Work Text:
Elliot liked to think that he had given up on believing that anything would happen when he expected it to, except for solid things like birthdays and holidays he knew not to really expect when winter would end or when the new lamb would be born or if he would pass the math test.
If he didn’t try to guess about it then he could still be surprised by whither it happened and when it happened
Elliot believed in this notion eve harder after some random day in June that he would celebrate for the rest of his life.
Elliot had been helping patch one of the fences along the north field while Tim followed him around carrying tools and talking endlessly about some investigation he and Rebecca had gotten wrapped up in earlier that week.
Elliot hadn’t really been listening.
Mostly he’d been trying not to think about how sunlight caught in Tim’s hair or how his laugh carried across the field.
Which was pathetic, really.
“You know,” Tim said suddenly, “Rebecca told me you’ve been avoiding me.”
Elliot nearly drove a nail through his own hand.
“She says a lot of things.”
“Yeah, but usually she’s right.”
Elliot snorted softly at that. Then sighed.
Tim stood awkwardly beside the fence post, hands shoved into his pockets. Despite being absurdly tall, he somehow managed to make himself look small whenever he got nervous.
“I miss hanging out with you,” Tim admitted quietly.
And that—
That hurt more than Elliot had expected.
Because Tim sounded sincere. Completely unaware of the way he’d cracked Elliot open over the years without ever noticing.
Before Elliot could stop himself, he laughed. Sharp and tired.
“Yeah, well,” he muttered, hammering another nail into the wood, “it’s a little hard being around the guy who keeps making heart eyes at your sister.”
Silence.
Elliot froze.
Tim froze harder.
For one horrible moment, Elliot considered throwing himself directly into the electric fence.
Then Tim said, very carefully, “I wasn’t making heart eyes at Rebecca.”
Elliot stared at him.
Tim looked equally horrified and embarrassed.
“Oh my God,” Tim whispered, face turning red, “you thought I liked Rebecca?”
“You followed her around for six months.”
“I was trying to ask questions about you!”
Elliot blinked.
Tim blinked back.
Then, in true Tim fashion, he walked directly into the fence post beside him.
The sound Elliot made was somewhere between a laugh and a choking noise.