Disclaimer: I don't own anything here (except for Al) and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.
Tim unlocked door and pushed it open, walking in before Al. She followed him in and was barely through the doorway when he caught her in one arm while shutting the door with the other. Then he pinned her against the wall and put the last several hours of longing into his kiss.
He could hear George whimpering in his crate in the kitchen, but it was a distant hum. Except that he knew if he could hear it, Al could hear it and that she was going to want to do something about it. The knowledge pulled him out of the moment and made him pull back from her with a groan.
"I know...I have to let the dogs out," he said, bending at the knee so he could lift her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. He kissed her as he walked, happy that the living room didn't have much furniture to trip over. He put her down on the couch.
"Don't go anywhere."
She looked up at him in a way that nearly made him forget about the dogs. "Where could I possibly want to go?"
He left her with one lingering kiss and then walked swiftly to the kitchen, where he let George out of the crate and slid open the back door so both dogs could run around the fenced-in back yard. Returning to the living room, he sat down on the edge of the couch, looking down at Al.
They hadn't bothered to turn on any lights, but the dim streetlight filtering in through the windows was enough. He paused for a minute, enjoying both the way she looked in the dress and the way she was looking at him.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked, as she grabbed a handful of shirt, then pulled him down and kissed him with an intensity that made his heart race.
The dress felt good under his hands, soft and smooth, but her skin felt even better. She was unbuttoning the buttons of his shirt and he was just about to go for the zipper on her dress when the doorbell rang.
"You expecting anyone?" he whispered.
She shook her head.
"Me neither," he said and returned to what he'd been doing.
The doorbell was insistent and shrill. Soon, Bruno raced into the living room, barking, with George right behind him. Tim groaned and rested his forehead on Al's shoulder, then stood up reluctantly.
He turned on the porch light and then pulled open the door to find Walt standing there, blinking in the sudden light. Al whistled the dogs away from the door as she sat up, adjusting her dress and pushing her stray curls back behind her ears.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Timmy, please. Can I just come in for two minutes? I need to talk to you." Walt looked pale and drawn. His shoulders were hunched and his hands were stuffed in his pockets.
Tim looked back at Al and sighed.
"Two minutes and then I'll leave you alone. I promise. Please?"
Tim stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him. "Two minutes. What do you want?"
"Timmy, you know I hate asking you for anything and I know I screwed up last time, but I need help."
Tim folded his arms and stared at his father, but didn't say anything.
"Billy was right – I can't golf like I used to and my gal, well, once the money dried up, she threw me out. I got no place to stay."
"You're not staying here."
"I know that, I don't expect that at all. I was hoping maybe you could talk to Billy, get me a job at the garage. I can still fix cars, you know I taught you a lot."
Tim closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he had some kind of superpower that could make people he didn't want to see disappear.
Truth was, most of the stuff Walt had taught him had nothing to do with cars and nothing to do with the kind of person Tim wanted to be. And Billy, there was no way Billy was ever going to go for this.
Tim shook his head. "No. And you need to leave."
He felt Walt's hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off and stepped away. "Seriously, you need to leave. I don't wanna see you again."
He folded his arms and glared at Walt, watching as the man turned slowly and started to walk back to his truck. He paused, about halfway there and turned around to look back at Tim. Walt looked like he might say something, but instead he just shook his head and kept walking.
Tim watched until his father had driven away, then he went back into the house. Al had turned on one of the lamps and was sitting on the couch. She looked up at him anxiously, but said nothing. He sat down next to her, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and hide his face in his hands. He felt her hand on his back, a soft, gently pressure rubbing his tense muscles.
"You want to talk about it?"
He dropped his hands from his face and turned to look back at her. He shook his head.
"Nothing to talk about, really. He's gone. Again. I hope for good because I don't know what else to do to get rid of him."
"C'mere," she said, motioning for him to lie down and use her lap as a pillow.
He stretched out on the couch and turned on his side, his cheek pressing into soft velvet of her. She ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. Exhaustion flooded through him. He thought that he should say something about going up to bed, but he couldn't seem to make his mouth form the words. He stopped trying to fight the weight of his eyelids and drifted off to sleep.