Don't Worry About It
Title: Don't Worry About It chp. 1
Author: verdrehtgeist
Rating: T
Pairing: Raylan/Tim
Notes: A bank robbery goes south, and Raylan and Tim are stuck in the middle of it. With Tim injured and a wall of concrete and debris standing between them and help, Raylan's got to figure out how to get them and everyone else out of there before it's too late.
Warnings: blood, violence
There weren’t a lot of things in this world that Raylan Givens had to worry about, not much that he feared. He wasn’t fearless - “fearless” was just another word for “cocky,” and that was just another way of saying “not long for this world” - but after seeing all the things he’d seen, it just took a little more than heights and spiders to get his nerves firing. Hell, up until recently, the only real things he made an effort to steer clear of were politicians, paperwork, and smart, outspoken women.
The latter, for obvious reasons.
Last couple of months, though, Raylan had started to notice sweat beading and hairs standing that had nothing to do with any of them. Seemed there was something else in Kentucky getting his juices flowing, and in more ways than one.
Now, Raylan liked to think he knew himself pretty well. He knew what he liked, knew what he didn’t, and as such, it didn’t take him terribly long to figure just what it was had him on edge.
Especially since he spent eight hours a day, plus overtime with the guy. Frankly, he reckoned the only reason it had taken him as long as it did was that, well, looking at him now, he wasn’t much to be afraid of.
Tim Gutterson sat at his desk, just a little ways away from Raylan’s in the bull pen. At first glance, it looked like he was probably doing some sort of research. He had those concentration lines on his brow where his brows pulled in and his lips pursed just a little bit in a way that fell somewhere between the lines of sexy and adorable. He looked…intent.
Only, Raylan knew there wasn’t a damn case to be had - trust him, he’d checked - and if he’d had to bet money, he’d have placed a substantial wad on there being a solitaire game pulled up on that computer screen.
It was shit like that had him fooled at first. Or maybe not fooled, just…stuck with half the story. He’d thought Tim was just some fresh-out-of-the-military greenhorn, good in support but not particularly outstanding. Not that there was anything wrong with that; Tim was young, and he still had a few years to go before Raylan expected him to be all he could be.
The first couple of weeks hadn’t really done much to prove him wrong, either. Sure, Tim made a good save once or twice, especially with that Cooper/Dupree situation, but that wasn’t enough to put him on Raylan’s radar. Raylan knew plenty of fellas that were, if not as good as Tim, at least sidling up to his league.
Or so he’d thought.
He’d first started to notice it ‘round that hostage situation. Oh, everyone had been quick to react, but Tim…damn, he’d never seen a fella move that fast. That draw he’d pulled had nearly been enough to put Raylan to shame, and in all his years teaching at Glencoe, he’d never seen a steadier hand in a high-tension situation.
He’d also never seen someone find chicken that fast past closing hours in Lexington, Kentucky.
But more to the point, that was the first time it had occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Tim than met the eye. He thought at first it was the soldier showing, but that wasn’t quite it. It was deeper than that…keener than that. For the most part, Tim was just…Tim. He was like a kid, all dry humor and weird comments that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. But then there were times when he’d see something…the flash of something in those blue eyes of his, and it was almost like he was seeing a totally different person. Someone that didn’t so much as flinch when there was a gun pointed at him…someone that didn’t sweat a bead before he took out a mark at six hundred meters through a window, a coat rack, and a barstool.
It was enough to make any man nervous.
There was more to Tim than that, though. He wasn’t just the child-like background officer; he wasn’t just a cold-blooded precision killer.
He came through for people. At the VFW, when he had no business being there, he’d kicked his night off to get them in. More than that, and what really got Raylan’s attention, was how close he’d been to decking Arlo when the old bastard slapped him. There was no sense denying the knot in his chest when Art had to hold him back.
‘Course, that knot had been there since Tim had swaggered in in that tank top that hadn’t left much in the way of Tim’s muscles to Raylan’s admittedly very interested imagination.
Tim was the whole package, then. He was quirky, but devilishly funny in his own kind. He was a terror behind any sort of firearm; a reaper behind a sniper. And he was damn loyal.
He scared the shit out of Raylan.
More than that, Raylan scared the shit out of Raylan. Around Tim…there was always this voice in the back of his head, this urge. A guy like Raylan…he’d stopped deluding himself into thinking he could be happy with picket fence, peaches and cream normal. The reason he got on so well with Tim was that he knew there was nothing about himself that he had to be ashamed of. He was a killer, well so was Tim. He’d made mistakes, so had Tim. He knew he was no White Knight, and Tim was okay with that.
He knew it couldn’t lead to anything good, but there was this niggling voice in the back of his head that argued that maybe, just maybe, it would.
And that…that gave Raylan something to worry about.
Author: verdrehtgeist
Rating: T
Pairing: Raylan/Tim
Notes: A bank robbery goes south, and Raylan and Tim are stuck in the middle of it. With Tim injured and a wall of concrete and debris standing between them and help, Raylan's got to figure out how to get them and everyone else out of there before it's too late.
Warnings: blood, violence
There weren’t a lot of things in this world that Raylan Givens had to worry about, not much that he feared. He wasn’t fearless - “fearless” was just another word for “cocky,” and that was just another way of saying “not long for this world” - but after seeing all the things he’d seen, it just took a little more than heights and spiders to get his nerves firing. Hell, up until recently, the only real things he made an effort to steer clear of were politicians, paperwork, and smart, outspoken women.
The latter, for obvious reasons.
Last couple of months, though, Raylan had started to notice sweat beading and hairs standing that had nothing to do with any of them. Seemed there was something else in Kentucky getting his juices flowing, and in more ways than one.
Now, Raylan liked to think he knew himself pretty well. He knew what he liked, knew what he didn’t, and as such, it didn’t take him terribly long to figure just what it was had him on edge.
Especially since he spent eight hours a day, plus overtime with the guy. Frankly, he reckoned the only reason it had taken him as long as it did was that, well, looking at him now, he wasn’t much to be afraid of.
Tim Gutterson sat at his desk, just a little ways away from Raylan’s in the bull pen. At first glance, it looked like he was probably doing some sort of research. He had those concentration lines on his brow where his brows pulled in and his lips pursed just a little bit in a way that fell somewhere between the lines of sexy and adorable. He looked…intent.
Only, Raylan knew there wasn’t a damn case to be had - trust him, he’d checked - and if he’d had to bet money, he’d have placed a substantial wad on there being a solitaire game pulled up on that computer screen.
It was shit like that had him fooled at first. Or maybe not fooled, just…stuck with half the story. He’d thought Tim was just some fresh-out-of-the-military greenhorn, good in support but not particularly outstanding. Not that there was anything wrong with that; Tim was young, and he still had a few years to go before Raylan expected him to be all he could be.
The first couple of weeks hadn’t really done much to prove him wrong, either. Sure, Tim made a good save once or twice, especially with that Cooper/Dupree situation, but that wasn’t enough to put him on Raylan’s radar. Raylan knew plenty of fellas that were, if not as good as Tim, at least sidling up to his league.
Or so he’d thought.
He’d first started to notice it ‘round that hostage situation. Oh, everyone had been quick to react, but Tim…damn, he’d never seen a fella move that fast. That draw he’d pulled had nearly been enough to put Raylan to shame, and in all his years teaching at Glencoe, he’d never seen a steadier hand in a high-tension situation.
He’d also never seen someone find chicken that fast past closing hours in Lexington, Kentucky.
But more to the point, that was the first time it had occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Tim than met the eye. He thought at first it was the soldier showing, but that wasn’t quite it. It was deeper than that…keener than that. For the most part, Tim was just…Tim. He was like a kid, all dry humor and weird comments that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. But then there were times when he’d see something…the flash of something in those blue eyes of his, and it was almost like he was seeing a totally different person. Someone that didn’t so much as flinch when there was a gun pointed at him…someone that didn’t sweat a bead before he took out a mark at six hundred meters through a window, a coat rack, and a barstool.
It was enough to make any man nervous.
There was more to Tim than that, though. He wasn’t just the child-like background officer; he wasn’t just a cold-blooded precision killer.
He came through for people. At the VFW, when he had no business being there, he’d kicked his night off to get them in. More than that, and what really got Raylan’s attention, was how close he’d been to decking Arlo when the old bastard slapped him. There was no sense denying the knot in his chest when Art had to hold him back.
‘Course, that knot had been there since Tim had swaggered in in that tank top that hadn’t left much in the way of Tim’s muscles to Raylan’s admittedly very interested imagination.
Tim was the whole package, then. He was quirky, but devilishly funny in his own kind. He was a terror behind any sort of firearm; a reaper behind a sniper. And he was damn loyal.
He scared the shit out of Raylan.
More than that, Raylan scared the shit out of Raylan. Around Tim…there was always this voice in the back of his head, this urge. A guy like Raylan…he’d stopped deluding himself into thinking he could be happy with picket fence, peaches and cream normal. The reason he got on so well with Tim was that he knew there was nothing about himself that he had to be ashamed of. He was a killer, well so was Tim. He’d made mistakes, so had Tim. He knew he was no White Knight, and Tim was okay with that.
He knew it couldn’t lead to anything good, but there was this niggling voice in the back of his head that argued that maybe, just maybe, it would.
And that…that gave Raylan something to worry about.