Chapter Text
Moving in with Sasha made a lot of sense. Tim liked her and he spent more than enough time at her flat already that he had his own drawer in her dresser to function as a lost and found for every article of clothing he’d left behind. After the Prentiss incident, going back to his empty house to mope alone sounded like just about the worst thing he could be doing. He didn’t even mind sleeping on the couch even when she’d offered her bed. She’d even got a dog, a lovably fluffy and snuggly corgi dubbed Mr. Peanut that he snuck sausages to when she wasn’t looking.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d say getting eaten by worms was a blessing in disguise. Spending all his days recovering stuck with his favorite person in the world.
That was at least until the entity known as Michael decided to pop in.
Tim had been mostly asleep on the couch, the TV left on, playing faint static in lieu of some late night shopping channel. The sound of the static got sharper somehow as he cracked open his eyes, first seeing nothing, then a long, distorted shadow on the wall the couch was pushed up against.
“What’re you doing up, Sash?” Tim slurred out, half-asleep.
She didn’t answer. Fair enough, it was her flat, she didn’t have to explain to him why she was up at… 2:30 in the morning. That did feel a little early, even for her. Groggily, Tim turned over to see who was in the kitchen, only to almost fall off the couch in shock.
The figure currently rifling through the upper cabinets was most certainly not Sasha, unless she had some magical growth spurt overnight. The mass of blonde curls that surrounded it and seemed to swirl and spiral with a mind of its own felt so familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He could say for certain that staring for too long was giving him a headache, a dull one behind his eyes.
For a moment, he glanced towards Sasha’s bedroom. She was probably still fast asleep, meaning she had no clue the kind danger they could be in. That meant it was probably time for Tim to save the day for once.
Slowly, he reached for the broom resting against the wall. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but Tim figured the element of surprise would help him out. It had helped Sasha when she’d gone and saved him from that Prentiss lady. Taking the quietest steps he could, despite the creaking of the old hardwood floors just barely muffled by her carpet, he sneaked behind the figure with the handle raised in his defense.
Before he could get a chance, the figure turned around, all spirals and confusing colors. Tim wasn’t sure whether to scream or not, especially when he caught sight of what long, sharp fingers it had. One hand that was crammed into a tin of instant coffee, while the other grasped it tightly, trying to pull it loose.
“What the hell are you doing?” Tim managed, face twisted in confusion.
“Ah, you must be Jimothy. Do you have a spoon?” The creature said in a strange, lilting voice.
“It’s Tim. And no.”
“Shame. I was planning on treating myself to a midnight snack.” It held up the tin to the dim light as if questioning whether to pour it straight into its mouth rather than bother with the middleman of a hand or spoon. Tim wrinkled his nose at the thought of trying to do the same.
“How did you get in here exactly?” The broom was temporarily set aside for the moment, if only because he thought it would be useless.
“Through a door.”
“Sasha locked it last night.”
“I didn’t say it was that door.” The creature smiled, far too wide to be human, though everything else about it didn’t help it make a convincing case. “How is Sasha? I haven’t seen her.”
“How do you know her?” Tim crossed his arms over his chest, feeling a little defensive.
“We are very good friends. Best friends, I would say.”
“ Really? And who exactly are you?”
“You may call me Michael. It is not my name, but I have heard it helps.” It shrugged, attempting once more to scoop out the contents of the coffee tin. “Now, do you know where she keeps the spoons, Tammy?”
Tim was too tired to possibly try and parse out any of what that meant or even correct his name again. Never breaking eye contact, he moved to the silverware drawer and pulled out a spoon. Michael’s long fingers coiled around it, reminding him more of a snap bracelet than anything resembling regular fingers. The metal was bent effortlessly into a ladle shape, perfect for scooping.
“Thank you, Timpani.”
I hope this is a dream. Tim thought to himself as he glared at the creature. “Try to keep it down.”
He watched Michael scoop out mouthfuls of instant coffee, flinching at the awful sounds of crunching. Nope, he wasn’t going to think about that. Of course, he had to wonder if this was something Sasha had dealt with before. If so, she really had the patience of a saint.
He tore himself away from watching it any longer, backing away to the couch. How he would be able to sleep with that happening, he wasn’t sure, but after he’d laid down and closed his eyes, the crunching sound ceased.
Michael was gone when he opened his eyes. There were no footsteps indicating that it had walked out the door, but there was a yellow door on what Tim was certain was an exterior wall.
“Fucking hell.” He muttered to himself before turning over on the couch and trying to sleep.