Work Text:
The sun is setting agonizingly slow over the parking lot.
Two men walk out of their cars, bodies drowsy and weary. Jay was not being lighthearted when he said he was tired of driving, and neither was Tim. Every time they had finished location-hopping and searching every crook and nanny of each wood area they could think of, they barely had any energy to get back to work at the end of the day. They both seemed to agree that rest was more important than whatever eldritch horrors were haunting them at the moment, even if they barely got any. They didn’t trust their half-awake senses to make safe or rational decisions if something dire happens.
They barely made it back to their shared hotel room without passing out in the hallway. Both of them simultaneously threw themselves on the bed, responding with mutual and short-lived chuckles once they realized. Tim got up first and Jay had to stop himself from checking the imprint his body had made against the silk sheets.
“You mind if I shower first?” Tim was pointing at the bathroom door.
“No, go ahead.”
He gave Jay a microscopic, almost indecipherable smile as he nodded in response. Tim swiftly took a familiar set of makeshift sleepwear and ran off to the shower. Jay stayed in his bed.
He really doesn’t want to admit that things have been a massive blur recently. He doesn’t want to cause more worry and panic for Tim. Not right now. He distracts himself, looking out the aged, vintage-looking window. The sunset is melting through, painting their room an almost dreamy shade of lilac. Jay has always liked sunsets, even if he’s gotten bad with words and can’t really explain why. He supposes it’s the sense of calm it brings. Blue is a calming color. So is violet.
Soon enough, the colors douse a fresh-out-the-shower Tim. His hair is still damp and it sticks to his face and neck, despite it being obviously blow-dried. Jay can feel himself sink against the mattress and he looks away in a flash. He hates being caught staring.
What he hates even more is how Tim lays down next to him so nonchalantly. The word “hate” is a lie, though, because Jay loves it. Adores it, even — but he can’t. He can’t afford to be this selfish. His heart sinks, the feeling leaving his throat dry and his stomach tight. The tightness loosens when he (un)intentionally takes a whiff of Tim. He blames it on the proximity. What else could he blame it on, really?
Beneath a layer of tobacco and car leather smell, he notices the faintest trace of lavender. Jay is perplexed — since when did Tim like lavender? Did he just catch the scent from somewhere? Is it body wash? Is he losing it again?
The deafening silence starts getting to him and Jay, the curious cat, breaks it at once.
“Is that…lavender?”
Tim’s eyes dart to the source, his gaze visibly softening after taking in the question.
“Yeah. My therapist recommended lavender pouches to me for my insomnia a few years back and, believe it or not, it works pretty well usually. I normally keep them in my pillows.”
Jay hummed. He wasn’t exactly sure how to react to that.
“Actually…” Tim trailed off, sitting up. “I just bought a pouch recently. You want one?”
Jay gulps. His brain is blaring no, you can’t take any more from him. He listens to it and lays still for a while, yet against his better judgment —
“… Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t. And I think you need it anyway,” He chuckled roughly in the middle. He reaches out for his nightstand, handing Jay the tiny silk pouch.
Jay isn’t really aware when he almost instantly puts the pouch next to his cheek, taking in the scent. He’s not aware that he’s smiling in relief, either. And he really wishes he wasn’t aware when he opens his eyes and finds Tim staring back at him, eyes soft and mouth grinning so fondly. Jay can only manage to let out a weak and bewildered giggle.
“What’s up?”
“Oh, nothin’.”
Jay turns to lay on his back and notices Tim's smile hasn’t left his face. He’s gazing at the ceiling as if he could stare holes through the thin, pale polyester. Maybe he is doing just that.
When Jay opens his eyes, the pouch is absent. He takes a peek around, trying to work out his surroundings, lavender fumes swirling in his brain still. He notices this isn’t their hotel room anymore. At least not the one he remembers. The walls are blurry and his pillow feels like a tenderly streaming river. Luminescent fuzzy dots of periwinkle travel across the ceiling. They bump into each other clumsily, carelessly. Jay tries not to panic.
This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for him. In fact, he didn’t miss this at all. He loathes the way his mind blares static and his stomach ties burning, agonizing knots. Jay tries to not show it. He’s tried fighting it before, to no avail. He can’t possibly bring more trouble, he can’t keep bothering Tim like this.
He feels pressure on his chapped lips. Jay blinks painfully slow, pretending his eyes don’t feel like they were lit on fire. The situation doesn’t quite sink in until he feels Tim’s lips on his. He freezes.
Tim’s lips are soft. They’re unbearably soft and tender against his own. Jay wonders, ponders — How did something so ruthless create someone so awfully gentle?
Jay can’t bring himself to move. He doesn’t want to. He’s forcing himself not to move. There’s a flash of blissful euphoria running through him, and he feels cathartic like never before. He can even afford to ignore how he can’t seem to feel his legs.
Unfortunately for Jay, he snaps back into whatever reality he was in before when he feels Tim’s hands on his shoulders. He can feel the vice grip he has on his body and see his brooding eyes staring him down. Jay only starts paying attention when he hears his name called way too many times later.
“Jay! You there?”
Jay forgets how to talk for a millisecond. When he finally opens his mouth to speak, he winces at the flame inside his throat. He nods instead.
“You look like hell, Jay. You want some water?”
Another nod.
“Alright, just wait here. Don’t run off anywhere.”
Jay watches him practically fling himself off their bed. When he looks around, the sun has already set and the room is doused in azure darkness. He’s still trying to wrap his brain around everything, especially whether Tim’s moves on him were real. Silently, he pretends they were.
Jay’s body flinches when he feels Tim’s cold, freezing hand on his forehead.
“God, you’re burning up. How’re you feeling?”
Jay wolfs the bottle down like he’s stranded on a distant desert (who can say he isn’t) and answers Tim shortly.
“I’m not sure. My head feels like it’s gonna explode any minute, but…” He trails off, softly throwing his head back on the bed. Tim is still sitting.
“I can’t believe I forgot to buy painkillers for something like this,” Tim groans, pinching his forehead. “I’m sorry, do you think you’ll be able to walk around with me tomorrow?”
“I think so, yeah. I’ve been through worse before.”
“That’s not the problem, Jay. I need you safe, sick or not. I’m not risking anything.”
Jay bites his lip.
“I don’t want to worry you.”
“You’ll worry me more if you keep hurting yourself like this.”
They’re gazing at each other with knowing eyes. The outside background noise is louder than before, and the awareness of it all makes Jay flinch again.
“Alright, I’ll stay behind tomorrow. I’m expecting you to not run away from me, though. Can you at least promise me that?”
Relieved, Tim slowly lays back to his own side aof the bed with a chuckle. “Where would I run off to, exactly? You’re my only real option here if I don’t wanna be caught dead in some ditch.”
Jay snorts. “Stop making good points.”
“At least you agree I’m right.”
A familiar warmth of laughter paints the room again. Jay sighs the weight off his chest.
Silently, he hopes they can stay like this.