Chapter Text
Jonny reached forward, brushing Tim's hair behind his ear.
There was a soft smile on his face, a lovely smile, and Tim's cheeks were burning.
How could Jonny look so fucking lovely? How?
Jonny's hand was gentle, kind. Softly brushing against his cheek and avoiding the cruel metal of his eyes.
There was no pain as Jonny tucked the lock behind his ear and Tim was melting. His hand was gentle and stupidly soothing.
Tim had to fight himself to not lean into it.
God. How had he ended up pining like a teenager?
(Tim ignored the voice in his head that reminded him that he was, technically, still a teenager.)
"Your hair’s a fucking mess, Timothy." Jonny griped, pulling back, that stupidly adorable harsh tone back.
Tim could not tell you what he found adorable about Jonny’s tone, because honestly, it was angry, annoyed, but holy shit did it make his heart race.
Tim knew he was fucked . Jonny was so pretty.
"I know." Tim says, only having half heard the question. He was too busy trying to memorize the exact shade of Jonny’s eyes.
Jonny was just… so stupidly pretty. So stupidly sweet sometimes.
"Really, when's the last time you brushed it? It's practically matted." Jonny eyed Tim’s hair critically, his nose scrunching up and Tim would swear his heart skipped a beat because he’s never seen that expression before and holy shit he’s so cute. Tim felt his cheeks grow somehow hotter.
At that sentence, Tim knew he had it bad because the first place his mind went was Jonny brushing his hair.
Which was not only unlikely, but Jonny would probably be shit at it. Jonny did not have the patience for thick hair, much less curls.
Tim could not get the image of Jonny running his fingers through his hair out of his head though, so instead, he spoke. Hoping the conversation would lead somewhere else, where he could at least have a moment between the Jonny Is So Fucking Adorable I Am Going To Cry moments.
"Yesterday. An octokitten stole my brush. So I just. Didn’t brush my hair today."
"Ah." Jonny paused, clearly thinking. "Okay then."
Tim wanted to kiss him.
Tim really wanted to kiss him.
"I’m going to make breakfast. What do you want?" Jonny rolled on his heels and Tim was consumed by how fucking pretty he is.
How dare he be so fucking pretty.
How dare he make Tim want to swoon.
How dare he.
"I don't know. A poptart?" Tim says the first breakfast food he thinks of. He hasn’t regularly eaten breakfast ever. When he was mortal he was far more concerned with trying to get to school on time than eating, far more concerned about the looming threat of war.
Then there was a war, not the one they were expecting but a war regardless, and he’d been deployed and hadn’t eaten breakfast once.
After a moment of thinking, he realizes he can't remember the last time he actually properly ate breakfast and didn’t just eat an apple or skip it entirely.
"The fuck is a poptart?" Jonny asks, and Tim burst into giggles.
He was pining.
Jonny was glaring at him, and all Tim could go was smile.
Jonny was so fucking pretty.