It's all so easy with Jeff. Tim wars with himself. He's got no right to downplay the fact that the awkward atmosphere isn't stifling but there's the genuine reaching out that's coaxing a (mildly... reasonable?, hysterical? nervous?) snort-turned-giggle. And his shoulders shake, because it's a little more long-lived than it should be. But who the hell says what Jeff's just said aloud? Tim scrubs his hands over his face. His heart's hammering, he feels like a prey animal.
Jeff's huddled in the opposite corner and Tim simultaneously feels the grounding of his palm coming back wet (gross-- he won't think about it, he won't think about it, he won't) and the... flutter of adoration.
Two prey animals.
He's comfortable.
All things considered.
God, it's so weird. He's so weird. He laughs, a little looser, a little more self-conscious. He... has no idea what to do with his legs. He tucks in his feet.
"That story... is a right of passage. I was, I think, fourteen?" He can't remember. His voice reveals as much. Tim drums his fingers over his thighs just eager for the outlet of that roll of anxiety. "My first girlfriend. She had invited me over and I was used to doing whatever, so I didn't think anything of it. She was all dressed up."
And he doesn't even feel bad about saying it. Did anybody know this story? But he's blushing, because of course he is. Jeff's gotten used to blue eyes peering at him from a red face, Tim figures. "But we were kids, and she didn't want to-- you know, it was more like she felt that she had to. We ended up just chilling out in the living room until her uncle came back from manning the shop. He kept screaming that he was going kill me. Got his gun and everything."
And fuck it, Tim thinks that's funny. He's still looking the part of an apologetic dope, but his voice is. Fine.
"I was breaking a new personal best in getting outta there. So I get back home and my dad's heard I was messing around in ways I shouldn't have been. He was pissed." But it's not like Tim to say the word: he mouths it, though, makes it pretty obvious he just doesn't give the curse any volume. He scrubs at his face a second time.
Fuck.
He has hang-ups about sex.
This isn't how valuable introspection is supposed to happen. He's smiling, wry. "I think that was the first time I was in enough hot water to have to scope out military schools."
no subject
Jeff's huddled in the opposite corner and Tim simultaneously feels the grounding of his palm coming back wet (gross-- he won't think about it, he won't think about it, he won't) and the... flutter of adoration.
Two prey animals.
He's comfortable.
All things considered.
God, it's so weird. He's so weird. He laughs, a little looser, a little more self-conscious. He... has no idea what to do with his legs. He tucks in his feet.
"That story... is a right of passage. I was, I think, fourteen?" He can't remember. His voice reveals as much. Tim drums his fingers over his thighs just eager for the outlet of that roll of anxiety. "My first girlfriend. She had invited me over and I was used to doing whatever, so I didn't think anything of it. She was all dressed up."
And he doesn't even feel bad about saying it. Did anybody know this story? But he's blushing, because of course he is. Jeff's gotten used to blue eyes peering at him from a red face, Tim figures. "But we were kids, and she didn't want to-- you know, it was more like she felt that she had to. We ended up just chilling out in the living room until her uncle came back from manning the shop. He kept screaming that he was going kill me. Got his gun and everything."
And fuck it, Tim thinks that's funny. He's still looking the part of an apologetic dope, but his voice is. Fine.
"I was breaking a new personal best in getting outta there. So I get back home and my dad's heard I was messing around in ways I shouldn't have been. He was pissed." But it's not like Tim to say the word: he mouths it, though, makes it pretty obvious he just doesn't give the curse any volume. He scrubs at his face a second time.
Fuck.
He has hang-ups about sex.
This isn't how valuable introspection is supposed to happen. He's smiling, wry. "I think that was the first time I was in enough hot water to have to scope out military schools."
Icebreaker?