"I don't snore," he protested with a laugh that knew better, lifting his head a little at the shifting and dropping it back down with another satisfied breath as the sheet was pulled up over him, heart skipping at the draw of Doc's finger. He hadn't been cold but even if he was, he was too drunk to notice. Not to drunk to notice it wasn't nothing. He knew it wasn't nothing and now, it was starting to chew at him like a needy little thing. There were no amount of moonshine excuses to change that.
At the comment, Raylan looked over Doc's way. The dark of a bedroom must be too similar to the dark of a well. It had more than enough air and space to avoid being a mine, but Raylan could make a jump to the faint idea of what that must be like. The impulse to reach over and do just that, swiftly tend to those concerns with a touch was just as swiftly stifled. What if he was wrong?
"She is," he agreed softly. Mathis was going to break them more; Raylan could sense that much, like a storm in the air. They were going to need each other.
What if he wasn't wrong? After a long moment of silence, Raylan studying the shadowed outline of Doc's features in the dark, he opted for a leap of verbal faith. "My hands right here, when you need it." It was held up between them, pulled out from under the sheet, though he couldn't say how much of it Doc could see. "Don't think I'd mind at all." He wouldn't mind a lotta things. More than he should probably not mind but Doc and Malcolm had been working on him for a while now. Too many jokes and innuendos and open comforting understanding arms.
But he couldn't rush this. He didn't know how or how he'd handle it afterwards if he did. They were slow moving men, in this department, that's all he knew.
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At the comment, Raylan looked over Doc's way. The dark of a bedroom must be too similar to the dark of a well. It had more than enough air and space to avoid being a mine, but Raylan could make a jump to the faint idea of what that must be like. The impulse to reach over and do just that, swiftly tend to those concerns with a touch was just as swiftly stifled. What if he was wrong?
"She is," he agreed softly. Mathis was going to break them more; Raylan could sense that much, like a storm in the air. They were going to need each other.
What if he wasn't wrong? After a long moment of silence, Raylan studying the shadowed outline of Doc's features in the dark, he opted for a leap of verbal faith. "My hands right here, when you need it." It was held up between them, pulled out from under the sheet, though he couldn't say how much of it Doc could see. "Don't think I'd mind at all." He wouldn't mind a lotta things. More than he should probably not mind but Doc and Malcolm had been working on him for a while now. Too many jokes and innuendos and open comforting understanding arms.
But he couldn't rush this. He didn't know how or how he'd handle it afterwards if he did. They were slow moving men, in this department, that's all he knew.