Matt sits up, the sheet falls off his chest, and Tim moves forward a step. He's mad. He's mad and upset and jealous and hurt and a million other things he can hardly begin to identify right now. But the second Matt makes that noise of pain, Tim's moving forward to do something about it.
What, he's not sure. It's not like he's a nurse. But he puts a hand on Matt's shoulder where it's uninjured and bruise free and pushes firmly, but gently, urging him to lay back down.
But the second Matt's reclined again, Tim pulls his hand away. Though he doesn't move from the edge of the bed.
"Claire," he repeats quietly. It doesn't sound like a hooker's name, which is comforting. Then again, Matt doesn't seem like the type to hire a hooker. Looking the way he does, he wouldn't need to.
Looking the way he does, he probably wasn't having sex with someone else. Tim's gaze drops, looking over the faded scars, healing bruises, and fresh wounds. Matt looks like he just came out on the wrong end of a very bad bar fight, where he was out-numbered and weaponless. He decides he believes that Matt isn't sleeping with anyone else (he hardly seems like the type, anyway, and Tim knows that), but that doesn't mean there isn't anything going on.
"You just trust her more with your secrets than you trust me," Tim concludes, still looking at Matt's torso. "I've been real patient about whatever shit you've got goin' on that leaves you all beat up like this, but Jesus Christ, Matt. It's gettin' out of hand."
no subject
What, he's not sure. It's not like he's a nurse. But he puts a hand on Matt's shoulder where it's uninjured and bruise free and pushes firmly, but gently, urging him to lay back down.
But the second Matt's reclined again, Tim pulls his hand away. Though he doesn't move from the edge of the bed.
"Claire," he repeats quietly. It doesn't sound like a hooker's name, which is comforting. Then again, Matt doesn't seem like the type to hire a hooker. Looking the way he does, he wouldn't need to.
Looking the way he does, he probably wasn't having sex with someone else. Tim's gaze drops, looking over the faded scars, healing bruises, and fresh wounds. Matt looks like he just came out on the wrong end of a very bad bar fight, where he was out-numbered and weaponless. He decides he believes that Matt isn't sleeping with anyone else (he hardly seems like the type, anyway, and Tim knows that), but that doesn't mean there isn't anything going on.
"You just trust her more with your secrets than you trust me," Tim concludes, still looking at Matt's torso. "I've been real patient about whatever shit you've got goin' on that leaves you all beat up like this, but Jesus Christ, Matt. It's gettin' out of hand."