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Sheriff should have saw this coming.
That shaky feeling in his stomach had been consistently growing over the past few days, and it had become harder to think. His thoughts grew louder and louder with each passing moment, to the point where he was having trouble properly functioning. Words went in one ear and right out the other. It was increasingly harder to focus on everything, but he had managed to brush it off. Right about now, though, he was really regretting that.
Now, he was pacing in his bedroom, when he should be getting ready to grab coffee with Doc, and freaking out over something/i>.
That was the worst part of this whole thing. He was never able to fully figure out what exactly was bothering him until after the… the episode was over. Sometimes there wasn’t anything at all, and he was left wondering why he was so… so broken.
"God, I can't do this," he mumbled to himself, running his hands through his hair for the millionth time.
He had knocked his hat off by accident some time ago. He didn't bother to find it after changing.
And what if you step on it? Then you'll ruin it, just like how you're gonna ruin everything else. Just like how you're-
No, stop. He wasn't going to let those thoughts get to him. He was not going to do that.
He knew shouldn't get like this. He shouldn't let things get to him so easily. He needed to learn to man up. To bury the hatchet and, for the love of God, not cry so easily. It was so pathetic
And he was crying, now, wasn't he?
He hadn't even noticed before. Now that he had, though, it really only made him want to cry more. The uncontrollable tightening in his chest only succeeded in making it harder to breathe, and he found himself choking on air.
Sheriff tried desperately to bring himself back to reality. He backed himself into the corner of the room. With his back pressed against the wall, he sank to the floor. The only thing he wanted right now was to be held. And dear God was that childish, but it would help so much. But the only person he could think of that wouldn't question that was the exact same person he didn't want to see right now.
He grimaced to himself at that last thought. He was a terrible person and partner, wasn't he? After so long of dreaming that Doc would swing his way, Sheriff can't even bring himself to freaking communicate.
But then there was a knock on the door.
And Sheriff's heart dropped.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
At that thought, Sheriff buried his head in his hands and gave himself a pity laugh. Pull yourself together.
When there was another knock, Sheriff was made aware that he hadn't answered. "I'll be right there!" he forced out, his voice weak and wavering.
There was a muffled response, but Sheriff didn't bother trying to make out what was said. Instead, he leaned his head back against the wall and pressed his palms into his eyes. As much as he tried to focus on his breathing (he vaguely remembered his mom using it as a calming exercise), it didn't help much. He felt trapped. Trapped in time, his own body, and his own mind. Like there was a weight on his chest that wouldn't let him do anything. Surprising himself with another choked sob, he pulled his legs close to his chest and balled his hands to his first.
Doc - whoever - would leave him alone, eventually. Just as he's sure this moment would eventually pass.
But 'eventually' felt so far away.
Especially when 'eventually' is filled with thinking. And thinking was not something he was enjoying right now. He needed to be away from his own head, away from his own body, away from his own mind.
And Sheriff's mind hated him. Just like how Doc was going to hate him. Because he was a mess. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know how to say that he didn't know what he was doing. He was worried he'd be a bystander in his own relationship, again. He was worried about the others and about himself. But he didn’t want to take away from Doc’s struggles. He didn’t want to come across as needy. He didn’t want-
"Just STOP!" Sheriff cried out to himself, pulling his legs impossibly closer.
"Stop what?"
Sheriff's head snapped up to his doorway to find a confused and concerned Doc staring back at him. Instead of saying anything, though, he just stared. A part of him was hoping that if he didn't do anything, Doc would disappear. Or, at the very least, see that he wasn't in the mood to talk, ignore the fact that he was very clearly not okay, turn around, and leave. Though, to Sheriff's partial dismay, Doc did not leave. Instead, he knelt in front of Sheriff. It appeared as though the lack of answer only concerned him more.
"Sher, stop what?" Doc repeated, this time more urgently as he reached out to touch Sheriff's shoulder.
Sheriff quickly reached up to grab his hand, though, stopping him in his tracks. They sat like that for a beat; Sheriff looking at Doc like a deer in headlights while Doc watched Sheriff, unsure of how to move on. Slowly, Doc retracted his hand, and settled next to Sheriff. Sheriff's eyes darted between Doc and everything else in the room. He was scared to make eye contact, but was scared to not make it, as well. Now that someone was with him, though, he couldn't tell what he was feeling. It was somewhat comforting, but it also got harder to not start crying, again. After some point of choked and broken ('and pathetic,' he thought) noises escaping his mouth, Sheriff buried his head in his knees, again, in an attempt to muffle them.
Resorting to his default statement, Sheriff croaked out, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Doc assured, instinctively reaching out to touch Sheriff, again, before quickly stuffing his hand in his jean pockets. "There's no reason to be sorry. Just tell me what needs to stop."
"Nothing needs to stop. I'm just- I don't know. I want it all to stop but it can't stop and I'm just so…" he trailed off, not entirely sure of what he was saying in the first place.
Doc froze, almost scared. "'All?' As in, what, life?"
Sheriff quickly turned his head to face Doc as he wiped away tears. "No! Not- not that. I want this, I want to live. I think. No, I do! I do. Even if I didn't, I couldn't possibly go through any measures to- to end it like that. I'm- God I'm a freaking coward. I just want my…my head to end. My head, it's so- it's so damned loud all the time. It's…it's…"
He trailed off again. There were so many thoughts in his head and yet not a single one of them was coherent. Briefly, he made eye contact with Doc, and his anxiety skyrocketed once again. Doc looked worried, which was the last thing Sheriff wanted to make Doc feel.
"Take your time, Sher. I'm not going anywhere," Doc comforted, hesitantly moving to rub Sheriff's back.
A strangled noise escaped the back of Sheriff's throat upon being touched. Doc went to retract his hand, again, at first, but Sheriff reached around and grabbed it. Instead of holding it still, though, he intertwined their fingers.
"I'm sorry," Sheriff repeated, again. He was barely stopping himself from collapsing into Doc right now, if he was being completely honest with himself.
Doc placed his other hand over their intertwined ones and began rubbing circles on Sher's. "I already told you, there's no need to be sorry."
"Yes, there is. We had plans, but now we're sitting on the floor while I cry like- like a child. This isn't fair to you. You should go to Flo's without me," Sheriff all but begged, looking up at Doc with pleading eyes.
Still, Doc shook his head 'no.' "You're more important than a cup of coffee, Sher. I'll sit like this in silence if you want. But I'm not going to stop you if you decide to tell me what's wrong, either. Because I know something's wrong."
Before Sheriff could stop or really understand himself, he found himself adding, "I'm scared."
Doc raised a brow, urging Sheriff to continue. Yet, Sheriff came up blank.
"I don't…I don't know why I said that."
"Think for a moment."
Despite the fact that that was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do right now, he complied. Doc had, somehow, managed to calm him down a bit, so his brain was a little easier to sort through. He was still shaking, yes, but it was getting easier to breathe and the tears were no longer coming as fast. And he found that he wasn't exactly scared, he just felt as though he was under pressure. Too much of it.
"There's so much pressure on me to meet your standards. I don't want to..... to disappoint you."
"Sher, you could never disappoint me-"
"Yes, I could!" Sheriff cut Doc off, not willing to hear what he had to say. "This is my first time in a relationship that I actually want. I don't know how any of this works. And that's freaking scary."
"And this is my first relationship away from the spotlight. I don't entirely know how this works, either, Sher. But we'll figure it out, together."
"But there are still expectations, right? Like- like sex? That's something you want, isn't it?"
There was a beat of silence, and Sheriff couldn't tell whether it was meant to be a 'yes,' or a 'where are you going with this?' But he continued. This time, though, his voice was barely even a whisper.
"I don't. I can't even stand the idea of it. And I'm not willing to compromise. Not…not again."
Silence fell over them once more, and Sheriff couldn't tell whether he wanted to get up and leave or hold on to Doc for dear life.
"This is also my first relationship with a man," Sheriff hesitantly continued. "And I don't know how the others in town would react. It's a small town. Word spreads fast. And if they're not okay with it, then we could very well lose our jobs and be forced out of town. That's a big secret to keep, and I don't want to screw it up."
Once he finished, Doc sighed before untangling their hands and pulling Sheriff in for a hug instead.
"I've gone this long without sex, Sheridan, what makes you think I need it, now?"
The question startled Sheriff, and he didn't know how to answer it. He had never seen Doc keep someone over for the night, and he knew for a fact that he hadn't been in a relationship since before he came to town. He only assumed because…well, it had been assumed of him everywhere else.
"Your comfort is always going to come first, Sher. We'll never have to have sex if you don't want to. Honestly, we don't have to do any of this if you don't want to. If it's too much for you, then-"
"No!" Sheriff interrupted, pulling back from the embrace. "No, I don't want any of this to end. I just get like this sometimes and it's terrible, but we'll figure it out. I love you too much for that, Jessie."
It took him a few minutes and the grin on Doc's face to fully process what he had just said, but the moment he did, he started panicking again. Barely even a month had passed since that confession in the car, it was too early to be saying that, right? God, screwing things up while trying to fix them is something he'd do, isn't it? 'Good going, Sheridan.'
Seemingly understanding Sheriff's train of thought, though, Doc moved his hands to cup Sheriff's face.
"I love you, too, Sheridan. Honest-to-God, I love you more than anything in this world. Now don't start worrying or panicking again, alright? We'll figure out the specifics of how we're going to go about our relationship, later. But for now, you need to relax."
Sheriff hesitantly nodded, allowing Doc to plant a small kiss to his forehead. Doc didn't have to fight to get Sheriff to come closer, afterwards, as he immediately wrapped his arms around Doc and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Doc turned so that he was leaning up against the wall once Sheriff was situated, and they didn't speak or move at all after that.
'Later' could come as late or as soon as it wanted to. Right here, right now, in this moment, felt pretty good for the both of them.