Disclaimer: Sutter owns all recognisable people, places, and things. I'm just playing in the sandbox.
His visits are never announced; but Tara has come to expect them. More often than not he'll show up just after she's gotten the boys ready for bed. The first time she worried he was going to rile them up and she'd never get them calmed and asleep. But one look at his face and she knew he wasn't there to be fun Uncle Tig. He needed the calming comfort that only sleepy children could offer. Tara just nodded as she passed him in the hall; she knew she could leave the boys with him long enough to take a relaxing bath. Just what the doctor ordered. She heard the deep rumble of his voice as he read Abel a bedtime story, she couldn't make out what story but it didn't really matter. Then his heavy-booted footfalls as he moved across to Thomas' room. When she finally emerged from the bath, several long minutes later she didn't hear anything. She wondered, briefly if he'd left without saying anything. That didn't seem like him so she moved to investigate. A quick check on Abel showed he was down for the count. Then she heard it. It wasn't the low rumble of Tig telling a bedtime story. Tara stopped in her tracks just out of sight of the door to Thomas' room. Tig was half humming/half singing to her son. It took her a moment to realise she knew the song, and then she had to stifle a laugh. She moved off to the kitchen when she heard Tig stand to put Thomas in his crib. Some nights he stayed, on the couch, under the guise of 'Pres.'s orders'. But more often he'd leave shortly after making sure everything was ok. Tonight he seemed indecisive. Tara made the decision for him.
"Go crash in the living room. I'll get you a beer and heat something up to eat." He looked like he was going to protest so she got him a beer and all but pushed him into the other room. Once there was a pan of leftover beef stew heating on the stovetop Tara got herself a glass of wine and made her way into the living room. She means to curl up on the couch and maybe watch some trashy TV while waiting for the stew to heat but upon entering the room she sees Tig standing, uncomfortably, near a shelving unit looking at pictures, or books or whatever happens to be on the shelves. And that just won't do. She walks up behind him, not trying to mask her steps; not like it would matter. He's too aware of his surroundings, years of having to watch his own back she guesses, to scare. "Come sit with me for a little bit, Tig. Relax, please." She watches his shoulders move up and down with a heavy, weary sigh; then he comes to a decision. He defers to her request to 'relax' by taking off his kutte, and rather unceremoniously flopping onto the opposite end of the sofa from where she is. Neither says anything for a long moment; but it's not awkward like she feared it could be. It's an extension of Tig reading to Abel, or singing Thomas to sleep; and that reminds her. "You know my parents almost named me Tuesday; because of that song." Tig scoffs, embarrassed that she heard him, but the embarrassment slides away quickly; there's no room for it here. He shoots her a soft smile and speaks for the first time since he entered the house.
"Thank you, Tara. I just… Thank you." She can tell he wants to say more; but honestly she doesn't need to hear it.
"Hey, it's nothing. Anytime you need to get away from that shit; feel free to come hang out with the boys." The 'keep me company, give me another adult who's not a doctor to talk to' is unspoken, but from the searching gaze he lands on her, it's not unheard. She shifts then, getting up to check the stew, and offers him an easy smile in return.
