"Just remember he's trying kill kids," Tim reminded Raylan for the third time in a very short drive.
"Y'know, I remember when you bitched about my lawman ways? But when you want it on your girl's behalf..."
"And her family's," he added indignantly. "Art doesn't want me there, and one of you is enough for any office. Just... Ride him a little rough. I shoot people on your say-so all the time. You say 'apricot' and I fire. I'm just asking you to ride this crooked guard as hard as the last one."
"The last one I hit with a car twice."
"And I thought it was very resourceful of you, since Art didn't want you to shoot anybody."
Raylan parked the Town car glaring at Tim. "The last time you used that tone of voice we were talking about Duffy's memory. You recall he remembered your name from that occasion?"
"I thought it was sweet of him."
Raylan continued glaring as he followed Tim into the safe house.
Rachel let them in with her finger to her lips and gestured them to follow her into the kitchen where Brian seemed to be helping his daughter with her homework. "They have been at this for hours," Brian said tiredly. "I get how the boys do it. I don't know how Clare does it."
Rachel and Izzie snickered, Izzie saying, "Have ya'll been in the living room yet?"
"Blanket forts?"
"Clare takes them very seriously," Rachel cautioned with another snicker.
Raylan trailed after Tim into the living room. The living room that had been transformed. One blanket stretched from the top of the bookcase down to an end table and the back of the sofa Tim had moved that morning. Another blanket stretched on the other end of the room from between two chairs and tented up to the wall with a pushpin. More blankets stretched with broom handles and books on shelves supporting them. The entire room looked like Bed, Bath & Beyond threw up on it.
Raylan risked a glance at Tim. Tim, who apparently had no idea how serious Clare really did take blanket forts. He tried not to gape but as soon as Raylan caught his eye they both broke out snickering.
"Shh," little Ethan said coming down the stairs behind them. "They'll hear you."
Gretchen was trailing after him, lips pressed together. She shook her head slightly and followed Ethan into one of the forts.
Clare and Evan followed them by about ten steps, "Those cheaters," Evan whispered, spying the quivering blankets.
Clare raised an eyebrow at Tim and Raylan's expression then glanced at his knuckles.
"Nice forts," Tim said.
"That what you get being careful?" she shot back.
Ethan apparently took her speaking as permission to run out and tackle Clare at speed. She didn't fall but swung him around, laughing, until he was upside-down. "Who you playin' with, boyo?" and tickled him to the ground.
Evan grinned and jumped at them, shouting maniacally, "Ha ha!"
Given that Clare wasn't very much taller than the boys, her swinging them around got smiles from the Marshals. "All right, we gotta borrow your cousin for a minute," Raylan said.
The boys rolled their eyes, Gretchen called them back to the fort, "C'mon, and let Clare talk to the marshals, babes. She'll be back in a few."
"Less than a few," Clare held up two fingers in scout's honor.
She followed them to meet Rachel at the door, putting her coat on. "Raylan and I have to talk to someone, Tim is not invited, so he'll be in the house with ya'll."
Raylan asked Clare, with his hand on the doorknob, "Have you mentioned anything about your suspicions of Graham to anyone?"
"No. Why?"
"Just curious," Raylan said with a look down the street.
Clare followed his glance and Tim pulled her back from the door. "You remember what we talked about?" Tim reiterated.
"Like I could forget."
"Be careful," Clare said to Rachel, who responded, "You, too."
Tim assumed point with the blanket fort assaults, earning the twins' eternal respect when he interrupted Clare's attack on Evan (they'd switched teams) by picking her up by her waist and tickling her to the ground. They piled on them until Tim held up his hands in a "T", gasping, "Ok, lunch? Have we had lunch yet?"
"Wimp," Clare gasped with Ethan still sprawled over her legs. "Hey, Gretchen? What time is it?"
Izzie stuck her head in, "It's around one. Mom says Deputy Gutterson needs to call for lunch if we don't want sandwiches." Her eyes went to Tim, "Pepperoni with pineapple. No Papa John's."
Tim saluted, "Anything else?"
"Breadsticks, but only Little Caesar's," Ethan added, sitting up.
Tim nodded, feeling for his cell before lying back on the floor, "Hey, Garcia... Family wants pizza, pepperoni and pineapple, and breadsticks from Little Caesar's... Yeah, ok." He hung up, "Half an hour."
Clare said, "Go clean up so we can eat when it gets here." The boys got up and raced up the stairs as Clare called, "Wash your hands!" before curling towards Tim.
He slipped an arm around her and said, "You want kids."
She glanced up at him, "Not right now."
He smiled, "But you want kids."
"Two. Later. Are we talking about this?"
He kissed her forehead, "Just trying to know what I'm in for."
"You don't want kids?"
In truth, he hadn't actually thought about it much. He hadn't particularly pondered his parenting skills either. He was a "port in the storm" man. Kids were up there with untreated venereal disease... Best avoided through liberal condom application.
But he did sign up for a normal life. He'd resigned the mad minute for a life with a bed and a paycheck in the world, not the third world. Waking up with Clare was nice. And he'd do it as long as he could...but kids?
Kids were messy and annoying if he remembered correctly. His sister didn't even have any. It had taken Raylan how long to knock up Winona? Sure, he like hanging out with Rachel's nephew, Nick. But he's more adolescent than *kid*.