Chapter Text
It’s a briefing that has absolutely no right being this long. Tim is at the front of the room, arms folded, voice steady, doing what he always does cutting through nonsense, getting to the point, making everyone feel vaguely like they’ve personally disappointed him at some stage in their life. John is leaned against the back wall with Lucy, half-listening, half-distracted by the fact that Tim is in full command mode and that's the mode that he most loves.
It’s normal.
It’s fine.
It’s
“Chen,” Tim says without looking away from the board, “you’re taking point on east sector. Nolan, don’t improvise today” “Hey,” Nolan protests. Tim continues like he didn’t hear him. “Harper, I want updates every ten minutes.” Angela gives a small salute. “Copy.” John shifts his weight slightly. Tim’s eyes flick barely in his direction. So fast no one else notices. But John does. Of course he does. It’s nothing. Just a glance. Except Tim’s expression changes for half a second after it. Not the briefing face. Not the work face. Something softer, he uses when there alone. Then it’s gone as fast as it was there.
“…Nolan,” Tim says again, sharper, “stop making that face.” Nolan blinks. “What face?” “That one.” “That’s just my face.” “It’s inappropriate.” Lucy mutters, “That’s also his face at weddings.” Tim doesn’t react. Except his gaze drifts again. Back to John. And this time he doesn’t catch it quickly enough. John raises an eyebrow slightly. Tim pauses mid-sentence. For a fraction of a second, the room feels like it’s waiting. Then Tim says, completely smoothly, “Nolan, if you mess this up, I’m assigning you paperwork for a week.” Nolan groans. Angela laughs under her breath. Lucy is still watching
Briefing ends. People start moving. Chairs scrape. Conversations start up. Everyone breaks apart into smaller chaos. Tim steps down from the front, already resetting himself back into professional mode. John pushes off the wall. He doesn’t mean to follow him. He just does. It’s automatic now, in a way neither of them ever talk about. Tim is halfway to the hallway when John catches up. “Hey,” John says casually. Tim doesn’t slow down. “What.” “You good?” That gets him a look. Flat. Controlled. “Why wouldn’t I be.” John shrugs. “You just did that thing.” “I do many things.” “Yeah,” John says. “But that one was… not very you-in-public.” Tim stops walking. Just for a second. John almost walks past him. Almost. Then Tim reaches out. Not grabbing. Not pulling. Just adjusting.
He straightens John’s collar. Quick. Automatic. Like he’s done it a hundred times without thinking. It’s neat. Precise. Familiar in a way that doesn’t belong in a hallway full of people. John freezes. Tim doesn’t. “There,” Tim says. “You were off.” John stares at him. “My collar was fine.” “It wasn’t aligned.” “It was aligned.” “It’s fixed now.” There’s a beat. Then John slowly says, “You just did that in front of half the station.” Tim finally seems to register where they are. His hand drops immediately. “…habit,” he says. John grins. “Theres habits now?” Tim’s eyes narrow slightly. “Don’t make it weird.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You’re thinking loudly.” John leans in a fraction. “You forgot yourself for like, two seconds.” “I did not forget anything.” “You fixed my collar like I it was normal.” Tim exhales through his nose. “It was crooked.” “It was not crooked.” “It was bothering me.” John pauses. Then, quieter, amused now. “It was bothering you.” Tim doesn’t answer that. Which is answer enough. From down the hallway, someone laughs loudly.
Tim immediately resets his posture, shoulders squared again, stepping back into himself like nothing happened.
Like it didn’t matter.
Like it didn’t exist.
John watches him for a second longer. Then, softly: “You have been doing that a lot lately.” Tim glances at him. “What.” John shrugs. “Forget where you are.” Tim’s expression doesn’t change. But his voice drops slightly. “Not in public.” John nods once. “I know,” he says. Then, lightly, like he’s letting him off the hook without saying it out loud: “Just me then.” Tim holds his gaze for half a second longer than necessary. Then turns and walks away. And this time, John doesn’t follow. Not immediately.
Just watches him go.