word count: 379 | warnings: may induce tears??, the mayor is feeling sad.
pairing: solo!ted and some ted garcia x f!reader
notes: thank you @jadesmultifandom for being my beta reader. gifs made by me.
The bar had emptied out long after midnight, the last glass washed and set aside. Ted wiped down the counter one final time, the old rag damp in his hand. The place smelled faintly of whiskey and wood polish, a comfort in its own way. He sighed, stretching his back, the weight of the day settling heavy across his broad shoulders.
Locking up, he stepped out into the night. Rain had begun to trickle, soft at first, then steadier, slicking the pavement in silver. His boots carried him to his car, the streets quiet enough that he could almost imagine the world was his alone as he began the drive home.
Inside, the house was dark and still. Eric already locked up in and more than likely asleep in his room. Loosening the buttons of his shirt, Ted made way to his bathroom. After a brisk shower, he set the kettle on. A hot mug of tea soon warmed his palms, steam curling up against his face. He leaned back in his chair, listening to the patter of rain against the window, letting it soothe the restless edges of his thoughts.
By the time he slipped into bed, the storm was in full swing, water racing down the gutters, wind rattling the glass. He lay on his side, staring at the wall before him, the faint glow of the moon casting shifting shadows across his bedroom.
Laying in the darkness he began to think of his ex-wife. It had been years since she left. He had grown used to the silence she left behind, but sometimes — like now, with the rain pressing close — it ached. He let himself imagine what it might be like to find love again, someone to share these quiet hours with. Someone who’d laugh at his tired jokes, who’d brush her hand against his when she passed him a cup of tea. Someone who might fall asleep beside him, the warmth of her breath soft against his neck.
Ted closed his eyes, chasing the fragile dream, letting it take shape. For a moment, the ache lifted, replaced by something tender and hopeful. The rain carried him toward sleep, steady and forgiving, as though the world were whispering that maybe, just maybe — he still had time.
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