Work Text:
1) Tea
“Hey, babe, you had a good day?”
It’s Jimmy, Tim knows that for certain, but surely it’s not so late yet that he’s back from his part-time bar job, plus Tim didn’t hear the door, no rattling of keys, shoes being kicked off, was he finally losing his edge?
He blinks, his eyes feeling irritated, the overhead light too bright, why did he not turn the little light by the stove on instead? He’s looking at it right now as to will it to turn on by itself.
“Tim?” Jimmy is closer now but Tim still hasn’t seen him. He can only see the stove and part of the window, the darkness outside, the chipped of paint on the window frame.
He forces himself to take a deep breath, feeling returning to his body, tries to wiggle his toes and fingers, a tingling feeling creeping up his arms into his neck.
“Huh?” Tim manages, slowly turning around to check the clock that’s hanging above the table in the corner, and more importantly to find Jimmy. It was past 1AM, where did the time go? It had been around midnight when he came downstairs to make some tea, the cup he was still clutching in his hands, since gone cold. Disassociating much? His brain helpfully supplies.
And then there’s Jimmy, piling text books neatly on the table with his notebook and pencil case, looking tired but smiling at Tim, a soft honest little thing, it almost hurts.
Tim just saw him this morning, sleeping peacefully, tangled in the sheets, the light of the sunrise bathing Jimmy (and Raylan for that matter) in a warm orange glow. They tend to miss each other, when Tim gets out early and Jimmy comes home late.
“Tim?”
“Yeah, fine” Words feeling foreign in his mouth like he’s re-learning to speak, making an effort unclenching his jaw, trying to feel like himself again, feels his fingers still straining against the cold tea cup and finally manages to put it down with a thud, echoing too loudly from the walls.
Jimmy gently moves around Tim with practiced ease, never taking his eyes of Tim for long, putting the kettle back on, flicking on the little light as he goes and turning the overhead lights off.
Tim lets out a breath he wasn’t sure he was holding, some tension leaving his body, cause this feels familiar, going through the motions, he’s usually good at that.
The bee cup is out, Jimmy’s favorite, not cause of the bees but cause it’s bigger than the other cups, drops one of Tim’s weird night-time-sleepy-tea teabags in it before pouring boiling water in it.
Not being able to say how this makes him feel, how there’s something warm behind his ribs, Tim instead says, “There’s-“ throat dry and raspy, “There’s take-out left if you want any”, waving a hand towards the fridge. We saved you some.
“Oh, thanks! I’ll…” Jimmy’s trailing off as he sticks his head in the fridge and triumphantly fishes a spring roll out of one of the take out boxes to munch on it while the tea steeps.
“Come sit on the couch with me a while?" Jimmy's trying, no pressure, just coaxing Tim out of his stupor, "I'm too wound up to go straight to bed”, offering one hand to Tim while he’s holding the steaming cup in the other.
Tilting his head, Tim realizes that Jimmy hasn't touched him at all yet since he got in, and Jimmy usually thrived on touch especially within their own four walls. Which makes Tim's brain go into overdrive trying to figure out if it's cause Jimmy's scared, because of once, a long time ago, the most casual of touches had set something in Tim lose, or if he's being respectful and giving him space, but it's late and they're both tired so Tim can't tell.
All he knows now is that he's been offered a hand, offered freely, and more often than not Tim accepts, like he would deny Jimmy anything.
The blankets and cushions are just as they’ve been left when Raylan and Boyd went to bed earlier, leaving behind a welcoming nest.
Jimmy puts the cup of tea down on the coffee table in easy reach for both of them, then settles down with a sigh, leaning back into the cushions, having been on his feet most of the day. “Tell me about your day?”
“Nah”, Tim shakes his head as he sits down, “Nothing exciting”, pulling his socked feet up under him, fidgeting with a loose thread on the cuff of his sweater.
“How about your night?” Jimmy tries going for casual, instead of saying what he really wants. What happened? Are you ok? How can I make it better? Tell me everything.
It wouldn’t work, so he’s fighting for a calm tone and chooses his words to make sure there’s options, truth or joke, or most likely truth disguised behind a joke.
Of course Tim knows where this is going, can’t help the sigh that’s escaping him before he can stop himself. “Just bad dreams”, waves his hand in a dismissive manner, “nothing new", then drags both hands down his face, takes a breath "Just woke up a little shaky”
Jimmy’s taking it all in, Tim being honest and admitting so openly is a big step, Jimmy recognizes it for the progress it is. Still, he, internally, wants to take it further. Why didn’t you wake anyone up? Or phone me? But that’s too far, he knows Tim’s used to dealing with it all on his own, doesn’t wanna bother anyone, it’s an ongoing learning curve.
Shuffling around, Tim stretches out his legs and moves so he can lean back into Jimmy, not so subtly using the distraction to change the subject, “What about your day? How’s work?”
When Tim looks up his eyes are big and tired, the earlier squint and frown subsiding, too late in the day to control his every move. Jimmy takes it as an invitation to ever so gently brush a lose strand of hair out of Tim's eyes, as no protest follows, he keeps his fingers tangled in Tim’s hair, keeping them connected.
“It was alright. Didn’t get to study much, gotta make sure to hit the books tomorrow, library and all." Absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around his fingers like a grounding fidget toy, for as long as Tim allows it.
"Then gotta get someone to test me on things. Someone who isn't so serious about it so I end up distracted, and neither someone who is trying to distract me cause his idea of study dates are more date than study."
That gets a smile out of Tim. "I'll check my schedule" Which is code for I’m free and happy to help, he just can’t say those exact words.
“Appreciate it”
Tim escapes the smooch Jimmy is trying to plant on his cheek by leaning forward to grab the cup of tea, taking a big swig then hands it over to Jimmy, so with his now free hands Tim can pull one of the blankets closer to be more comfortable; it’s a sign for Jimmy to go on with his story.
"Work was good. Shawn was in a good mood, Kendra did the earlier shift, so everything was neat and organized. Got some good tips and nobody was being too annoying."
Almost to prove his point, Jimmy fishes his, now heavy, wallet out the back pocket of his jeans and throws it into the direction of the coffee table, he misses by a few inches, but sinks a little deeper in the cushions now nothing’s digging in, and cautiously drapes and arm around Tim.
"Oh, you wanna hear about Robbie’s new roommate drama?”
“You know I live for Robbie’s drama!”
Tim's seen right through Jimmy’s ploy from the start but not really caring at this point, it's nice, comforting. Jimmy’s stories from the bar are Tim’s very own personal soap opera and bedtime story, with its regulars and plenty of recurring characters and a huge range of ever changing guest stars. Every now and then he makes an effort to join in and visit Jimmy.
No details are being left out, Jimmy’s even doing some impressions of his co-workers, and referencing other people Tim’s never heard of, but in the end it sure does the trick and his eyes grow heavier. Everyone accounted and a gentle hand in his hair, as he drifts off to sleep.
2) Coffee
“The hell you doin’ out here?”
Raylan’s head snaps towards the door where the voice came from. Of course it was Tim, he didn’t seem to need sleep to function. Whenever asked about it, Tim shrugs it off saying he can deal, he’s fine, getting defensive and ready to argue when someone tries to fight him on it. So more often than not, Tim’s not in bed with them at night and can be found wandering the house or the perimeter like a restless ghost having unfinished business tethered to the grounds. Recently he’s taken up painting by numbers and other more crafty things on suggestion of his therapist, to provide a change form reading and not be something involving a screen.
“What do you mean?” Raylan counters and it’s taking some effort to shift his face to his usual nonchalance, “A guy can’t sit on his porch waiting to watch the sunrise?”
“You’re a little early there, at 4:30am, Raylan”
It was pitch black out, safe for the mosquito repellent candle Raylan must have lit on the rickety side table, the dim light highlighting the dark circles under his eyes, casting shadows that make him look skeletal almost.
“Wanted to be sure not to miss it”, Raylan shrugs, attempting to settle into their usual back and forth, relaxing back into the cushions of their porch swing.
“Sure”, Tim hasn’t moved yet, still standing in the door, considering his options. There’s no way he’s gonna go back to bed, so might as well spend some quality time, and Raylan looks like he could do with some company or at least a friendly, or better, a familiar face. Might do them both some good, Tim decides.
“Gimme a sec”
Raylan just raises an eye brow and takes another sip on his coffee, while Tim disappears back inside, quiet and quick, retrieving the big fluffy blanket from the couch.
There’s ample space for Tim to fit on the porch swing too, with Raylan tucked at one end with the house at his back.
In an attempt to not jostle the porch swing too much, Tim almost trips and falls, but ever graceful manages to plant his butt on the seat somehow, shuffling to sit back against the other armrest, tucking his toes under Raylan’s thigh - he only protests for the sake of it - to keep them warm, and drapes the blanket over them both.
“You could go back to bed”
Shaking his head a little with the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his lips Raylan wants to say, Now you tell me? After you settled in and got comfortable, but out comes, “Not worth it anymore, ’m up now”
The lack of argument evident that they’re both tired enough.
“You could also go to bed, just to mix things up” Raylan suggests, a weak challenge.
Tim huffs a little, “I must have been asleep at some point, didn’t hear you get in”
Cradling his cup of coffee closer to his chest, Raylan hums in the affirmative. "Tried real hard to not wake anyone. I know you all gotta be up early tomorrow"
He had left his boots by the door, had dropped the keys in the dish allocated, hung up his hat, instead of clomping and jangling his way upstairs, without regarding how much noise he makes, like usual.
After he’d tried to wash the itch and the dirt and the smell off his skin and out of his pores, steaming up the bathroom to feel warm again, he did indeed find them all slumbering away in their bedroom, warm and soft and peaceful. And despite the ache that bloomed in his chest at that, he had made an attempt to slot himself in there too, trying to find some comfort.
Even stole some clothes from the others to try to ease the pang in his chest.
In the dark he had grabbed the first thing that was draped over a chair in the bedroom, it had felt soft under his fingertips. Only later he realized it was one of his flannels, just that it smelled like Jimmy with a hint of Boyd underneath, Raylan wants to imagine that they’d spent the evening wrapped up in each other on the couch.
Now, tipping his nose down to the collar to inhale the scent again, it eases something in in him.
Feeling Tim’s eyes on him Raylan looks over, but the candlelight obscures Tim’s usual unreadable expression even more so.
Tim just asks, “Long day?”
Nodding Raylan drops a hand to Tim’s ankle, finding the sliver of skin where his socks end and his sweatpants start, seeking a more tangible connection to another living breathing human, a tether to keep him in the here and now.
“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t get them, though”
“I guess” Raylan says into his cup and breathes deeply, then the shadows slowly creep away when he looks over, “Or maybe I’m finally learning how to be a responsible adult with a work-life balance”
“Ha!” The laugh that erupts out of Tim breaks most of the tension, stifling his laugh with a hand over his mouth in the hopes of not waking the whole house.
Maybe Raylan will talk about it later, or with someone else, sometimes it’s easier with someone who isn’t involved as closely, even if they nowadays work in different departments. Still Raylan tends to take a detour to make sure to pass Tim’s desk on the daily, especially as most mornings they don’t leave the house together.
“Haven't seen your stupid face all day”
“That why you sittin’ all the way over there? To appreciate the view?” Raylan tries for a cheeky smile but he doesn’t quite get there yet, the pretense and the truth are so intertwined that Raylan doesn’t notice he’s doing it. Where they are still connected he squeezes Tim’s ankle “Come ‘ere”, downing the rest of his coffee so his hands are free to pull Tim closer.
Closer. More tether. Something to keep him grounded, an anchor reminding him that there’s good things in his world and not only crime and murder and betrayal.
Tim’s protests are minimal when he gets coaxed and manhandled to where Raylan wants him, snaking an arm around Tim’s waist as soon possible, keeping him ever so close, Raylan slipping a hand under Tim’s shirt to find more skin to press his fingers into.
Pliant in Raylan’s arms Tim can’t really resist leaning in, soaking up the warmth of a familiar body next to him, pulling their blanket this way and that to reposition it around them both to not let the chill get to them.
“You actually wanna watch the sunrise?” Tim asks after a while.
“Might as well while we’re here”
“Sap”
“You know it”, Raylan dares to place a kiss on Tim’s temple, “Can’t remember the last time I was up to watch the sunrise”, humming reminiscently and then dares some more, “You ever watch the sunrise when you’re up early?” Or never came to bed.
“Not intentionally. Depends where I am”
They both fall silent again, more at ease. This early in the day time seems to lose all kinds of meaning.
“On occasion I stop by the big tree down the road, house in sight and sun coming up behind it” Tim admits quietly, like a hushed secret, like he’s not allowed say the softness out loud.
They sit there for a while longer until twilight creeps over the horizon.
“I’m still gonna go for a run in a bit”
“Sure, I’ll put some more coffee on and see if Boyd is cooking any breakfast”
“Or you could make us all breakfast, you know”
“I’ll save that for the weekend”
“I’ll hold you to that and I’m pre-ordering some pancakes”
Raylan just sighs but can’t help smiling.
“You feelin’ better?”
“Yeah, sunrises really doing it for me apparently. Nothing to do with you”
“Sure”, Tim snorts and heads back inside to change into his running gear.
3) Hot chocolate
“What ever are you contemplating down there on the ground?”
Tim turns his head, he’s eye level with Boyd’s fancy velvet slippers, the ones he only ever wears inside the house, he’s got different ones for going out to the porch.
Boyd had almost tripped over Tim down on the floor, laying on the nice rug in their living room, spread out like a starfish.
“Can’t fall any lower” Tim shrugs as well as he can in his position and glances up, but it’s hard to see, then turns back to lay flat again.
“You comfortable?” Are you hurt? Are you cold?
“Yep, would recommend”
Looking down at Tim, Boyd is trying to make out Tim’s eyes to gauge the level of purposefulness at this hour, tilting his head to improve his vision.
"You didn't stop by to grace me with your presence to bid me goodnight and neither did you come to try to persuade me to call it a day"
"'m still up, and not my style" Tim waves a hand gesturing to himself.
On very rare occasions it has happened but usually when the other two are out.
There was no clear routine to Tim's insomnia or the night mares or whatever else kept him awake more often than not. At midnight. At 3AM. No schedule. Sometimes he didn’t even attempt to go to bed at all.
At least today Tim's not laying there in total darkness, which makes Boyd wonder how often Tim has done this in the past and how often nobody had noticed cause he was laying there in the dark, not hiding but hidden.
Tonight the reading light next to the armchair is on, creating looming curious shadows across the walls, strange creatures Tim would sometimes conjure up stories for.
Maybe they really should put up some actual art rather than give the shadow beasts free roam.
“Should I just leave you to it? Leave you with your fellow idiosyncratic specters?”
He can only imagine what he must look like looming over Tim like that, his own gloom becoming one with the surroundings.
“You wanna join?”
Not one to turn down an invitation like this, Boyd gives into the idea laying down on the rug too, mirroring Tim. It’s the nice plush rug Jimmy had really liked in the shop, for some reason the young’ns liked to sit on the floor every now and then, despite there being a spacious and comfortable couch they all fit on.
Tim shuffles over to make space, less starfish more laying in the grass on a sunny afternoon, just inside, at night. Oh well. Could be worse, a lot worse.
Feeling Boyd’s eyes on him, Tim tries to be reassuring but it comes out as a huff, "'m fine, stop staring at me" He gestures to the ceiling, “You gotta look up, otherwise it doesn’t work”
“And what is it we're doing exactly, darlin’?”
"Floor time"
Like that explains anything.
The lack of reaction makes Tim go on, "It gives you a different perspective" He’s still waving his hand around emphasizing his point. Then he lowers his arm and pauses, hesitates, but it’s the middle of the night, it's dark and nobody is looking, so quieter, Tim adds, "Quiets my mind somewhat, plus I get some rest even if I'm not sleeping"
Tim really is trying.
"Hmm, very pleased to hear you're getting some rest, baby"
They lay there for a while. Five minutes? An hour? Nobody is keeping score.
"I believe your floor time magic situation is working"
“Oh, it’s magic now?” Tim looks over with a grin.
“I will say, it sure diminished some of the tension in my shoulders and my head, however I’m not entirely confident I’ll ever be able to get back up of the floor again”
Boyd risks a glance over, Tim’s still smiling.
“If you’d be stuck here I’d make sure to bring you snacks and things”
Tim makes is sounds like a joke except Boyd knows it means so much more, but he only says, “I’d appreciate that immensely, darlin’”
A whisper in the dark Boyd’s not sure he’s supposed to hear says, “Appreciate you, too”
He lets that sink in for a moment, basks in it even, thankful for the night making some things easier.
Boyd can’t resist making a careful suggestion, “You could do this in the bedroom, could you not?”
Admittedly, the rug in the bedroom is not as nice and it’s smaller, but that would be an easy thing to fix if it’d make Tim not to be alone at night, they’d all sure appreciate it.
Seemingly considering it for a second, then changes course, Tim decides on, “And risk getting trampled on by Mr. Clumsy-at-night-cause-my-legs-are-too-long-for-my-own-good? Or him tripping over me and then it’s my fault when he breaks his neck? Nah, thanks”
It’s likely not the only reason but Boyd knows better than to dig deeper right now.
“Plus, unfortunately I’m weirdly fond of the fucker”
Boyd laughs and it rings brightly in the night. “Yeah he does that”
They go quiet again after that.
Tim’s mind wanders. Nobody wants anything, let the quiet wash over him, feeling more loose limbed than he had in a long time. He could just stay here like this for the rest of his life, having life happen around him, only be involved when someone makes the effort to do so, how long would it take for them to treat him like furniture? While he slowly becomes one with the rug and the floor-
“We could put some glow-in-the-dark-stars up?” Boyd breaks the silence, soft and quiet.
“What?” Tim’s reeling coming out of his spiraling thoughts. Maybe it all didn’t quiet his mind as well as he thought or maybe he’s just been laying here too long, maybe at ass-o’clock in the morning when the world’s asleep his spiraling isn’t real or goes through too many scenarios so he ends up back at the start, when laying on the floor felt good. He shifts, wiggling his toes and clenching his fingers, touching the rug under him, to remind himself where he is.
“Glow-in-the-dark-stars? They’d give you something to look at”
Slowly peeling his gaze away from the ceiling Tim turns his head, “Ain’t need nothing else to look at when you’re right here”
A flash of teeth evident in the dark.
“Thought you needed to look up to reap all the benefits of floor time”
He gets a hum in response. “Using my own thing against me”
“I’m merely offering options, Timothy darlin’”
It feels like time is standing still, like they’re in a vacuum, a place naught of judgment or fear.
Eyes set firmly back on the ceiling Tim says more to himself, “I’ve always wanted glow-in-the-dark-stars”, sounding reminiscent while knowing how to navigate his own personal land mines. “Especially during my space phase” He takes a breath, exhales slowly. “For a few months I was convinced I was gonna be an astronaut. Show everyone. And get as far from there as humanly possible.”
It’s all he gets, but Boyd is a little in awe that he was able to bear witness to Tim sharing something from a time long gone, something that must have been sitting so deep in Tim’s chest under his ribs, he had most likely forgotten about it, forgotten something he had hidden from the world and from himself for so long.
Maybe Boyd is starting to believe in the floor time magic after all. He reaches out to squeeze Tim’s arm oh so gently, trying for reassuring.
“I’ll make you a deal. I make us some hot chocolate, the good stuff with real genuine chocolate, you come to bed and make an attempt to rest there. In that order”
Tim rolls over to squint at him, if it’s the darkness or that he’s trying to figure him out isn’t clear. “The fancy one that Jimmy in a post-Christmas deal?”
“The same. I might have had the foresight to hide it from certain people”
Tim snickers and suddenly in a smooth motion that surprises himself a little, he’s standing, looming over Boyd, “Deal” holding out a hand to shake and help him up.
The payoff for whatever magic, that may or may not have been happening, seems to have been worth it.
+ 1) Ice water
Books and papers are strewn across the kitchen table, Jimmy scribbling away and highlighting things, chewing on the end of a pen.
“Why you not doing this in the office?” Raylan asks while he starts getting ingredients out for a late breakfast.
“Oh, am I in the way?” Jimmy shuffles his papers, closing some of the books.
“No, darlin’, ’s not what I meant” Raylan reaches out to cover Jimmy’s hand with his own.
“Just wondering why you chose this spot, not the office, not the couch table”
Flipping his hand under Raylan’s touch Jimmy tangles their fingers together.
“The office is too solitary and the living room is too distracting and you might wanna have a nap or read or something later. Now, the kitchen’s ideal, quiet but still hearing what’s going on in the house. Plus you all stop here sooner or later, so I got doses of welcome distraction, and I’ll have to stop when it’s dinner time. But really the close proximity to food and the coffee maker are the main reason” Jimmy smiles.
“I’ve just been called a distraction” Raylan throws his hands up in mock exasperation.
“As it is the truth” Boyd’s chiming in as he goes to refill his coffee cup.
“Should I get Tim so you can all band together against me?”
“Alas, I have not been graced by his presence yet today, wherever is he?”
“Asleep in bed last time I checked”
“It’s-“, Jimmy turns to glances at the clock hanging up behind him, “10.30am on a Sunday. Usually he’d have been up for hours and would have started some laundry or something."
“There was a special assignment” Raylan waves a hand in the air like he only just remembered the fact and as that explains everything “He got home late- or early”
“Why, Raylan dear, have you been withholding this information until now?”
“Where were you?”
“What about special assignment is so hard to understand? Sometimes Tim’s specific skills are called upon somewhere else. I’ve got nothing to do with this, he’d just left a note on my desk”
“Are we to presume that this a decompression period then?”
“I’ve shared all the information I have, Boyd”
“I don’t like this”, Jimmy stands abruptly and puts his pen down with a rare finality; he's heading upstairs.
Boyd and Raylan share a look and follow suit.
Surely there Tim is, fast asleep.
"You think he’s ok?" Jimmy whispers.
Raylan inches closer to the bed, "He must have been out for hours"
“I had falsely assumed he’d slipped out when I was in the kitchen earlier, I wanna say it was around 8am, it being Sunday and all when I sat down, he's usually back by then and I indeed did not double check"
"Should i poke him?"
"No, Raylan!" Jimmy and Boyd say in unison while trying to drag him away form the bed.
"Let him sleep"
“Anyone check his pulse? Just to be safe”, Raylan tries to take another step closer.
“Can you not see him breathing, look— “
They all freeze when there’s a groan and and the lumpy shape under the covers moves.
“You know I can hear you!”
“This is your fault” Boyd hisses and swats Raylan's arm. “Ow”
Tim rolls over and lazily flings a pillow at the three of them, it falls to the ground before hitting anyone.
“Why are you all awake?” checks his watch, which he’s still wearing, weird, it shows, 5.42am, strange, as that definitely doesn’t match up with how the sun is shining into the room, stretching to get a better look out the window Tim sits up, “Am I dreaming?” , presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, “Am I dead?”
“What? No, we-“
“It’s not—“, Tim lifts his wrist to check the date on his watch, “Nope, not my birthday”, squints and rubs some sleep out of his eyes, “Anniversary? I can never keep track of them all”
“You haven’t missed anything” Jimmy reaches down to grab the pillow Tim’s thrown and throws it back on the bed.
“We were just… cautious on behalf of you not having been roused by the sun as usual, as it is now much closer to 11am”
“A guy isn’t allowed to sleep anymore? It was just getting light when I got back”, he yawns almost to emphasize his point.
“Sorry, we can let you sleep some more”
“Bit late for that now” Tim scratches his neck and absentmindedly massages his shoulder, “Stop fussing over me”
Fed up, he gets out of bed, the worn out t-shirt he’d put on loosely hanging off of him.
Neither Boyd, Jimmy, or Raylan have moved an inch, just tracking his every step.
Oh. Tim lets out a small sigh, “I didn’t kill anyone. Everyone’s fine. ’m just getting too old to lay in the dirt for hours on end” Twisting his head this way and that to get rid of a crick in his neck.
“Now stop looking at me”
“You are just a sight to behold sweetheart” That just earns Boyd an eye roll.
“Can you just all leave, I’ll be down in a bit” tries to round them up and shoo them out of the bedroom.
No reaction.
“Suit yourselves”, Tim swivels around to change tactic and grabs some clothes. “Surely you all got shit to do, so nobody follow me, gonna hit the shower.” With his bundle of clothes leaves the room, turns back to yell, “I was promised pancakes by the way!”
“Is is a promise when you ordered them?”
“You actually gonna make pancakes, Raylan?” Back in the kitchen Jimmy starts sorting out his text books so the table is usable for its intended purpose.
“Sure am, just didn’t get any further than taking the flour and sugar out” He gets a bowl and grabs a whisk along with the measuring cups, and stick his head in the fridge for eggs and milk.
Boyd settles at the table with a chopping board and a knife “Secret family recipe I hope” and starts cutting up some strawberries.
“The only one I know”
It’s a familiar back and forth, Jimmy’s heard it countless of times at this point.
Leaning closer to Boyd Jimmy asks, “He ever tell you what the secret is?”
“No, he’s never said”
“It’s secret for a reason”
Raylan didn’t cook often and when he did he wasn’t the most tidy or organized, but on the other hand the results usually spoke for themselves, no one could argue there.
The house is filled with the sweet comforting scent of freshly made pancakes, once Tim makes it down to join them in the kitchen, he stops in the door, the domesticity of it all hitting him in full force.
It used to scare him, sharing a home with people again, it had terrified him at the start, he’d tip-toed around the others, was constantly on edge, afraid he’d do something wrong, worried to be judged for every move, fear he’d have an episode and hurt someone.
Despite all the talks and discussions it was different once it was reality and not pure theory anymore, felt different, despite the space it had felt claustrophobic at first. Yes Tim can adapt quickly but it really feeling like home took time and patience from everyone involved. They had all fought in their own way to get here, nobody willing to give up that easy, give and take, slowly settling into their dynamic, not that it was perfect, nothing is, but they make it work because they want to.
Tim had never thought he’d get to have any of this, unattainable, unrealistic.
He feels the skin at his ribs prickle, an itch crawling its way up his spine.
Keep it together! Makes his was to the fridge, gets to the little freezer compartment to get the ice cube tray out. Finds the garish plastic cup someone got a some kind of event, but it’s big and won’t shatter in a million pieces in case he drops it. Pops as many ice cubes as possible in the cup, he can hear the clinking over the rushing in his ears, he fills the rest with water, and drinks like he’s parched. Holds the cold cup against his face until his breathing goes back to normal. Panic attack adverted.
The noise in his ears dies down, and he can hear the radio’s on in the background, but the rest of the world seems frozen, nobody’s moving. He can feel the eyes on him.
“I’m fine” it comes out strained and sounds wrong and unbelievable to his own ears. “Jus’ give me a minute”
“You wanna be alone?”
What he wants is to be ok and eat breakfast with them all, get comfortable on the couch and read for a while, see if anyone’s up for some lazy Sunday sex, maybe have a nap after, and as nobody fancies cooking dinner they order pizza and end up on the couch together.
So Tim shakes his head, no. No, he doesn’t want to be alone.