridesmaid dresses, and the guys had hydrangea boutonnieres.
A surprising amount of people from Scranton came up for the wedding, considering it had been three years since Jim lived there. And considering some of them weren't invited. Apparently Jim's old boss had seen the engagement announcement in the New York Times (his girlfriend lived in the city? Or something?), and insisted that a crew of them drive up to attend. Jim rolled his eyes and muttered something to Ted about it throwing off the dinner numbers, but then invited them all to the reception anyway.
Ted met Pam, who actually was invited, in the reception line, when Jim gave her a big hug and introduced her. She looked incredibly normal, brown curly hair, nondescript eyes -- pretty, but nothing spectacular. Ted didn't know what he was expecting, exactly, that that was surprising. In the introductions and glad-you-cames and congratulations, she looked at Ted like she was trying to figure something out.
During a slow song halfway through the reception, Ted saw Jim ask Pam to dance. He... didn't know how he felt about that. He got a drink at the bar and watched them sway together.
In the middle of the song, Jim's old boss, Michael, came up and cornered him to offer his congratulations. "Good for you!" Michael said. "You know, I've never been to a gay wedding before."
"Oh yeah?" Ted said. "How's it been so far?"
"Oh, good. Fine. A lot like a straight wedding, actually, which is weird. I thought it'd be a little more flamboyant," Michael said. He lowered his voice. "So, uh, how long have you been...?"
Ted waited for a beat to see if Michael was going to finish that thought, but he didn't. "Gay?" Ted finally asked.
"Yeah," Michael said. With the tone of his voice, you would have thought he was talking about someone's cancer diagnosis.
"Oh, uh, actually, Jim's my first boyfriend," Ted said.
"Really," Michael said. "I... really? Wow. I would not have guessed that. So... you dated girls, before that?"
"Yup," Ted said.
"Yeah, we all thought Jim was straight too," Michael said. His forehead was all furrowed, worried. "So, okay, just out of curiosity, for no particular reason, I have a question for you. Since you, uh, seem to have some experience in this area."
"Um, sure," Ted said. He was looking over Michael's shoulder to see if anyone could come rescue him, but they were all dancing. Robin was slow-dancing with this sad-eyed reddish-haired guy from Scranton, one of the other ones who was actually invited.
"Okay," Michael said. "So, hypothetically, say there was this person. And this person had always been straight. I mean, really, really straight. Like, no breasts, what's the point, know what I mean?"
"Sure," Ted said. He waved at the bartender for another round.
"And say that hypothetically, this hypothetical person met another hypothetical person of the same gender, for instance, in a hypothetical office where they both work. And this second hypothetical person is really attractive -- I mean, objectively attractive, and so the first hypothetical person, you know, notices this. Not in a gay way, just in an aethe..thetic way."
"Okay," Ted said slowly.
"So that's fine, but then hypothetically this person maybe keeps thinking about this other person. Maybe he has dreams about him sometimes."
"Like... sex dreams?" Ted said. There was not enough whiskey in the world.
"No," Michael said quickly. "Well, maybe once. But it's not like this hypothetical person doesn't like women! He has a girlfriend that he really likes a lot, and she is really, really, amazingly super hot. And they have a lot of sex. Heterosexual, straight, man-on-woman intercourse. With vaginas."
"Multiple vaginas?" Ted said.
"What? No, just one," Michael said. "So my question is -- this hypothetical person is straight, right? I mean, the thoughts -- that's normal, right?"
"I don't know," Ted said, taking a sip of his drink. "It sounds to me like this hypothetical person might be a little gay."
"No," Michael said, screwing his face up and shaking his head forcefully. "He's not."
"Well, I don't know," Ted said as the song ended. Over Michael's shoulder he could see Jim bearing down on them. "I mean, from what you said, it sounds like he's kind of into this guy."
Jim finally got up to them and threw his arm around Ted's shoulders. "Hey Michael!" he said brightly. "So you've met Ted?"
Michael looked upset. "Yeah," he managed.
"Mind if I borrow him? Hit the dance floor?"
"No, definitely," Michael said. He glanced around a little bit. "Have you seen Jan?"
Jim pointed across the room, then grabbed Ted's hand and they made their escape to the other side of the dance floor.
"I am so sorry," Jim said, moving in close, his hands on Ted's waist, his breath warm against his ear. The band was playing Can You Feel the Love Tonight? "What was Michael saying to you?"
"Uh, well, there were a lot of hypotheticals, but I think he's worried he might be gay."
"So what'd you tell him?"
"I said he probably was."
Jim started laughing, and Ted could feel it in his chest. "Nice."
"He told me he has sex dreams about a dude who works in his office. I stand by my assessment."
Jim was smiling really wide. "It's really disturbing how much that does not surprise me." Jim pulled Ted in a little closer, so his cheek was against Ted's temple. Elton John was singing away. "God," Jim said. "Who put this song on the playlist? It wasn't you, was it?"
Ted snorted. "Please."
"Lily'll pay for this," Jim said in mock exasperation, but he was still smiling. They both were.
After a few minutes of swaying in silence, Ted said, "So that was Pam, huh?"
"Yeah," Jim said.
"So... how was that?" Ted said.
Jim's hands flexed on Ted's waist a little bit, his fingers spreading wide. "I dunno," he said after a pause. "Weird. It feels like a long time ago, being in love with her."
"Yeah," Ted said. "I bet." He closed his eyes and leaned against Jim, and they kept dancing until the song ended.
The whole thing was a wild success, The Lion King notwithstanding -- Barney hooked up with some girl from Scranton named Kelly, and Robin seemed to really hit it off with that sad-eyed guy, and Jim and Ted got sent off on their honeymoon in a shower of environmentally conscious birdseed.
**
A year later, Lily and Marshall got back from their first ultrasound appointment glowing and happy, and they made everybody sit down in Ted and Jim's apartment to watch the video, their kid a fuzzy white blob that was hard to make out.
"There he is!" Marshall said. "That's my boy!"
"Or girl!" Lily said. "We don't know which, yet."
Ted got champagne and sparkling cider and they did a toast. After Barney had taken his sip he said, "Wow, you guys, this is so weird. I always thought Ted would be the first one to get pregnant."
"Hi-larious," Ted said and winged a pillow at him.
Robin jumped in to change the subject. "Hey, yeah, when are you guys going to have kids, anyway?"
Jim and Ted looked at each other. "We've been talking about it," Jim said. "It gets complicated."
"Yeah," Ted said. "We were looking into adopting, but the wait lists are insane. So then maybe adopting internationally, but that gets really expensive and complicated. And then on the other hand, we were sort of leaning towards the surrogate thing, because, you know, it'd be great to have our own kids. So maybe with an egg donor, but then the whole thing is kind of weird when it's a stranger doing it. Plus, really expensive. So -- I don't know. We're still deciding."
"What's the big deal?" Barney said, and made an 'it's so obvious' face. "Just have Robin do it."
"What?" Robin said, almost choking on her champagne.
"I mean, it just makes good sense," Barney said. "Jim and Ted have always wanted a baby. You don't want kids, so your ovaries are just going to waste. You get to be all glowing and pregnant and they'll take care of the medical costs. And then you can see the kid all the time and be Aunt Robin without all that tedious parenting. Everybody's a winner."
"Barney!" Robin said.
Ted looked at Robin. "Hey, we're not...."
"I know," Robin said. "I don't -- I mean, I would -- it's just, um."
"No, don't worry about it," Ted said.
And Ted and Jim didn't think any more about it, but then two weeks later Ted's cell phone rang at midnight, as he was falling asleep.
"Wha?" Jim muttered and pulled the pillow over his head.
Ted started fumbling around the bedside table for the phone. "I got it," he said blearily. "Go back to sleep."
He took the phone into the other room to answer it, scratching at his bare chest. "Robin? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," Robin said. "Sorry to call so late. It's just -- I'll do it."
"What?" Ted rubbed at his eyes and sat on the couch.
"I'll do it," Robin said. "I'll be your surrogate."
**
There were details to be worked out, trips to the fertility clinic, jerking off into sterile cups. They combined their donations, so they wouldn't know who the biological father of the child was. The day they found out Robin was pregnant, Ted got the call first and ran the 20 blocks to Jim's office to tell him. He was panting and sweaty when he burst through the door of Jim's office and couldn't catch his breath, but Jim must have known from the look on his face, because he started beaming before Ted said anything.
All three of them went to doctor's appointments together, so they were all there at the first ultrasound, when the doctor saw two babies on the display, looking like little peanuts. "Twins?" Robin said, unsurprisingly unthrilled about it, but Jim squeezed Ted's hand, and Ted couldn't stop grinning. And all three of them were there at the appointment a few months later, when they found out they were having a boy and a girl, just like Ted always wanted. Sometimes he could hardly believe this was really happening. It was almost enough to make you believe in God, just because you wanted so badly to have somebody to thank.
Jim used downtime in his cube to shop for baby supplies, read parenting columns. Every day he emailed Ted links to the best double-stroller, to mobiles and Baby Einstein tapes, to essays on co-sleeping. At home they turned Marshall's old room into a nursery -- they picked out a sunny shade of yellow for the walls and spent a Saturday painting it. Ted did the edging and Jim filled in with a roller, and once they'd done the yellow they stenciled bright-colored balloons all around the top of the walls. When Jim came down off the ladder, he had yellow speckles all over his forehead and in his hair, and Ted wiped them off carefully with turpentine.
They had Robin over almost every night just to watch TV and hang out, feel the babies kick. Jim rubbed her sore feet and talked to her belly, and Ted watched and smiled. One time when Marshall was over he took a picture that went into the kids' baby book, Robin sprawled out on the couch, her stomach huge, and Ted and Jim on either side of her, looking at each other like they're in on a secret. Everyone looks happy and young.
While Jim and Ted were falling asleep at night they talked about names, throwing out suggestions as they drifted off.
"Savannah," Jim said.
"Didn't Lucy name her baby that on 7th Heaven? We're not naming our daughter something out of 7th Heaven," Ted said.
"You watched 7th Heaven?" Jim said. "Um, I want a divorce."
"Shut up," Ted said. "Helen."
"Gross," Jim said. "Madison."
"Yeah, there'll only be eight of those in her first grade class. Jane."
"Boring. Scarlett," Jim said.
"Oh God," Ted said. "Okay, uh, what about for a boy?"
"Braden."
"Nothing made up," Ted said, then smiled into the dark. "Albert."
Jim snorted. "Albert Halpert-Mosby? Cute."
"You know it," Ted said, and moved so his head was against Jim's shoulder. Jim shifted closer.
**
Nine months goes faster than you'd think, and the babies came into the world pink and wrinkled and ugly, only three weeks early, and just over five pounds each. Ted cut one cord and Jim cut the other, and Robin looked exhausted. They were all in the room together, a modern birthing room with comfortable chairs and wallpaper with ducks on it. Ted had Miles in a football hold and looked over to see Jim in a rocking chair with Violet sleeping against his chest, and out of nowhere he thought, God, we're a family. Two brand new human beings to feed and clothe and protect and teach to throw a baseball and help with homework and take to french horn lessons and send off to college, and holy crap, they're not old enough for this.
They both took two weeks off, paternity leave, so they could figure out how to give baths, how to warm up the breast milk in the bottles in the fridge. It had all seemed like it'd be really easy in the parenting classes, but somehow when it was their own actual tiny babies instead of dolls, it was way more terrifying. Ted kept worrying that he was going to drop one of them on their head or something, but nothing bad seemed to happen. He started to get used to sleeping really lightly, waking up to any sound from the baby monitor. Sometimes Jim beat him to it, and he woke up to see Jim padding across the apartment in his pajama pants holding a tiny person cradled against his bare chest and humming lullabies.
Jim quit his job, the hated ad copy one, so he could stay home with the twins. When Ted got home after work, more often than not Jim was in the kitchen making dinner, one twin in a sling against his chest, the other one gurgling at him from a bassinet.
Ted's birthday rolled around, the first one since the babies were born. When he got home that day a baby was crying and a timer was beeping loudly, and when he got into the kitchen Jim was making shushing noises at the kid in his right arm while trying to pull a cake out of the oven with his left. His face was all red.
"Here," Ted said. "Let me give you a hand." He took Violet out of Jim's arm and started bouncing her. "Hey there, baby girl." Her face unscrewed and she looked at Ted soberly.
Jim breathed out in relief and grabbed another oven mitt to get the cake out. "Thanks, man," he said, setting down the cake and turning off the timer.
"No problem," Ted said.
When Jim had straightened all the way up and shut the oven door, he leaned in and kissed Ted. "Happy birthday," Jim said. Ted kissed him again, until Violet started crying and he had to go change her.
When she had gotten a new dry diaper, he sat with her in the rocking chair in the nursery and she gave a little baby sigh, completely relaxed in his arms. Out the window the sun was reflecting off the building across the street, the sky a bright blue beyond it, and in the other room he could hear Jim singing "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" to Miles while he clanged plates around. I'm just so happy, Ted remembers thinking. I'm so happy.
**
"And so, kids," Ted concludes. "That's how I met your mother. And married him. And had you!"
"Yeah, for the last time, stop calling me that!" Jim calls from the kitchen, where he's washing the dishes.
"It's a joke, babe!"
"Yeah, ha, ha," Jim yells back.
Miles rolls his eyes, getting up from the couch. "Good story, Dad," he says, putting his hand on Ted's shoulder as he leaves the den. "Not boring at all."
"I never thought I'd say this," Violet says to her brother as they head through the door. "But I'm really, really excited to go write a paper on imagery in The Scarlet Letter."
"God, seriously," Ted hears Miles say as they get out of earshot. Ted smiles and goes into the kitchen..
"You finish your endless saga?" Jim says as Ted picks up a dishtowel to help dry. "Your endless, emasculating saga?"
"Yup!" Ted says.
Jim splashes him with some soapy water and Ted hits him with the dishtowel, and when Violet comes into the room a few minutes later to get her backpack, they're kissing.
"Oh, gross, you guys," she says, and makes a puking noise. Ted and Jim break apart, laughing.
**
END