His hands are gentle and thoughtful and attentive, just like Ted himself. It's soothing and relaxing, and Joan closes her eyes and breathes deeply, letting her muscles just let go.
He massages her neck for a bit longer, before he finally sits back. "Alright, I think that's all I've got in me," he says, shaking and stretching his arms and hands.
Ted laughs. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, sweetie," he answers genuinely.
He leans around and calls to the living room. "Hey, Sherlock?" He starts laying down next to Joan, resting an arm on her back comfortably, snuggling up a little bit.
"I think there is a distinct possibility it might happen regardless of our wishes," he answers, glancing over at Sherlock with a smile. He doesn't trust either of them to stay awake like this.
"Appreciate it," Ted agrees. And he very much does. He makes a mental note to thank Sherlock properly later.
He smiles at Joan and strokes her back a little bit with his thumb, but he resists being any more affectionate than that. She looks extremely comfortable and content right now, and that makes him happy.
Ted smiles warmly, and mouths "Love you," back. Even if he very recently napped, he too is getting very sleepy. On the plus side, if he gets a decent nap in now, he'll be able to more easily stay awake when Sherlock wants to sleep.
Eventually he assumes they'll feel safe enough in not constantly monitoring Joan's sleep, but he'll let them decide that, since he has no idea when it would be safe.
Joan is looking forward to not being watched constantly, just like she's looking forward to being able to do things on her own. Sherlock is looking forward to it as well, but more because it means he doesn't have to worry about her quite so much.
It's only a few more moments before Joan's blinks slow down enough that her eyes finally close and then don't open as she drifts off to sleep.
Ted drifts off soon after Joan, his hand resting on her back. It's not the most restful sleep ever - he has an anxious dream that involves running around trying to avoid people (including himself, but especially Joan) getting hurt, and mostly failing, or nearly failing.
It's not a full nightmare, and it doesn't wake him, but it leaves him feeling tense when he finally wakes up again. But at least he slept some.
"Mmm." She rubs her eyes. "I need to put on some actual clothes."
"Which of your outfits would you like?" Sherlock says, rising to go fetch clothes from 221B. "May I suggest the black and white shift with the beige cardigan?"
"That works. Thanks."
Sherlock heads out and Joan turns to Ted.
"I can't count the number of times he's woken me up with an outfit in hand to speed things along." She smiles. "How are you doing?"
He shakes his head a little. "I'm sure you can imagine," he says and smiles softly. Honestly it would be weird if he didn't occasionally have bad dreams with everything that's going on. But it's not something he wants to dwell on.
"It helps waking up next to you though," he adds, his smile coming a bit easier as he leans over to give her a kiss.
She kisses him back, touching his cheek. When he pulls back she reaches up to gently brush his hair back from his forehead. Then her eyes widen a bit and she touches her own hair, still in Ted's braids.
"Did the braids get messed up while I was sleeping?"
Ted smiles at the question. "Only a bit," he answers. They've had a few sleeps since he made them, after all. "I can redo them after you get dressed," he offers. "Or undo them - you probably have really nice wavy hair right now."
"You should redo them," she says with a smile. "I'd love for Keeley and Roy to see your handiwork."
The front door to the apartment opens and closes, and Sherlock comes into the room carrying clothes. He sets them on the bad, then backs up. "I will leave you to it," he says with an open-palmed gesture toward the clothes, and turns around to exit the room again.
"Thanks, Sherlock," Ted answers, pushing himself up and stretching properly. He carefully gets to his feet, rubbing experimentally at his lower back, then nods to himself. Getting some good sleep (with supportive pillows) seems to be helping out his back at least.
He's about to head to the other side of the bed, then pauses and grabs at least one crutch, even if he's just going over there. He's trying to be good about it.
Ted smiles too, seeing how she's having a lot less trouble. "You look like you're feeling alright," he says, going to help her off with the tights. He imagines those will be harder for her to take off on her own.
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She smiles at that kiss, feeling so loved.
"Thank you," she murmurs.
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He massages her neck for a bit longer, before he finally sits back. "Alright, I think that's all I've got in me," he says, shaking and stretching his arms and hands.
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Then thinks about it some more.
Then thinks about it again.
"Do I have to move?" she asks, so extremely comfortable her muscles are like very happy jelly.
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He leans around and calls to the living room. "Hey, Sherlock?" He starts laying down next to Joan, resting an arm on her back comfortably, snuggling up a little bit.
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She turns her head so she and Ted can be face to face as he snuggles in, and smiles at him with warmth and fondness.
Sherlock enters the room to see them lying together, and somehow manages to bite back a comment about exhibitionism. "I take it you wish to sleep?"
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"Thank you, Sherlock," Joan says without moving her head.
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He smiles at Joan and strokes her back a little bit with his thumb, but he resists being any more affectionate than that. She looks extremely comfortable and content right now, and that makes him happy.
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"Love you," she mouths silently, mindful of Sherlock.
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Eventually he assumes they'll feel safe enough in not constantly monitoring Joan's sleep, but he'll let them decide that, since he has no idea when it would be safe.
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It's only a few more moments before Joan's blinks slow down enough that her eyes finally close and then don't open as she drifts off to sleep.
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It's not a full nightmare, and it doesn't wake him, but it leaves him feeling tense when he finally wakes up again. But at least he slept some.
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"Hey." She frowns faintly. "What time were Keeley and Roy coming over?"
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"Mmm. Soonish. I told them I was gonna let them know when we were ready for them," he answers.
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"Which of your outfits would you like?" Sherlock says, rising to go fetch clothes from 221B. "May I suggest the black and white shift with the beige cardigan?"
"That works. Thanks."
Sherlock heads out and Joan turns to Ted.
"I can't count the number of times he's woken me up with an outfit in hand to speed things along." She smiles. "How are you doing?"
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"Mmmm," he answers, frowning softly. "Bad dreams," he admits, rubbing at his chest a little. Still feels like there's a knot in there.
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She sees him rubbing his chest, and wonders if he's feeling a tightness there, and if that's a precursor to his panic attacks.
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"It helps waking up next to you though," he adds, his smile coming a bit easier as he leans over to give her a kiss.
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"Did the braids get messed up while I was sleeping?"
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The front door to the apartment opens and closes, and Sherlock comes into the room carrying clothes. He sets them on the bad, then backs up. "I will leave you to it," he says with an open-palmed gesture toward the clothes, and turns around to exit the room again.
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He's about to head to the other side of the bed, then pauses and grabs at least one crutch, even if he's just going over there. He's trying to be good about it.
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She sees Ted remember the crutch and her smile widens. Everything is going to be fine. They're both going to be fine.
Joan starts taking off her shirt. It's a bit of a struggle, but she does finally manage to pull it off.
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