Title: Episode IV
By: Caroline Crane
Pairing: Speed/Tyler
Rating: R
Summary: It's one of those questions he doesn't really want to know the answer to, but if he's going to live with the ghost of someone he's never met he wants to know what exactly he's up against.

Tim hasn't stopped touching him since they got back to his place. Since they left the party, really, but Tyler's not complaining because he likes this new, affectionate side of Tim. He likes the kisses Tim feathered along his shoulder before they drifted off to sleep, and the way Tim pulled him out of bed and into the shower. He likes the way those warm hands felt sliding over his wet skin, and he likes that Tim's still touching him now, one hand pushing absently through wet hair as Tyler knots a towel around his waist.

"Mind if I shave?"

"No," Tyler answers, grinning because it's not like he has to ask after all this time. "You want some help?"

"Let me guess. You worked your way through college as a part-time barber."

Tyler laughs as he leans across the sink, reaching into the medicine cabinet for shaving cream and a razor. He doesn't react when Tim's hand ghosts across his hip just above his towel. Drawing attention to the way Tim keeps touching him will just make him self-conscious, and the last thing Tyler wants him to do is stop. So he doesn't say anything, but when he's done filling the sink with warm water he turns and leans in for a soft kiss.

"No," he finally answers, "but I used to date a swimmer, and he shaved everywhere. I picked up a few tips."

"Everywhere?" Tim raises an eyebrow as though he's trying to decide whether or not Tyler's making fun of him.

"Everywhere," Tyler echoes, grinning when Tim winces. "I think the theory was that he'd already shaved everywhere else, so it would look weird if he didn't. Besides, those Speedos are really small. There's not much room to hide extra hair."

He slides onto the counter next to the sink, knees apart to give Tim room to stand between them. Tim takes the hint and presses close, hands on Tyler's thighs as Tyler reaches for the shaving cream. "Were you into it?"

Tim keeps his voice carefully neutral, but they've been at this long enough for Tyler to catch the nervous edge he's trying to hide. Part of him wants to say yes just to see how far Tim's willing to go to make him happy, but they're way past those kinds of games now. He can still feel Tim inside him if he shifts a certain way, still remembers that Tim broke his own rule about protection just a few hours ago, and he's not going to screw up tonight by making Tim any more self-conscious than he already is.

"At the time I was into the guy. Whether or not he shaved his legs didn't really matter to me."

He presses a warm washcloth to Tim's skin, softening his skin before he smoothes a layer of shaving cream over his cheeks and neck. It's hard to believe Tim trusts him enough to do this, but he's not tensing under Tyler's touch and he doesn't flinch away when Tyler picks up the razor. Tim's hands are still resting on Tyler's thighs, thumbs moving in slow circles and it's a little distracting, but he ignores it and focuses on that first, perfect stroke of metal against skin.

The silence in the bathroom is sort of comforting, and he falls into a rhythm of stroke, rinse, repeat until half Tim's face is smooth. He leans back long enough to admire his work before he shifts his focus to the other side, his mouth twitching into a grin when Tim takes advantage of the pause to shift a little closer.

"So how long did you and the swimmer last?"

"Most of junior year," Tyler answers as he moves a little closer to the edge of the counter, knees pressing against Tim's thighs. "It was kind of hit or miss during swim season, so we didn't figure out how little we had in common for a few months."

He knows better than to ask whether Tim dated anybody in college – thanks to Matt he knows Tim spent the first two years completely focused on David, and he has a feeling when Tim went back and finished his degree that he wasn't thinking about his social life. Still, he's heard a few rumors about Tim in the few years they've been working together – Detective Bernstein, for one, and a couple other names Delko's tossed around.

"You ever dated anybody else from the lab?" Tim asks, fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on Tyler's thighs. He's never thought of Tim as the jealous type, but Tim's jaw tenses a little under his fingers and suddenly he's not so sure.

"Believe it or not, I don't usually get involved with people I work with," Tyler answers, laughing when Tim frowns at him.

"So why the exception this time?"

"I had a feeling you'd be worth it." He smiles and grips Tim's chin with one hand, tilting his head just enough to run the razor along the underside of his chin. "What about you? Anybody besides me and your Detective?"

And okay, maybe Tim's not the only one with a jealous streak. He's been telling himself since yesterday that that whole thing with Bernstein doesn't matter, but no matter how hard he tries he can't shut off the part of his brain that keeps picturing them together.

For a second Tim doesn't answer, but before Tyler has time to panic one warm hand leaves his thigh to slide into his hair, tilting his head up to meet Tim's gaze. "He's not my anything. And it was nothing."

"How long?"

"A couple months," Tim answers, hand on the back of Tyler's neck now and he looks sort of ridiculous standing there with half his face shaved, but Tyler's not even tempted to laugh. "It just sort of happened. Right place, right time."

Tyler nods and reaches up to tug Tim's hand away from his neck, setting it firmly back on his thigh before he reaches for the razor again. "And before that…weren't you dating some girl? Pam or something?"

"Pat. He wasn't a girl, and it wasn't exactly what you'd call 'dating'. We slept together a few times, that's all. There hasn't been anybody important since David."

"How old were you when you met him?"

"Fourteen. I was in the library looking for a book on astrophysics and he was trying to find a topic for his Biology term paper. I wasn't much for conversation back then, but he had a way of making you feel like you'd known each other forever."

"You were reading about astrophysics when you were fourteen?"

Tim grins self-consciously at that and it's impossible not to smile back at him. "I'd already read pretty much everything else in the library."

"Was it love at first sight?" he asks, careful to keep his gaze focused on Tim's jaw as he slides the razor across his skin. It's one of those questions he doesn't really want to know the answer to, but if he's going to live with the ghost of someone he's never met he wants to know what exactly he's up against.

"We were just kids. I don't think I ever really thought about it until the first time he kissed me, and it took him a year to work up the nerve."

There's a part of him that wants to know about the years after that first kiss, to torture himself with details until he can't close his eyes without picturing Tim and some faceless kid from his past. There's an even sicker part of him that wants to ask if Tim has any pictures, because then he could put a face to the images and complete the torture. Only he doesn't want Tim to know how much this is bothering him, so instead he focuses his attention on the last stripe of white on Tim's skin.

When he's finished he leans back again, surveying his work to make sure he hasn't missed any obvious spots. There are still a few flecks of shaving cream left behind, and he reaches out and wipes at Tim's cheek with his thumb. He's only halfway through when a hand comes up to cover his, fingers closing around his to drag his hand away from Tim's face.

"Do you think you'd still be together if he'd lived?" Another question he doesn't want to hear the answer to, but it's out of his mouth before he can stop it and he can't bring himself to look at Tim's expression. Instead he stares at their hands, fingers fitted together against his knee and he's starting to get way too used to that sight.

It takes Tim a few seconds to answer, but when he does his voice is low and Tyler has to lean in to hear him. "When you're a kid everything seems so intense. I don't know what would have happened. When he died…mostly I just felt guilty for being the one who lived."

He knows all about survivor's guilt. It's impossible to work in the crime lab and not know, but he's never really thought about Tim blaming himself before, and he has to admit it explains a lot. Like why Tim takes certain cases so personally, and why it's so hard for him to cut anybody any slack. It doesn't explain why he's so afraid to let anyone know about them, but Tyler has a feeling that has more to do with his life while David was alive than anything that happened after the accident.

"So that year when you disappeared…"

"Mostly I just drove," Tim says, but for a second his eyes cloud and Tyler can tell he's not telling him everything. But there are some things he probably doesn't need to know, and he has a feeling this counts as one of them. "I don't know, maybe my mother's right. Maybe I was trying to get myself killed."

"Your brother says she still worries about you."

Tim shrugs and pulls his hand out of Tyler's, reaching up to curve his fingers around the back of Tyler's neck. "We haven't seen eye to eye on much since I was a kid. She never really forgave me for taking off, and I got tired of hearing about all the things I'd done wrong, so I just stopped talking to her."

"Do you ever miss them?"

"My parents?" Tim watches his hand as it trails down Tyler's shoulder, thumb tracing his collarbone. "Even when I was a kid we all kind of went our own way. I spent some time in my dad's restaurants before David, but we were never all that close."

It's hard not to feel sorry for Tim, because his own family is close and even though they drive him crazy sometimes, he wouldn't trade it for anything. But he knows Tim doesn't want his sympathy, so he doesn't say anything. Instead he reaches up again, brushing the last of the shaving cream off Tim's jaw. This time Tim lets him finish before he catches Tyler's hand in his, pressing a kiss to the center of his palm.

He doesn't let go as he leans in to brush their lips together, pulling back almost immediately to study Tyler's expression. And it feels like he's asking permission, although Tyler's not sure what for. He finds himself nodding anyway, tightening his grip on Tim's hand a little and then he's being kissed again, harder this time and he wants to laugh when he starts get hard again.

Only he can't, because Tim's tongue is in his mouth, hands on the front of Tyler's towel to tug the knot open. Then his hands are on Tyler again, moving rhythmically until Tyler's gasping against his mouth and lifting his hips practically off the counter. He tears his mouth away to moan, leaning hard against the mirror behind him and he's not thinking about the marks he's going to leave on the glass. He's not thinking about anything except the hand moving on him and the dark eyes watching him, even darker with desire and that look alone is almost enough to make him come.

He wraps his legs around Tim's waist, pulling him even closer and now all that's between them is Tim's towel. A few tugs and even that's gone, and Tim moans against his mouth when Tyler surges forward to kiss him again. And it's funny how much difference a few hours can make, because just a little while ago every touch was slow and deliberate, and this…this is frantic and needy and every bit as good.

Maybe even better, because Tim's murmuring things against his mouth, and even though Tyler can't make out the words he has a feeling he knows what Tim's saying. He's said the same thing himself often enough, murmured the words against Tim's neck where he could tell himself Tim didn't hear. Where Tim wouldn't have to hear if he didn't want to.

But they don't have to play that game anymore – Tyler doesn't want to, and before he can talk himself out of it he's pulling back to look a slightly dazed Tim in the eye. "I love you."

For a second Tim looks sort of shell-shocked, like he really wasn't expecting to hear that. And maybe he wasn't – not right now, anyway, but before Tyler has a chance to panic Tim's face is pressed against his neck, smooth skin warming his own as Tim marks a trail along his jaw. He shifts just enough to line them up, closing a hand around both of them this time and stroking in time to the slow roll of his hips.

Tim's mouth finds his again, teeth closing around his bottom lip to nip gently before he pulls Tyler's lip into his mouth and sucks. Part of Tyler wishes they'd made it back to the bedroom where they could stretch out – where Tim could fuck him again, harder than last time so Tyler would feel it in the morning. He doesn't want to stop even long enough to make it down the hall, though, and when Tim moans against him Tyler knows he couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

He reaches between them, closing his hand around Tim's, stepping up the pace just a little. And it's already been a long night, but that doesn't stop him from hoping there will be a next time, maybe in a few hours when they wake up tangled in his sheets. Or maybe in the kitchen after breakfast that they cook together, something they've done so often now that they don't have to think about the choreography of moving around his tiny kitchen.

They just…fit, like they were made to go together, and he knows it's stupid and sentimental but sometimes he can't help thinking it's true. Like now, when they're moving together in perfect rhythm with hardly any effort, mouths fitted together and Tim's hand gripping his hip. They come seconds apart, Tim tensing first and tightening his grip reflexively, and Tyler following with a low, broken moan that sounds suspiciously like Tim's name.

Tim pants against his neck, breath just this side of too warm and Tyler's hands slide into his still-damp hair, stroking slowly as he waits for Tim to catch his breath. Endless seconds later he finally pulls back, lips brushing across Tyler's shoulder, then his jaw and finally his mouth. "I do too, you know."

He wasn't sure Tim was going to acknowledge it, if he was going to say anything or just pretend he hadn't heard until he was ready to deal with it. And it's not exactly the most romantic way to phrase it, but Tyler has a feeling he's out of practice, so he's not going to complain.

"I know. Nice to hear it, though." His heart skips a beat and he tightens his legs around Tim, pulling him in for one last kiss. And he wishes they could stay just like this – just for awhile, alone in his apartment where the rest of the world doesn't matter. But they both have jobs and Tim can't ignore his brother forever, and there would be a lot of raised eyebrows if they both started calling in sick on the same day.

Tomorrow's Sunday, though, and neither of them has to work, so he's got one more day before he has to share Tim with the world outside his door.