The way Tim pressed against him, trusted him to hold him this close was part of the reason that Raylan was able to say what he had, part of the reason they'd gotten as far as they had. He didn't take this lightly, the way Tim had peeled back layers of himself for Raylan's acceptance, for Raylan's understanding and love and protection from the worst parts of his own head. An effective distraction, but no solution. That would only come from Tim himself.
Raylan spread his hands around Tim's shoulders, rubbing one hand up and down his back to beat off the chill that had settled there as the sniper took his moment to breathe. For a long second before Tim started talking, Raylan was afraid he was going to say that he couldn't do this. That Raylan and opening himself was too much, that it was a risk to high for him to take. Raylan wouldn't have blamed him.
Seven years. That was nearly half his life at that point. Far too early to be sending young men to war, but war and it's trauma's on young men were well documented throughout history. This wasn't anything new for their species, as terrible and tragic as it was. But Raylan's heart didn't have to worry about the countless war victims; just the one in his arms now.
Tim could cry if he wanted to. Raylan wouldn't judge him for it. Raylan's hand didn't stop rubbing as Tim came to an end and he turned his lips into Tim's hair.
"It did hurt," he admitted, soft against all the hard against them. "More than I thought it was going to." It devastated him in a way, to have everything he thought was true cut out from under him inside a few sharp words that left him throat tight.
"And I know you're tryin'. It's good that you are. Trust me when I say these people aren't gonna kick you around or judge you. Neal and Malcolm especially. For all the bite they can be capable of, the New Yorkers are the softest among us. The kindest too, by my bet. Doc's the most hospitable. I suppose I'm the most suspicious.." Considering.
"Alls that matters is that you're trying. There's no schedule or time limit on this. Don't you go thinkin' that. It's okay."
no subject
Raylan spread his hands around Tim's shoulders, rubbing one hand up and down his back to beat off the chill that had settled there as the sniper took his moment to breathe. For a long second before Tim started talking, Raylan was afraid he was going to say that he couldn't do this. That Raylan and opening himself was too much, that it was a risk to high for him to take. Raylan wouldn't have blamed him.
Seven years. That was nearly half his life at that point. Far too early to be sending young men to war, but war and it's trauma's on young men were well documented throughout history. This wasn't anything new for their species, as terrible and tragic as it was. But Raylan's heart didn't have to worry about the countless war victims; just the one in his arms now.
Tim could cry if he wanted to. Raylan wouldn't judge him for it. Raylan's hand didn't stop rubbing as Tim came to an end and he turned his lips into Tim's hair.
"It did hurt," he admitted, soft against all the hard against them. "More than I thought it was going to." It devastated him in a way, to have everything he thought was true cut out from under him inside a few sharp words that left him throat tight.
"And I know you're tryin'. It's good that you are. Trust me when I say these people aren't gonna kick you around or judge you. Neal and Malcolm especially. For all the bite they can be capable of, the New Yorkers are the softest among us. The kindest too, by my bet. Doc's the most hospitable. I suppose I'm the most suspicious.." Considering.
"Alls that matters is that you're trying. There's no schedule or time limit on this. Don't you go thinkin' that. It's okay."