Disclaimer: I don't own anything here (except for Al and TJ) and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.
On Friday night, Al drew the short straw and had to put Jack and Amber to bed. Tim had to laugh, since Jack had recently learned the delaying tactic of repeatedly saying he had to go to the bathroom. Could be true, could be a lie, but are you really going to chance it? And, of course, Amber's stories with their casts of hundreds and complicated plots were becoming legendary.
Tim got TJ and Cody to bed without any difficulties. He hit a bit of a speed bump with Nicky, whose first tooth was making him unusually fussy. Even so, Tim was surprised that Al was already on the couch before he was.
Tim sat down next to her and watched as she painstakingly tried to complete a cross-stitch project. He found it sort of funny that her hands, so skilled when it came to fixing car engines, could be so clumsy when it came to embroidery.
"Tell me again why you're doing that," he said, sliding up close to her and putting his chin on her shoulder.
"Because it's relaxing," she said through clenched teeth.
"Yeah, I can see that. You've never seemed more relaxed. Better than a vacation on the beach," he said, leaning forward slightly to get a better look down her shirt.
"Hey, you're in my light," she protested.
"Sorry," he murmured, pressing his lips against the soft skin of her neck.
He heard her let out a deep breath and could sense her smile. Encouraged, he put one hand on her knee and used the other to brush her curls aside to give him room to roam.
"Shit," she said, jumping suddenly.
"What's wrong?" he leaned back, concerned that he'd done something to hurt her.
"Oh nothing, you just sort of distracted me and I stabbed myself with the needle."
He smirked. "You know, I could kiss that and make it better for you."
"Kiss it and make it septic, more like," she said.
"You're right. Here, I'll kiss the other one instead, since it's the thought that counts, right? Which one was it?"
"Index."
He gently held her hand in both of his and brought it up to his mouth. He put a whisper-light kiss on the tip of her index finger, then slowly slid it into his mouth, his tongue tracing a pattern, soft lips hot on her skin. He kept his eyes locked on hers, enjoying the desire he saw developing there. When he heard her breath catch in her throat, he knew he had her. He slid her finger all the way into his mouth, then slowly pulled it out.
"There you go, should be all better now," he said in a soft, deep voice. "I guess you can go back to your sewing now."
Al gave him a wicked grin that made his knees go a little weak. "Like hell I can."
She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him in for an urgent, searching kiss. Her other hand was all light touches, moving across his body faster than he could keep track of. He growled low in his throat and grabbed her hips, pulling her up and around so she was straddling his lap. Her lips trailed kisses down his cheek and across his jawline. Soon, she was unbuttoning his shirt while kissing the newly exposed skin of his shoulders and chest.
"Do you hear that?" she asked, freezing in place.
"Hear what?" he asked, out of breath. The only thing he could hear was his blood pounding in his ears.
She pulled back and cocked her head to the side, listening. "It sounds like....." she trailed off as a puzzled expression settled onto her face. "Honestly, it sounds like a lawn mower."
"No. I don't hear it. Come back here," he said as he put a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Much to his disappointment, the kiss lasted less than five seconds before she was back to insisting that she could hear a lawn mower.
"Al, honey, you're killing me. You listen to the lawn mower. I've got stuff to do," he rumbled, leaning forward to run his tongue along her collarbone. He felt her relax as she ran her fingers through his hair, then went back to the fingertip touches that gave him the chills.
"I can't hear it anymore," she whispered, cupping his face in her hands and tilting his chin up so she could lean down and kiss him.
Tim thought he heard breaking glass, but decided he was just imagining things after the phantom lawn mower. He slipped his hands under her shirt and ran them up her back, feeling hard muscles under soft skin.
The sound of pounding on the door was unmistakable, as was the muffled shouting that followed it. Tim stood up quickly and held Al steady until her feet were on the floor.
"Stay here," he told her, backing away for a few steps before turning and moving swiftly to the door. As he got closer, the shouting began to take shape, solidifying into words and a distinct voice.
"Tim! Let me in! I need to see my kids."
Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly, running both hands through his hair. Then he stood up straight, buttoned his shirt and opened the door.
"Billy, you need to quiet down. They're sleeping. Everyone is sleeping." Tim pushed open the screen door and stepped out, closing the main door behind him. He took a step forward, which caused Billy to take two steps back, edging down the ramp that they'd had put in when they built the house.
"I need to see my kids," insisted Billy, his boots crunching on the broken glass of a beer bottle. In the dim light, Tim could see his motorcycle on the ground about 100 feet away.
"Not like this, Billy. You get cleaned up, sobered up and come over during the daytime. Then you can see them."
"Dammit, Tim. This is like kidnapping! I'm their father, not you."
"I know that," said Tim, keeping his voice calm but firm.
"Then who d'you think you are, keepin' them from me?" Billy's words were slurred, his eyes were fuzzy and his mouth had taken on a particularly mean set.
"I'm the guy you asked to take care of them if anything happened to you and Mindy."
"I'm not dead though."
"No, but you're not in any shape to care of them. So, until then, that's my job."
Billy looked down and nodded slowly. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. As Billy turned to leave, Tim let out a deep breath, relaxing,relieved that the situation seemed to have been defused.
Tim didn't see it coming: Billy turned back on him and tried to push past him like he was just a defensive end in the way of a super-star running back. Tim might not have seen it coming, but he had several pounds of muscle, a couple of inches of height and much better reflexes. Tim burst forward, driving his shoulder into Billy, gripping his arms, and half-pushing, half-carrying him down the ramp, their momentum sending them into Tim's truck, which was parked right in front of the house.
Tim pinned Billy up against the truck and took half a step back, still keeping him in place but giving them both some breathing room.
"You seeing them like this, it's not going to help them or you. You need to get your act together, Billy."
In the dim light, Tim watched the fight drain out of his brother's eyes as his face crumpled. Billy's head dropped, his forehead brushing Tim's shoulder, all choking sobs and heaving shoulders. Before Tim really understood what was happening, he found was holding and comforting his brother, for the first time in his life. Tim reckoned that the number of times they'd even hugged wouldn't reach the low double-digits, so it felt incredibly strange to have Billy clinging to him like a drowning man.
Tim waited for the worst of it to pass, then firmly squeezed Billy's shoulders , let go and took two steps back. He reached forward and opened the truck door.
"Get in the truck. I'll take you home."
"N-huh. No way. I can't go back there. It reminds me too much of Mindy."
Tim sighed and thought for a minute. "It's okay. I've got somewhere else you can stay. Just get in the truck. Please."
Billy got into the truck without further argument, sitting with his hands in his lap and his shoulders slumped, like a little kid in trouble. Tim closed the door so it didn't make a lot of noise, then headed back into the house.
He found Al in the kitchen, making sandwiches. A pot of coffee brewed on the counter. Tim leaned against the counter and watched her put the sandwiches into ziplock bags, which she then put into a brown paper bag. When the coffee was done, she poured into a thermos and dug a couple of travel mugs out of the cupboard.
"You ready?" she asked, leaning into his side. He slid an arm around her and pulled her close.
"No," he sighed, shaking his head. "Jesus, I've got no idea what to say to him."
"You'll be fine. He's your brother and you love him and the important thing here is that he's home. Just remember all of that."
Tim rubbed his hand over his face, then pushed himself away from the counter. "OK. Ready or not, here I go, I guess."
Tim went over to the back door and lifted his jeans jacket from the hook. He put it on and took the thermos and bag from Al.
"You have your phone?" she asked. He patted his pocket and nodded.
"OK, call me if you're going to be spending the night with him."
"Don't wait up," he said, kissing her forehead.
"I'm not going to, but you wake me up if you need to talk," she said, then hooked a finger through his belt loop and smiled up at him, "Or something."
"Count on it," he said and lightly kissed her lips and then left before he was distracted any more. Stepping out into the chilly night air, Tim shook his head to focus his mind. He was going to need every bit of concentration he could gather to get through the conversation he had to have with Billy.