villagelogs | 062 » that moment of experience / part i

Entry tags:

062 » that moment of experience / part i

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Southern/Western Mathias
WHEN: Day 062
WHAT: A storm rains destruction upon the town.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here! Part II details are below.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Deadly Avenger "Creeper"

DAY 062
THAT MOMENT OF EXPERIENCE
“A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one
chooses that moment of experience from which to
look back or from which to look ahead.”
— Graham Greene
The day begins like any other might. The clouds occasionally part to give glimpses of the sun, offering a bit of hope that the hours might pass without incident. It is a hope that is soon dashed, however, for midday brings with it a suddenly darkening sky. Those near the beach will be able to see the ocean churning as all light seems to be bled from the day, the sky darkening into a purplish-black more quickly than is natural, the process taking a mere ten minutes from start to finish.

And then it begins.

The rain is so heavy and pouring so fast that the ground cannot take it all in, sending rivers down streets and leaving lawns as lakes. The winds blow in gusts so strong that they could knock someone over, and the lightning that arcs brightly through the sky is immediately followed by thunder that shakes the town to its core, the tremors almost reminiscent of the earthquakes that plagued the town only days ago.

For some, the storm will be another nuisance of mother nature, forcing them to remain wherever they were before its sudden approach. But for others, it will be far more than that, for this storm is seeking revenge on those who sought to destroy the town. Destruction will rain down and it will not stop until its vengeance is satisfied.

THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the beach near The Grey Gull. It's a bit chilly out with their wet clothes, but surely there's something to help warm them inside the restaurant. If nothing else, the cowboys' homemade moonshine should do the trick.

ABOUT THE STORM
The storm will begin at midday and last until late into the night, only calming in the early hours of the morning. The heavy rain will flood the streets, though it will not be enough to flood the buildings themselves (except as noted below), and the winds and thunder will shake the town with such strength that it will almost seem as if the town is trying to tear itself apart.

But this is not a simple storm. For those residents who took part in any way in the destruction of the Town Hall, History Museum, or Stoker Park house, they will find the storm will destroy their shelter in some fashion. This can include broken windows, caved-in roofs, flooding from the rain, or even lightning striking the building. The details are up to player choice but something will be damaged by the storm.

— All damage to buildings will be repaired by the dawn of the following day as if it never happened at all. There is no way to witness this process taking place.
— If a resident is sheltering in a shared living space with others who did not take part in the destruction of the town, you may choose to have only your character's section of that location damaged. However...
— The storm's focus will follow the resident if they move to another area or location, meaning that the new location will also suffer damage in some way.
— Only those who took part in the town destruction in some way will be targeted by the storm, but innocent bystanders can be caught up in the situation as well.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— THE WEATHER conditions remain fairly typical for early fall: warm days and cool nights. It feels almost like spring arriving except that there fewer red and orange leaves on the ground and more of them oddly returning to the trees and slowly fading to green. It's like watching one of those nature documentaries that have a timelapse of the seasons, only it's going in reverse.

— THE FOG has retreated from some areas!
— Residents may now wander the southern stretch of the forest surrounding Mathias Township — it is possible to leave the paths but potentially unwise to do so.
— The fog has also retreated farther into the western section of town, now stretching across town between Stine Road and Shelley Drive. This has revealed the Chasm in the earth that stretches from one side of town to the other between Stine and Hill Lane.
— Access to the northern section of the forest is still blocked beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline; this section of fog will urge residents to stay huddled within the town proper by inducing a physical reaction of panic and fear.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue! Ellie has vanished while others have returned.

— ALCOHOL supplies have run dry, save for any dregs that have been squirreled away by individual residents. Moonshine can still be acquired by those in desperate need.

OOC NOTES

— NEW MAP Thanks so much to Scy for this amazing new map of Mathias!

— PROJECT HELP Your mod needs help with some projects!

— PART II The next part of the log series will be have characters divided up (by OOC choice, not IC) into groups, so be sure to sign up for one asap. Anyone who doesn't make the deadline will be automatically assigned to an available spot.

— UPDATES Don't forget to report updates as they come up! Changes to locations (like toppling a few bookshelves in the library), big plots you have coming up that will affect the game (parties, major property destruction, etc), or exciting discoveries that may tie into the game's mythology (even the things provided by the mod) are very helpful to have in one place so relevant page updates can be made. IC events are also helpful to know about in advance so they can be included in the log write-ups.

— MOD STATUS The usual reminder that it's just Amy steering this ship, so things will are going to be pretty slow for a while. Apologies in advance, and please don't feel shy about pestering me if you're stuck waiting for something. (All outstanding matters will be taken care of in the next few days!)

navigation | faq | locations | report updates

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Kiss my ass!' Normally Tim would have shot back something like gladly! But nothing about these moments were normal.

He had already been waterlogged even before he went sailing into the ocean, but now he was waterlogged and sandy as he lay on the beach trying to remember how to breath. The wind howled above him and though it was a level of fanciful that Tim usually didn't allow himself, he believed he could hear the wind telling him to stay down.

Flexing his soaked hands across the wet sand he was barely aware of his fingers forming the universal gesture of retreat. Not unlike Raylan, Tim was staying down; accepting Mathias' superior power and practically apologizing for getting above himself. It seemed as if the wind abated a little, though that could have just been Tim's wishful thinking.

He'd been in enough fisticuffs, car wrecks and other blunt force trauma events to understand that the longer he lay in place the harder it was going to be to get his muscles to move. When it seemed that Mathias had decided he'd been spanked enough, for the time being anyway, the wind and rain no longer pummeling him into the shoreline Tim started to draw himself up to his hands and knees.

By the time Raylan reached him, the younger marshal was still on his knees, sitting back on his heels and looking more than a little dazed. His brain function was not quite to the point of practicality of what to do next. When he saw Raylan, lanky body tilted against the wind, Tim raised a hand in a wave and he would stay on his knees even when the older man reached him.

Blinking up at Raylan, Tim appeared to give it some thought before his lips moved. Whether his partner could hear him or not, it would be easy to read the sentiment. "That was better theory, than practice!"

There were no words for the wash of relief that rushed over Raylan at the sight of Tim on the sand in front of him and the steady stride he'd been working on busted out into a run. There was no energy for waving or yelling, or even being pissed off about them putting him in that position in the first place. Knees and legs already like jello from the climbing, stopping was ungracefully achieved by dropping into the sand next to him.

"We're both stupid sonvabitches you know that?" Even projecting that was a lot and Raylan shook his head. Mathis had no regard for their supplication, waves creeping up to beat at the inches of sand behind their feet and as though she was telling them to not dawdle, lightening struck a handful of yards away, the sound of it's crack deafiningly loud.

Raylan flinched back into action and pushed hastily to his feet to reach down and start dragging Tim up to his, throwing Tim's arm over his shoulder so he could help move them both right the hell along. "We gotta go!"

"Yeah I think I got that memo the third time Art circulated it!" Tim called back, ducking his head slightly in response to the lightning strike.

He reached up when Raylan reached down, accepting some of the assistance but also doing his utmost to balance and carry his own weight. Even once he was on his feet he turned and gripped the front of Raylan's shirt. Tim would insist it was to help the older marshal stabilize but there were shades of an unspoken reassurance being given and also sought in the contact.

Tim was ambulatory enough to follow where Raylan guided them and he did not look back at the ocean that had spit him out. It had been too close to going the other way. When they got off the sand and onto the path near the Gull, the younger marshal leaned towards his partner in order to be heard.

"We could try hunkering down in one of the really dilapidated places? Hard to blow the windows off something that doesn't have windows ... or much of a roof to begin with!"

The grip against his chest was a solid reminder that this wasn't a hallucination or a nightmare, that Tim was still a viable, breathing body next to him and it helped steady him against the violent gust of wind that shoved him into the smaller man. The wind was a great excuse, but Raylan needed it and his own free hand came to fist into the fabric over Tim's stomach.

He was grateful for the immovable ground that met them after the shifting sands - that made moving a little easier, but the wear was still there. Raylan shook his head at the suggestion and leaned in to answer.

"Your first idea wasn't bad, just needs some adjustment. Town Hall or Library? Let's see if this bitch'll hit her own important landmarks." It didn't hurt (though it didn't occur to Raylan) that there were tunnels in both those locations.

"Town Hall," The words came out of Tim before he had a chance to really think about it. The Library was where he had performed his initial stupid stunt in Mathias and he was in no hurry to revisit the scene of his idiocy. Not when his body was still in shock from his current ill advised endeavor.

Unless Raylan asked him another question, Tim would go quiet and put his focus towards keeping his head against the wind and moving with Raylan towards the Town Hall. It was no easy trek, which was why he kept his arm over Raylan's shoulder and his fist in his shirt. At least that would be the answer he gave if anyone spotted them and asked. Silently he fitted himself to the older man's side so close that their legs brushed when they both stepped forward.

Tim would remain like that until they were through the doors of the Town Hall and briefly out of the wind and the rain. Only then did he mutter a comment about floor, as a warning to Raylan before the Ranger's legs gave out and he landed in a wet, sandy heap on the floor.

"Fuck." He said succinctly but with fervent emotion.

Town Hall it was. Raylan wasn't even thinking about the night Tim had off'd himself otherwise he wouldn't have suggested the library, but his brain had been racing for the first alternative structure that would suit their needs. If Mathis aimed to kill them, she'd have to take down her main hall with them.

It took them longer than usual, it seemed like, but Raylan leaned his weight against Tim's and told himself that they could make it. They just had to keep moving.

Once past the doors, Raylan was looking for a place to put them both down at when Tim fell and as pushed as he already was, there was no keeping them upright. Raylan landed on the floor with a hard grunt, followed by a groan as he gave up and rested his head on the dirty stone tile. The reprieve from the storm let the exhaustion that he had been fighting creep into a stronger hold.

"Please tell me you're okay," he managed through heavy breaths. "Anythin' broken or bleedin' out?"

Raylan had wanted to ask out there, but the drive for survival had made him take his own hasty account of Tim's well being, and he didn't see any gushers but Tim would know better.

Sprawled out on the ground not to far away from his partner Tim settled on his back and took a moment to check all four limbs. He was fairly certain there were no cracked bits but it never hurt to check, especially as adrenaline could mask a lot of ills.

"Everything feels intact," he confirmed with a healthy dose of assurance. He could already feel the adrenaline crash moving through him, leaving behind awareness of soft tissue injuries but nothing that made him think internal bleeding.

"I'm going to have some spectacular contusions in a few hours; all the pretty colors," he wasn't looking forward to it, but it came with the job often enough that bruises were cause for ribbings and teasing.

Trying to ignore the icy chill that was settling into his bones as the adrenaline continued to retreat, Tim turned his head towards Raylan and immediately frowned.

"You've got blood on your feet," he began to roll onto his side, moving to investigate. "Where are you bleeding?" Did Raylan have an injury up his leg? The adrenaline came rushing back as Tim envisioned a possible cut near the femoral artery. Those rocks had been sharp and he had no idea how Raylan had come down off them.

Raylan was not ready to be anything other than not moving - he'd be staying right here for another minute thank you very much. His body was still screaming at him from the tips of his fingers to his toes, which was impressive, considering how long his legs were. Everything hurt and he could guess why, so no digging into his senses seemed to be needed.

"You shoulda turned back, Tim, you shouldn't'a pushed ahead," he breathed out, tone thin with his exhaustion, eyes closing as he slacked into the floor. But he hadn't turned back. They hadn't. And now Tim was gonna be looking like a bruised fruit being looked at through a kaleidoscope for at least a week and a half. Raylan was grateful that that was the only thing they had to suffer for their stupidity.

You've got blood on your feet. Raylan frowned and cracked his eyes open, rolling over onto his side so he could shift up to a sitting position. It all came with a groan though, a wince and a slowness that hadn't been there this morning.

"Shit," he muttered at the sight of blood in his footprints, covering the soles of his feet. It was only in the brushing them off that he stopped to look at his hands, red and ragged at the edges, covered in microabrasions. Not enough to stop him from doing anything, but he was going to be sore in more than one way.

Raylan clucked under his breath. "It's fine," he assured. "It'll be fine."

It wasn't going to be fine. Their experiment was tested with a gust of wind that rattled the windows until they explored inwards, causing Raylan to reach out, grab Tim and pull him back down to the ground. The doors behind them gusted open, slamming hard enough to dislodge one upper door hinge and creak threateningly over them.

"If I could have reached it, it might have been valuable," he reiterated stubbornly, refusing to give air to the self doubts that were already crawling out of the shadows to scold him.

When Raylan started to work his way to sitting Tim levered himself up on an elbow. As he saw the damage to the older marshal's feet he hissed and began to push himself to hands and knees.

"Is there a first aid kit in here? We need to clean those lacer..." was as far as he got in his fussing when the explosive sound of shattering glass overrode his words. He went readily when Raylan pulled him down, but also threw himself the short distance between them to get his body between his partner and the flurry of shattered glass caught on the wind now pouring in through their breached sanctuary.

"This town really wants to kill us!" He said close to Raylan's ear, reaching up with one hand to tuck the older man's face into the safety of his chest. "Any other ideas?!"

'If We' sat on the tip of Raylan's tongue but no quarter was being given to them to do something about it, it seemed and any half normal argument was going to have to wait. If he had more than a few seconds to linger on their position, he would have noted how sweet the way Tim cradled and protected his face was, but in the chaos, he could only press himself into the security of it.

"The tunnels! There's one in here," he yelled back, pulling back to glance up that way, wind whipping his long hair around. "Ain't far, c'mon. Worst she can do is flood us down there."

They would have a good few hours of peace at least, right? Hopefully?

Pushing up, one hand fisted again in Tim's shirt - like hell he was letting the sniper get away from him again - Raylan slipped, caught himself and started pushing forwards.

Tim's expression said that he wasn't sure he'd take drowning over getting smashed by a flying tree branch, but at this point he wasn't going to argue. He nodded and pushed up to his feet, doing his utmost not to burden Raylan. He noted the fist in his shirt -his turn to be on a makeshift leash- and he reached for the older marshal when the man slipped. Raylan caught himself so Tim gave him room to move under his own power, though his hands remained in the 'cover the civilian' spread to either side of Raylan's shoulders; ready to take him down to safety.

He didn't know where the entrance to the tunnel was located in this building so all he could do was follow Raylan, stay close and try to protect his back. If the older man was right about the tunnel and they didn't end up drowned, they could pick up the argument where it had been left off.

Raylan pulled Tim down the steps that led into the tunnels, ignoring the paper stuck to one of his feet or the slight rubble that still existed on the steps that made his feet hurt worse. Still, he was nimble for an old man and his long legs made work of the steps two at a time.

They hit flat ground and Raylan kept them moving for another twenty five yards before he stumbled to a stop against the wall, the momentum of it turning him and sliding him down onto his ass where he started laughing. It was fine at first but started to edge towards hysteria before his wide spread legs pulled up, hoisting his weight on the knife's edge of his feet as he buried his face in his hands. The laugh bled into heavy breathing that Raylan had to focus to start to reign in.

"God, now that we're down here, if she caves it in.. Fuck me. I can't die down here."

Even with Raylan being three quarters leg the sniper had usually been able to keep up with him. There were a couple of steps upon which he nearly stumbled but relief he felt when the pounding wind was left above them gave Tim a much needed burst of energy.

It carried him along those twenty-five yards and helped him keep his footing when Raylan suddenly dropped. At first the laughter sounded fairly standard operating procedure for the irreverent humor they all shared around the office. But as it continued Tim looked down at his partner and his brow furrowed with concern.

A cacophony of thoughts crashed through Tim's head all at once, nearly overwhelming him with conflicting reactions. Guilt battled against concern before they twined together into one clear message. Raylan was experiencing a much needed breaking point. Had skidded well past the line of reeling it back, despite what Tim knew would be a desperate attempt to bottle it all up, tuck it back up under the hat.

"Raylan," he said in a tone that projected more strength than Tim might have felt at the moment. Going down on one knee, he didn't stop to ask permission as he gathered the older man into his arms. Drawing Raylan back into the shelter of his chest, practically into his lap he bent his head and pressed his cheek against drenched hair, whispering. "I'm not letting you go. Stop trying to run from me; from yourself. It's okay to hurt."

It was a desperate scramble to scrape and clutch up the fracturing parts of him, all the ones that he'd superglued back into place time and again here, from his first cry out for Boyd like the hillbilly was gonna be his savior in the dark like he had so many years ago, to his latest screaming match out on the cliffs. Mathis had taken 'Always Be Cool' out back and beaten it black and blue. His cool could only take so much, could only last so long before the human underneath cracked out like a fucked up hillbilly kraken.

There was no fight in him against being collected, though his hands didn't move and he couldn't tell if the wetness on his cheeks was from the storm or not. Definitely from the storm for the official record, if anyone should ask. A bent leg accounted for what bend Raylan's position would allow and he took a good fifteen seconds before he trusted his voice to come out in anything resembling a level tone.

"I hate this place so fuckin' much." Not as much as he hated living in Arlo's, but it was starting to get close. "A goddamned breeze is enough to rip people away here, we got no idea where anyone else is or how many of 'em we're gonna havta bury tomorrow if we're not in some new kinda hellscape." One hand fisted and punched forward into Tim's shoulder but without any real space, it was useless until Raylan slid the hand up over Tim's shoulder to drag the wet fabric into his fist like it would stop Tim from having fallen at all.

"S'not okay to hurt, not here, not at home, is it. Mathis feeds off it and it eats me alive there if I let it settle. What the fuck were we thinkin' tryin' to scale a goddamn clifface in this weather." What he was was scared. Both for himself and for Tim and for whatever else Mathis held for them and the strength it would take to face it without folding like a cheap suit. Raylan knew he could do it but goddamn it was hard.

The fist to his shoulder was negligible and Tim absorbed it without making a noise. The younger marshal made no move to try to see his partner's face. If he did he would absolutely sign off on the report that the dampness on Raylan's cheeks was no more than rain water. But he was trying to give Raylan privacy, even as he held him close.

He did his best to shift in such a way that the older man could settle in a more comfortable sprawl against him. The two of them were all arms and legs knotted together on the hard stone floor, but so far it was dry and no rocks were falling on them.

Tim was no psychologist. He could recognize what was happening with the man in his arms and he knew, in his gut that it was good for Raylan to get this out. But it was hard because there was nothing he could say to help. There was no assurances he could give. Raylan had a damn good reason to be scared, to be angry and to feel pushed beyond what any sentient being should be made to endure. Here they were down in a tunnel in the dark and Tim was trying to stumble along the best he could.

"It's not fair," he said in a soft tone. Because it wasn't. None of it was fucking fair. Not to them, not to Malcolm, Athena, Jeff ... all of them. Whatever this town (or the entity in this town) was doing to them was cruel beyond measure. The words were a shot in the dark, hoping to coax more out of Raylan. More raging, more tears, more admittance that he was hanging on by a thread; any of it. There was a crack in the door Raylan kept locked up tight and Tim knew in his gut that his partner needed light on this before he tried to slam the door shut.

He couldn't admit anything about threads - He didn't know what came after they snapped. There was no short form plan for how to proceed when you couldn't take anymore and had nothing to point that towards. Not when he knew just how much damage and pain he could inflict if the wrong someone got in the way. Raylan was hardcoded in such a way that breaking down into tears and inconsolability wasn't an option for him, not without a total shutdown.

There was too much to protect for a shut down.

But for right now, Mathis hadn't found a way to stick a claw down the tunnel and mix them around like scrambled eggs, Tim wasn't dead, neither of them had broken anything and if he did die down here, it wouldn't be alone.

Raylan's off hand finally fell from his face to momentarily fist into Tim's shirt before sliding around a few inches to a better hold, though said face was kept safely hidden away in the shelter of Tim's shoulder. He wasn't supposed to be seen like this, and especially not seen like this by someone he was supposed to be a support for. Their age gave them a natural hierarchy, however Tim might argue it, however often he might take point, it was more often than not Raylan out there pushing things, driving them on, taking a lead in it.

Mathis, and their relationship in it, what Raylan had already seen and know to be true of the sniper, was starting to equal out that footing in a rough but needed kinda way.

"Not by half," he agreed, eyes closed as he focused on calming down and reigning his bullshit back in. Small vents to stop whatever came after that last thread snapped. "If we all didn't feel so goddamned useless, we wouldn't be pullin' this shit, would we."

It wasn't really a question. He knew the answer was yes.

There age should have given them a natural hierarchy but Tim would argue that it had never really been the case. Raylan might take the lead on a lot, push things forward and/or push things forward at a pace where other men would have been more cautious. But Tim would argue that he was the one looking for the thorns in the ditch Raylan just jumped in blindly. Tim was the one who pulled Raylan out of the ditch when he went in too deep.

Even in the newly established intimacy between them. Raylan was very skilled in bed, but Tim had experiences to share that the older marshal had yet to even imagine. They were learning to balance on a fulcrum that demanded give and take from both of them in equal measure.

In the spirit of equal measure, Tim settled on his ass to further encourage their current position for the duration. He was still holding his breath, waiting for them to be disturbed in this last refuge but as each moment passed without water crashing in on them, or rocks falling, he relaxed a little bit more. He did not push Raylan any further on the subject of the near hysterical laughter; giving the man all the space he needed to get his poop in a group.

While still holding him close! Holding him close but even that began to balance towards Tim holding on for his own needs.

"Least this place could do is give us Dewey Crowe to play with," he said. It was a nonsensical statement but there simply wasn't anything Tim could give to Raylan about their circumstances here. No assurances, no promises and at this moment in time and space he did not have any clear plan for what to do next. It may come in a few hours, but not right now. "Maybe Dickie Bennet?"

Raylan had survived everything up until he arrived at the Lexington office; Tim helped him out of some tight spots, saved his ass more than a few times but there were more on the field hours under Raylan's belt than Tim's due to Raylan's experience alone. The same that there were more lewd hours of experience under Tim's belt than Raylan's, if they were to talk flavors.

They complimented each other well, each with enough experience on the other side of that line to meet each other's needs.

Raylan shifted a little, his right leg tucking up on that side like it would be a wall against what was still raging above them as his grip refused to let Tim get too far away. It didn't matter who needed who, they both needed one another right now and Raylan was oddly settling into that as the adrenaline of it all finally starting to ebb a little bit.

"Place would eat them alive and so would I," he scoffed, turning his head a little so his forehead tucked into Tim's neck for a long second before he lifted his head. "Too much abuse, even for them.. You can't be okay internally after takin' that fall." Even if no bones were broken.. Tim was lucky to not be dead or worse.

They did compliment each other well, had for a while now. It was part of the reason why their compatibility in a more intimate setting was not as much of a surprise as it might have been otherwise.

"Would at least be amusing to watch," Tim pointed out before Raylan shifted and the sniper moved to put his shoulders between Raylan's head, chest and the stone wall. He fitted himself to the protection of that long leg and into his partner's warmth. Now that the adrenaline had almost cleared his system he was feeling the cold. The goods news being that the cold was keeping any aches at bay for the time being.

"I'm going to be goddamn sore in a few hours," he admitted in a soft tone, not even trying to put on a brave front. Raylan had been vulnerable to him, now it was Tim's turn to be honest and admit to his weaknesses. "Won't be surprised if there's blood in my urine for a few days, and trying to take a deep breath is going to be an adventure in pain. I'm not dead so any myocardial contusion I'm suffering is mild, and my liver is probably just glad I can't abuse it with moonshine for a while."

His back, neck and limbs had taken a beating when the ocean had screwed him head first into the sand a couple of times but those aches fell under 'goddamn sore' and did not need to be reiterated.

"It's nothin' that won't heal, Raylan. Just a powerful reminder of my dumbassery. More worried about those cuts on your feet. We need to get those cleaned up."

Edited 2021-06-02 14:03 (UTC)

"Until they set in a headache or attach themselves to our legs." It wouldn't be pretty for anyone who wasn't used to it, but the Marshal's would get more than a little satisfaction from watching those two dumbasses run themselves screaming into a wall. Something to consider when spirits were low, anyway.

How, exactly, they'd gotten to Tim being against the wall, Raylan wasn't sure but it didn't matter. Tim was the one that needed the solid resting spot more and the idea that Raylan should just take up a spot next to them and break the configuration they'd settled into was killed before it rose.

"Nothin' that won't heal," Raylan scoffed as he forced his hands to unclench so he could peel off his soaked flannel and the tshirt underneath, dropping them with a sickening splat on the ground. "Soon as we get back to Phillips Drive, you're lettin' someone take a look at you. My feet'll be fine, but it won't matter if we catch our death or freeze. C'mon," he said, wiping his face and sliding a hand through his hair to settle it back on his head. "We can't get rid of our pants but we can ditch the shirts, leave one for you to settle back against."

Wet clothes could just as well be the death of them as anything else.

"We'd have to find some bug spray," Tim agreed in a dry tone. His lips were quirked upwards at the mental image Raylan painted of Dewey and Dickie tryin' to attach themselves to the Marshals' legs.

It was a good thing that the idea of moving much more than what was involved in getting out of wet clothing was snuffed. Tim would have argued. He'd insist it was because he was trying to look out for the older marshal, but the truth was more along the lines of the sniper not wanting to get that far away.

"So they can what? See all the pretty colors? Those won't be at their full glory until tomorrow. Your feet on the other hand could become infected," he groused as he used Raylan's striptease to slid out of his own jacket and shirts. After considering the sodden clothing, he reached for Raylan's t-shirt and folded it up for a backrest. It was probably the driest bit of fabric between them.

Stripped to the waist Tim re-octopused himself around Raylan, gathering the older man close up against the relative warmth of his naked skin. After a moment's thought, he reached up and freed one long strand of salt and pepper hair from where the older man had slicked it back, letting it fall into Raylan's face.

"Always do like it when these strands get the better of you," he said softly. "Makes you look all dangerously sexy."

"They'd just try to get high with it anyway," he scoffed. They all knew that both of those dimwits would be trying to huff whatever they could find in the General Store inside of two days, if that.

Raylan helped peel off Tim's shirts so he didn't have to stretch and pull that far, casting them off to the side too before he started rubbing a hand up Tim's arm as he glanced at the still raging storm outside. If it would just stop, he'd be hauling Tim to 1306 right now instead of explaining why that was the plan.

"So they can check and make sure you haven't broken any bones or got a punctured lung or ruptured spleen or internal bleeding.." His eyes drew upwards at the gentle flicking of his bangs back into his face and chuckled at the compliment, head ducking a fraction though he didn't break eye contact.

"I'm over here tryin' to worry about you, ya know," he teased. "Though if a little eyecandy makes you feel better," he granted with a bob of his head and a pull of his grin.

"Dewey Crowe and Dickie Bennett high as kites in Mathias," Tim mused on the thought and then smirked. "That is a sitcom I would pay to see."

The younger marshal made a pleased noise in response to the soft touch of Raylan's hand along his arm, shifting into the touches in a gesture that was almost needy. Actually there was no almost about it; it was needy.

"I am telling you, I have no broken bones, there is no blood coming out of my mouth so the lungs are bruised but intact and my abdomen is not distended," he smiled at his partner and reached to pull a few more strands of hair into Raylan's face. "I promise you, Handsome. I am going to ache for more than a few days, but I am alright."

Since they were down in the tunnels, alone, Tim took a liberty and pressed his lips against Raylan's temple. He left them there, so the older marshal could feel the smile against his chilly skin. "More than a few days I had to stay seated, with my lap under my desk for a bit, due to you presenting particularly enticing eyecandy."

Edited (try to avoid duplicating werds) 2021-06-04 01:47 (UTC)

"Mm, waste of your cable bill, in my opinion." Not that Raylan Givens had a cable bill to speak of himself. The rubbing was for warmth (and both their comfort) but the way Tim leaned it to made him smile as he leaned in himself, body on the edge of a shiver that was only held at bay by the scant bit of heat they were generating.

"Then you won't mind lettin' someone look at you so I can know that too, hmm? It'll take all of ten minutes and a few pokes and it'll make me feel better," he argued behind the growing current of his hair. He was going to need to get it cut soon or risk looking like the shaggy beach bum the he's always wanted to be, however sexy Tim found his wayward bangs.

Raylan hummed shortly anyway at the press of lips against him, head leaning into it little and chuckled, his hand moving to run over and around Tim's shoulder before settling for a minute on his upper arm. "Consider it penance for bein' a pain in your ass. Since mosta the time I came in, trouble was either waitin' or followin'."

He was sure the Lexington office wasn't nearly exciting without him there. It wasn't completely a compliment.

"I do mind," Tim pushed back, gently but firmly. "I have my hang-ups, and having relative strangers poking at me when I'm feeling poor is one of them." Yep he was a lot of fun for doctors! "You're just gonna have to content yourself with other expressions of my compliance."

Like the fact that Tim had come to the conclusion that if and when they could get out of this tunnel without Mathias trying to kill them, they were going to head to 1306. Raylan needed Malcolm and Doc. It was going to be awkward as fuck for the sniper but he knew the older marshal would also be a little easier if Tim stayed under the same roof. Tim figured he was tired enough that he could ride a couch in the same house as Raylan's other two lovers, for one night at least.

"Why am I serving penance for you being a pain in my ass?" Tim quipped in return, helping Raylan settle in against him. His back was cold but his chest and core were starting to feel warmer. Tim could also feel some of his muscles start to give up the shivering they'd been doing to keep warm, and relax.

Edited 2021-06-04 17:18 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject