"Sorry," Tim murmurs against Matt's neck, though he doesn't sound very sorry. "One track mind."

Tim's exhausted. He hasn't slept all night, running on fumes and coffee and sheer willpower. And the high of their argument, though that's long gone, too. Now they're okay, and Matt's okay, and Tim's well aware that he could use some sleep. But that doesn't mean he wants to. He'd rather stay up and keep an eye on Matt.

"I don't wanna rest," he says, and actually shifts to fish his phone out of his pocket. "I was supposed to call Claire when you woke up, anyway. She wants to come over and talk to you. Give you a stern talkin' to, I reckon."