Work Text:
Good things come to those who wait, or so Tim’s been told. So he waits and he waits and he waits, but the good things have yet to come.
Mom and Dad say they’ll be home soon. They say just a few days more, they say it’s good, that Tim learn not to need all his good things all at once. They say boys his age just think of their own wants, rich boys most of all. But Tim waits, he’s good at it. He does not ask for more than they can give. He waits.
Good things come. Tim’s house is full of good things. There is food and drink and warmth. His mom and dad do come home in the end. They stay for a brief snatch of time, eyes bright with the things they’ve seen far from here. Tim asks what they did and saw in short, small ways, with care not to be too much, not to ask too much of them. They turn to look at him, a brief glance here and there, speak with words he looks up on his own, and turn back to their own thoughts and dreams. Their time in Tim’s house is a rush, and in a rush they find a new site and they are gone. His mom and dad come home and are gone once more. It is a small good, but it is the good that Tim can hold. Tim waits.