Work Text:
Tim liked to watch Raylan. He was good at doing it carefully, but when they were in the car - Tim in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel bringing them closer and closer to Harlan, and Raylan sprawled out in the passenger seat, hat tipped to shade his eyes from the glare of the dying sun - then Tim let himself look. Let himself take in Raylan’s familiar face - his crinkled eyes, the mole by his eye, the slope of his chin peeking out from underneath his hat. Tim drank in all the small details and stored them up for later.