Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For the time being, Jay was Tim's personal chauffeur. Tim's car took a shit on itself and was currently in the shop ( god knows how much that's gonna cost) so for the next week if Tim had somewhere to be, Jay offered to drive him. That was what led to him parked outside of his workplace on his day off. Tim had a meeting with his director for the opportunity of independently composing the soundtrack for the studio's recent feature film.

Jay was ecstatic for Tim, knowing this could be the big break his roommate needed for his music career. ( He was also excited for the prospect of being able to see Tim throughout his workday, but that was besides the point.)

Jay was parked outside for roughly an hour before he saw Tim leave the building. The man shot his chauffeur a smile, looking incomprehensibly good in a dressier-than-usual button up.

"Hey! How'd it go?" Jay pried as Tim opened the door and plopped into the passenger seat.

"Well," Tim started with a lopsided smile. "Considering I just signed a contract agreeing to do it, I think it went pretty well."

Jay snorted, giving Tim a playful shove. "Don't be a smart-ass about it." Jay's expression shifted to one more skeptical, his eyebrow raised in questioning. "They didn't low-ball you or anything, right?"

Tim shrugged, getting buckled. "I mean I would take anything for my work at this point but I'd say this is enough to cover my car at least."

"Thank fuck." Jay sighed and relaxed into the cushion of his seat, taking a moment to close out the mental space he had dedicated to brainstorming how they'd cover the cost of Tim's car troubles. He focused on his own vehicle now, shifting into reverse and backing out of his parking space.

They began what should have been the short drive home. Key word–should. What was usually a ten minute drive quickly turned itself into a writhing, inching, congestion of last minute merges, excessive horn usage, and overall frustration. Rush hour.

The two had been living in the city long enough that they were used to the frustration, so instead of commenting on the diesel truck whose black-smoke exhaust was now turning his own car into a co2 gas chamber, Jay mused aloud that they should use the frozen chicken for dinner rather than the ground beef.

20 minutes later and they were only halfway to their destination. They were in the thick of the congestion, because as always, road construction seemed to be active at the worst time. The two had run out of things to talk about, so Jay was humming along to the quiet music, staring daggers into the bumper of the car in front of him, begging it to move forward even half an inch.

"So," Tim started suddenly.

Jay's eyes snapped to his direction and he forced the deranged 'I hate driving' expression off of his face.

"When were you gonna tell me we were engaged?"

Jay nearly rear ended the car in front of him with how hard he whipped his body to orient Tim. "What?!"

Tim laughed, something amused and short but its lightness cut with how tight he seemed to be pushing himself into the seat, as if he was ready to disappear into it at any moment. "Your co-workers asked when our wedding was," Tim informed him casually. "They seemed pretty certain of themselves we were dating."

Jay kept his eyes on the road purely for safety reasons, totally not because he was so embarrassed he couldn't bear to look Tim in the eye. Of course his friends had to go and say some goofy shit as soon as they got a chance to talk to Tim. "Sorry about that," he cringed. " I tried to make it clear that you weren't my boyfriend but they obviously took that in the complete wrong direction."

Tim gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement then went silent. By now, Jay had sweated through his shirt, nervous of what his roommate had to think about the hypothetical prospect of dating, and of course his ac was on the fritz again but he couldn’t try to keep up with the conversation, worry about his car, and keep his eyes on the- JESUS FUCK THE CAR IN FRONT OF HIM FINALLY MOVED. He let off the breaks, exhilarated to be in motion, when Tim had to open his pretty mouth again.

"I wouldn't mind."

The car behind Jay must have assumed it was the man's first day driving–hell his first day on earth with how hard he slammed on the brakes, both in response to the car in front of him and to Tim's statement. "Huh?" He warbled intelligently, tearing his gaze away from the road for a single second. And thank God he did.

Tim wasn't the most expressive character, even now, his face was blank, eyes still hooded in their usual disinterested gaze, but his poor face was flushed a bright pink. Tim began to hunch in his seat, the seatbelt shifting, leaving a slight red mark where his neck met his collarbones.

"I mean I wouldn't mind if we dated." He clarified, clearing his throat and daring to look Jay in the eye. "If you uh, wanted."

HONNKKKKKKKK

"Jesus! Fuck- wait-" Jay took his foot off the break and waved an apology to the car behind him. He would NOT ruin this moment by causing an accident. " Tim, this is like the worst time for this, I'm sorry."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see his partner deflate a little. "Shit I thought- I mean-well... Yeah," Tim admitted with a sigh. "I was just putting it out there." The man fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "You probably need time to think about it."

"Don't you dare back down on me, that is not what I'm saying. It's purely because we're in rush hour in the middle of Cincinnati and I don't have the multitasking skills to talk about how much I love you without getting us killed in an accident."

"Oh." Tim's mouth cracked open to reveal a grin, seeming to understand the gravity of the statement. "Oh."

Jay reached over and grabbed Tim's hand, intertwining their fingers. Where this boldness came from, he had absolutely no fucking clue, but he just knew seeing Tim uncertain didn't sit right with him. "Yeah yeah, cheese it up, buddy, we’ll talk after dinner."

Tim gave his hand a squeeze. "Eyes on the road, Jay."

Chapter Text

Remarkably, they made it home alive.

Tim toed off his shoes and made his way to the kitchen, leaving Jay behind in the entryway. He let himself take a breath and ran his hands through his hair. He itched for a smoke but he was trying to cut back on that for Jay's sake. Instead, he made himself a cup of ice water, downing it. While chewing on some of the ice from his water, he took out the pre-packaged chicken breasts and pried the frozen hunks out of the plastic, tossing them onto a plate. The plate went into the microwave to begin its defrost.

The two had made dinner countless times over the past few years. They knew how to do it, how to weave around each other in the kitchen as they reached for spices and utensils. Jay would set the plates out on their two-chaired excuse of a dining table and Tim would finish preparing the food. They would take turns doing dishes afterwards, today it was Tim’s turn to wash and Jay’s to dry and put away.

Everything is normal, everything is fine. That was until the grating hiss of the faucet, gross texture of the sponge and the godforsaken way his sleeve kept slipping down from its rolled position as if it wanted to take a plunge into the soapy water, finally got to him.

He shut off the water abruptly, to at least get rid of one of his stressors while he continued scrubbing the chicken grease off of the pan in his hands.“Is now a good time?”

Jay paused in his drying, biting down a smile. “It can be.” He carefully set down the plate and towel and stepped back, now leaning against the countertop. He gestured openly with his arms. “Have at it.”

Tim let the pot sink back into the soapy water–it needed to soak anyways–and rinsed off his hands, drying them hastily on his jeans. Finally, he was able to properly readjust his sleeves, rolling them tightly into the crook of his arm. With a quick breath, he steadied himself, taking a solid step towards Jay, a step so severe he felt he was about to head into war. “I think we’re in love with each other,” he proclaimed.

Jay smiled. “I think you're right.”

Tim swore that goofy smile could cure all his worries. That was something he loved about Jay, he was honest. At least, now he was. Even in the past when he had lied he was painfully obvious about it. Jay was never quiet. The way he moved, spoke, smiled, breathed, stood, everything was a clear projection of his thoughts. Whether or not his partner was aware he did that didn't change the fact that Tim still thought it was brave.

The man himself was quiet. By choice more often than not. He barely understood himself so was mortified at the prospect of someone being able to read him before he was. He knew part of that was paranoia or trauma or whatever was going on with his schizophrenia diagnosis. In reality no one could know with absolute, definitive certainty what he was thinking, but it didn't feel that way.

The doctors at Rosswood put thoughts into his head. He was sure of that. Whether that was his delusions talking, he wasn't as sure. It at least seemed like they knew every thought that he had ever had. They said they knew what was best for him, and claimed to “know what he was going through” despite Tim not saying a single word. Every time he got used to a treatment, when he would stop putting up his walls and allow the thoughts to project out of his head, the treatments would change again. Looking back on it, those treatments were borderline barbaric, isolating, and if he thought about them any longer he was going to drive himself into a panic attack.

But the point was that Tim, for one reason or another, was cautiously emotive. Seeing Jay be so reckless and comfortable with his expressions healed something in him he didn't know he wanted fixing. If anyone in the world could read his mind–he wanted it to be Jay. But that was impossible so Tim had to tell him.

“I want to be your boyfriend. If you uh, want that too.” It wasn't graceful, but it was honest. It was as clear of a look into his mind as he could offer at the moment.

He knew he was sitting on these emotions for a while, not daring to let them process just in case Jay could read his mind. He knew the two of them had been walking the line of platonic for a while now. It’s not like they had kissed or anything but two guys cuddling each other to sleep after nightmares wasn't exactly the most hetero thing to do. In those moments Tim felt guilty. He always wanted more, wanted to pull Jay closer, crush him in his arms and have him squeeze back just as tight just so he could be certain that they were real. He wanted to mash his lips against Jay’s and memorize how he tasted. He wanted to discover if he could feel Jay's cleft lip scar or if it wouldn't even be noticeable, too distracted by the way Jay would run his hands through his hair and- no. He was getting distracted.

He only dared to think those things when Jay wasn't around, if not for Jay being able to telepathically hear his thoughts but on the more likely chance that it was somehow written on his face what he had been day-dreaming about. But now, depending on Jay’s answer, his dreams could become his reality.

Jay leaned into Tim’s space, taking Tim's hand into his own. He ran his fingers over the smaller man's scarred knuckles. The gentle gesture made Tim want to cry.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” The response brushed against Tim's eyelashes, the two standing so close that they were now sharing the same air. Jay's ears were flushed bright red and judging by the heat of Tim's face, he wasn't any better. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Jay with everything he had, he wanted to kiss him more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life. But he needed permission.

“Is that a yes then?”

Jay's free hand went to rest on the smaller man’s chest. He quickly became unsatisfied with the position, suddenly weaving up Tim's neck in order to cup his cheek. “ Yeah,” Jay stated, feather light and soft.

Permission. What a beautiful, freeing thing.

The dam broke, Tim lunged forward, pressing a hard kiss onto Jay's lips, immediately reciprocated with the same intensity. His hands roamed along Jay's back, hips, sides, chest, neck, hair, anywhere he could reach was not safe from his roaming hands and he was rewarded for his greed as Jay let out a deep groan of enjoyment.

They pulled away a few short moments later, panting, red, and disproportionally horny. Above all else though, Tim found he was flooded with relief. A weight had lifted itself from his shoulders, now replaced with the barely existent but grounding pressure of his boyfriend's arms around him.

“Wow.”

Tim smiled, bigger and brighter than what he thought possible for his face to do. He didn't care if his grin split him open, if his thoughts flooded out, making a mess of themselves on the kitchen floor because it was only Jay here to see that. And Jay loved him.

“Where was that hiding all this time??” The lankier man squeezed his boyfriend into a hug, which in turn forced a giggle out of his throat. God he felt like air. Was this the force of nature that was Jay Merrick? Able to render his 30 year old self into someone that giggled? Christ.

Tim only shrugged, holding himself as close to Jay as he humanly could. “ I assume that means you liked it?”

Jay pried Tim off of him, only to bring him into another kiss. This one was softer, Jay leading the rhythm of lip against lip. God Tim should have bought chapstick.

They pulled away again, but Jay didn't let his partner go far, pressing their foreheads together. “That answer your question?”

Tim hummed. “Mm I think so… but just to be 100 percent sure I understand, do you think you could repeat that?”

Jay huffed a soft laugh, bringing Tim in for another sweet kiss.

It was safe to say the dishes would have to be finished another day.