Matt's hand finds his face, and Tim reflexively tips his head towards it, pressing his cheek against Matt's warm palm. He realizes suddenly that he's not as cold as he was before, too distracted by the conversation to realize that between the dry clothes and the blanket and the tea and Matt's hands, the chill has left his bones. He's warm and his heartbeat is slowing down to something more reasonable, something relieved, and he's happy.

Maybe this will crash and burn, just like Matt said. Maybe one or the both of them will manage to destroy it, but Tim plans on holding onto it for as long as he can.

He laughs a little bit too, soft and breathless and just a touch drunk. Matt didn't break things off, didn't shut Tim down, and it's not even awkward now. He'd walked in the door with only the tiniest sliver of hope and now it's actually happening somehow. He leans forward a little bit more until his forehead rests against Matt's, closing his eyes.

"That's what I want it to mean," he says quietly, and all he wants to do is tip his head just so and kiss Matt on the mouth, but he refrains, waiting for Matt's response.