'Shine handed over Tim settled back on one foot as he drank from his own glass and studied the older man. To the sniper's eyes, Raylan looked like shit. It was discreet, the cowboy had a face that carried worry well. But, knowing him for four years, learning to read expression, the younger marshal felt he had a good handle on reading the signs that Raylan wasn't comfortable in his own skin.
It was all together likely that none of them were comfortable in their own skin and hadn't been for the past three days at least. A lot could be laid at the door of the interpersonal upheaval they'd gone through, but running just beneath that was the steady thread of all the shit Mathias had thrown at them; put them through. Raylan had been taking it square on the chin for weeks now and while the cowboy had a strong jaw, no man was indestructible.
Memories of that morning, of the hard questions Doc had put to him and of his own words, echoed in Tim's head.
"I love him,"[...] "I want him to feel loved, to finally know that there are people who do love him, unconditionally."
And at the end of the conversation. When he'd found words he'd been reaching for earlier and shared them with Doc. The explanation of how many times he'd watched Raylan get his heart broke when people left him. That here was Doc talking about what Tim wanted, expected and Tim explaining that he expected to get his heart broken. That it would happen, but only if and when Raylan felt he had (or wanted) to make a choice. That it might leave Tim laid out bare, raw and broken but he wasn't going to leave the older man, even to protect himself.
As they stood there Tim considered what it meant to be on borrowed time. Whether because of interpersonal choices, or Mathias' bullshit. This pussy footing around on eggshells might have had a place in a safer environment but life wasn't safe. Tossing down the rest of his 'shine in one long gulp the younger marshal decided that the stilted, awkward conversation they were trying to have here wasn't doing either of them any good. Just more dancing over phone lines. He turned and set the glass down then turned back and walked straight into his partner.
If Raylan really objected to what came next, Tim trusted that he'd end up across the floor on his ass, and so there was no tentative approach to his actions. He reached up with one hand, grabbing Raylan back the back of his head and pulling him those few inches closer until he could drive their mouths together with heated intensity. His other arm wrapped like iron around the cowboy's lower back and Tim began to push Raylan towards the nearest wall.
no subject
It was all together likely that none of them were comfortable in their own skin and hadn't been for the past three days at least. A lot could be laid at the door of the interpersonal upheaval they'd gone through, but running just beneath that was the steady thread of all the shit Mathias had thrown at them; put them through. Raylan had been taking it square on the chin for weeks now and while the cowboy had a strong jaw, no man was indestructible.
Memories of that morning, of the hard questions Doc had put to him and of his own words, echoed in Tim's head.
"I love him,"[...] "I want him to feel loved, to finally know that there are people who do love him, unconditionally."
And at the end of the conversation. When he'd found words he'd been reaching for earlier and shared them with Doc. The explanation of how many times he'd watched Raylan get his heart broke when people left him. That here was Doc talking about what Tim wanted, expected and Tim explaining that he expected to get his heart broken. That it would happen, but only if and when Raylan felt he had (or wanted) to make a choice. That it might leave Tim laid out bare, raw and broken but he wasn't going to leave the older man, even to protect himself.
As they stood there Tim considered what it meant to be on borrowed time. Whether because of interpersonal choices, or Mathias' bullshit. This pussy footing around on eggshells might have had a place in a safer environment but life wasn't safe. Tossing down the rest of his 'shine in one long gulp the younger marshal decided that the stilted, awkward conversation they were trying to have here wasn't doing either of them any good. Just more dancing over phone lines. He turned and set the glass down then turned back and walked straight into his partner.
If Raylan really objected to what came next, Tim trusted that he'd end up across the floor on his ass, and so there was no tentative approach to his actions. He reached up with one hand, grabbing Raylan back the back of his head and pulling him those few inches closer until he could drive their mouths together with heated intensity. His other arm wrapped like iron around the cowboy's lower back and Tim began to push Raylan towards the nearest wall.