Tim Gutterson had survived his childhood, Basic, sniper training, two Middle Eastern tours, and Glynko by being aware of what was going on around him. Even in sleep.

He didn't hear the hallway door open, hearing in this case was redundant. He felt it to the depths of his soul. Someone was in the apartment. Moving around.

Tim's Glock was in his hand, and he was on his feet and moving silently to his bedroom door, Glock and torch at the ready.

Raylan's bedroom door was open, but Tim had left it open, the threat was already inside.

Tim moved at attack speed.

He was through the doorway, and shining the torch in the uninvited visitor's eyes. "Stop right there." He growled.

Then blinked. "What the…" Moved up to the bedside to switch on Raylan's bedside light.

"Boyd?"

Raylan's coal-mining, criminal chum was slowly lowering his hands. "Deputy Gutterson, I am sure I didn't mean to disturb you in this time of…"

Unwilling to listen to one of Boyd's lengthy speeches, Tim cut him off "Don't you people ever knock?" he snarled irritably, "it's one in the morning, couldn't this, whatever it is," he favoured Boyd with a steely glare, "have waited until a normal hour?"

"No, Deputy Gutterson, I don't believe it could." Said Boyd. Cool as you please he bent down and kissed Raylan full on the mouth.

A tiny, fanciful corner of Tim's brain was wondering if Raylan would wake up. And if he did, if he was Boyd's true love would he come back as a vampire.

The rational part of Tim's brain was feeling pissed. His trigger finger was feeling itchy. He wondered for a moment if Raylan was rubbing off on him. The thing he wanted to do above anything else was shoot Boyd Crowder.

Then maybe he could get a little sleep.

There was a knock at the door, interrupting Tim's sleep deprived musings. Having accepted that Boyd was here to kiss Raylan, as weird and unsettling as that was, the smooth talking criminal kingpin obviously didn't actually mean Raylan any harm right now. Tim went to answer the door.

He knew before his hand was even on the doorknob who was on the other side.

"Ava."

He stepped aside, allowing her passage into his apartment.

"Deputy."

He yawned hard, and waved a hand towards Raylan's room. "Come one, come all," he said sarcastically.

She declined to answer, but stalked past him and into Raylan's room. Threw an annoyed look at Boyd and pushed past him to lean over and plant a firm kiss on Raylan's lips.

The punch-drunk, sleep-deprived part of Tim's psyche took fairly childish delight in Raylan's complete lack of response to either of them. The whole true love's kiss thing was just hokum, but on the vaguest outside chance that it was true, apparently Raylan didn't belong to either of them.

Good to know.

"As nice as this has been, do you think you could both leave now?" Tim made a shooshing motion with his hand. He was tired. This crazy shit was not very helpful.

"Deputy, thank you for your hospitality." Boyd's slow Kentucky drawl flowed over Tim like a wave.

And for not shooting you, I can see why Raylan did. Tim nodded. "Next time, knock, as much as I would love to arrest you for something, I will let it slide this once."

Ava said nothing, offered a tight little smile, and the glare that she flashed at her boyfriend suggested that Boyd was going to have a difficult time of it after they were out of the house.

Tim didn't care. Just as long as they were gone.

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He shut the door behind them, and went to check on Raylan. The cowboy was still asleep, on his back, arms resting by his sides, on top of the covers. Quiet and still and all sorts of things that Raylan Givens was never supposed to be.

It was too early, Raylan's drip bag was still more than half full, and the bag dealing with the other matter didn't need changing either. Tim yawned and stretched. God he was so tired.

Raylan was in a double bed, there was plenty of space, and suddenly Tim really didn't want to walk the few feet to his room. And it wasn't as though Raylan wasn't fast asleep. He reached over, turned the light out, and crawled under the covers.

[][][][][][][][]

Nelson Dunlop was having the worst ten minutes of his life so far. Even worse than the time that Raylan took Hunter Moseley for a scenic tour of Kentucky after Raylan's father had been shived in prison.

Chief Deputy Art Mullen was not a patient man. Their witness was still missing. Raylan was still asleep. And the AUSA David Vasquez wanted answers.

They were falling back on snitches. Specifically Arnold Pinter. Nelson thought Pinter was nuts. And he was Raylan's snitch. Which was the way that Nelson preferred it.

Then there was the crazy bottle of Maker's Mark. Raylan's fingerprints. The witness's fingerprints underneath Raylan's. Meaning that the witness had poisoned Raylan.

The whole office was spooked.

Nelson hunkered down over his phone, wished fervently that he had some other place he had to be, and dialed Pinter's number. Hoping that this time he was going to get lucky.

[][][][][][][][]

Tim woke to a heavy weight pressing his right side into the mattress, something warm pressed up against him. Puzzled, he opened his eyes.

Raylan.

The cowboy was turned on his side, huddled up against Tim, head resting on Tim's shoulder, arm resting on his waist. Tim's arms closed around Raylan, holding tight, an unexpected surge of emotion messing with his mind.

Dammit. He had put those feelings away before Basic, and stepped resolutely on them ever since. He did not have the luxury of that. And until Raylan Givens it had never been a problem.

Then two years ago, a tall, dark, handsome cowboy had walked through the Marshals' Office door, Tim's eyes had tracked this vision across the bullpen floor and that had pretty much been that.

Since then Tim had discovered that Raylan Givens was a sexy, magnetic, badass asshole who attracted trouble wherever he went. The cool, rational, military, ordered part of Tim's brain said that even acquaintance with this man was unwise. The adventure-seeking, passionate, romantic side of Tim's nature was egging him on to get closer.

Raylan was a magnet and Tim was attracted.

Just being around the guy was exciting.

Now he was lying, half on top of Tim, crushed up against him like he was seeking comfort. Tim stroked a hand down Raylan's back gently. Raylan actually cuddled closer.

There seemed to be a time lag between Tim's brain and Tim's eyes, the significance of movement almost passed him by.

"Ray…" Tim patted his cheek. "Ray come on. Please." He moved to sit up then, and Raylan made this desperate little noise in the back of his throat. For a tenth of a second, Tim could swear that his heart stopped.

He put his hand gently on Raylan's cheek, hoping to coax him to wakefulness, but nothing happened.

Tim bent his head and fought the tears.