hyperion property.

        “Well, this is my best suit, so I suppose it’s to be expected.” breathless, disbelief layered upon disbelief. it really IS his best suit, black armani with gold floral detailing along the lapels, tailored to fit every inch of rhys’ maturing body. the same suit he’d worn on his last RED CARPET appearance, which had been abuzz in the media for WEEKS following. rhys won’t pretend he hadn’t been trying to impress SOMEONE tonight, but he’s not sure it had ever been intended for his date. it rarely is. rhys excuses tim’s exaggerated wink and reaches for his glass of wine, gripping the stem with trembling fingers. he is FOOLISHLY weak for timothy, and this is still SURREAL. 

        “You look fairly decent yourself.” rhys sets the glass back down, understatement steadied by the sweet tang of the alcohol. timothy has always dressed with the FLARE demanded of him, but sometimes rhys still thinks about the first time he’d seen him. in a suit slightly too big for his frame, shoes that didn’t fit quite right, still deemed perfect for the job despite it – - rhys’ father had always said it was the FIRMNESS of timothy’s handshake, the steel behind his eyes. rhys didn’t know what his father meant then, and he still doesn’t now ;; everything about timothy has always been soft when it comes to RHYS. when their eyes meet again, rhys sees nothing but warmth. comfort. safety. “Do you plan on walking me home after our meal, too? Like a proper gentleman would?” 

     incongruous eyes dance along rhys’ frame, taking in the way he looks and the gorgeous golden accents on the lapels of his jacket. rhys is PRETTY, and e v e r y other compliment in between that as well. but thinking of rhys as anything BUT his guard, well that’s just... completely unprofessional. he’s known rhys since he was a teenager, timothy’s positive it’d just turn out to be WEIRD anyways. but he grins, reaches for the complimentary water set in front of his plate—cause HE’S rhys’ date now. “ it suits you very well, rhys. “

        flustered doesn’t even BEGIN to cover it, the feeling that shudders its way through rhys as tim draws his foot closer with his own. there are going to be SO MANY gossip rags with this image of himself and tim on their fronts tomorrow morning. ‘ RHYS SOMERSET, YOUNGEST ATLAS CEO IN HISTORY, DATING PERSONAL BODY GUARD? ‘ they’ll be nothing but false speculations, of course, because rhys is only dating timothy in his WILDEST dreams, but it’ll be HOT in the tabloid circuit in the upcoming days to chase down the bitterness of the somerset DEATHS from not so long ago. 

        “You’re smoother than I’ve ever given you credit for.” rhys says, folding his hand and resting his cheek against his knuckles as he gives timothy the WARMEST look he’s worn in months. rhys is – - the happiest he’s felt in months, too, just sitting here and sharing this moment with timothy. the lines of professional and PERSONAL have always bled together for the two of them, but this certainly takes the cake. timothy saving rhys from a DISASTER of a lonely night? not exactly business. but rhys isn’t going to pitch a fit about it any time soon, not when it’s all he’s ever WANTED. “You’re supposed to lay the compliments on thick now, though. That’s how first dates go, Lawrence.”

     “ what can i say ? you learn a few tricks when you sell your soul over to hyperion and have to pretend to be a disgusting flirt. “ a CHEESY wink is sent in rhys’ direction, that same, charming smile never leaving his lips. flirting with rhys comes e a s y, and puts a smile on the young ceo’s face, so he can’t complain about the words he sometimes lets slip. a cheesy pickup line here, lingering touches there when he’s guiding rhys away from a crowd, it’s really no harm, right ? it’s JUST to make rhys smile and happiness, because that is genuinely what means most to timothy—not just what he’s paid to do. 

        “There’s my good, special boy, huh?” jack’s quiet breath of praise drips like acid from over his lips, a laugh forming in the resonance of his chest as tim struggles lightly in his grip, only moving as much as jack ALLOWS him to. even when he’s being feisty, timothy knows a losing fight when he sees one, and jack can respect that. can even respect the fact that he’s been arguing with jack AT ALL, honestly, and has to admit – - annoying as tim’s been acting, jack still finds it kind of ADORABLE. 

        “I like it when you let me have my way, but you knew that already.” the doppelganger’s struggling doesn’t shake jack’s hand, and his pushing doesn’t make jack budge, not a tiny bit, until jack has grown tired of crawling inside of timothy’s head and rattling around. he leans away and stands up straight again, rounding his desk and moving over to the window. hands slide into his pockets, the man’s eyes ( one more functional than the either ) finding timothy’s blurry form in the glass. jack watches him keenly, smirk like a knife on his lips. “It won’t be so bad, babe. My best doctors are on the job – - they’ll put you under so good you won’t feel a single thing.”

        not until afterwards, anyway. what? there’s only so much SCIENCE can do, and a procedure like this is OBVIOUSLY going to have some pretty nasty aftermath. still. it’ll be much less awful and scarring – - HA !! – - than having an EXPLOSION go off right in your FACE, timothy can be thankful for that much. 

        “You put me in such a great mood that I’m not even going to get onto you for your nasty language, Tim-tam. Generous of me, am I right?” the shadow elpis casts on jack as he turns, painting him in blacks and purples, a silhouette against the backdrop of space, cascades its veil over the cat got the canary SMARMINESS of jack’s expression. timothy still has not moved, or even turned to look at his boss, and jack feels kind of HURT that he won’t even meet his eyes now. sighing, jack gives himself a second before whistling to grab timothy’s attention, swearing up and down that sometimes his body double can be worse than ANY woman jack’s ever been with. 

        “Hey. Stop pouting and get over here.”

     timothy feels disgusted with himself and the way jack’s petname gets to him, gaze settled intently on jack’s pocketwatch and the fluorescent blue glow it gives off—the exact same as his own, but in this very moment is WAY more interesting to look at and examine every single little detail it can possibly give him. 

     “ i did already know that. “ boy did timothy know that. considering all the times he’s been MANHANDLED in bed as if he weighed nothing to the hyperion ceo. despite being his exact weight and size. though when jack finally lets him go and leaves his side, timothy’s fingers SHAKE as he reaches for his mask sat on jack’s desk, can barely even get it to actually clasp shut as he attempts at putting it back on. it’s a comfort, as odd as it may seem. a mask is a mask, hides what’s underneath—which is exactly what timothy WANTS here. 

     he’s so SICK of going under a doctors knife for this smarmy dick—no matter WHAT jack makes him feel. thirty-six hours to alter his entire life—another ten to erase every single document that proved timothy lawrence was a living and breathing human being. just gone from existence. permanently now, timothy’s not gonna kid himself anymore. this trip was a one way ticket, timothy was just too dumb to really realize this. “ oh, thanks. that’s super duper generous of you. “ nothing but sarcasm soaks his words as he stares at jack’s reflection in the window, arms coming up to fold over his chest. 

        “It just sounds so appealing right now.” no further debate over the merit of a whole jar of pickles can be made, so rhys pushes himself up on his elbows before taking tim’s proffered hands to be tugged COMPLETELY away from the soft nest of blankets. a lot of rhys’ cravings have been off the wall, but walking down the hall to the kitchen, hand in hand, rhys thinks this MIGHT just be the strangest of them all. as soon as they get to the kitchen, timothy goes rummaging through their food to find something. for RHYS. who sits at their breakfast bar and watches, completely besotted, and feels like the luckiest man on the entire planet of pandora. maybe it’s the weird pregnancy hormones, but rhys really CAN’T imagine a better life than this. 

         and he wants to spend the REST of it with timothy, too. in sickness and in health, and with their CHILD. like a.. a family. his heart feels like it’s going to BURST. he says exactly what’s on his mind, no hesitancy, because there never HAS been any hesitancy, not with timothy – - 

        “Let’s get married.” it may sound out of the blue, but this ISN’T the first time rhys has thought about it, and he’s feeling… something, right now. something important that he doesn’t want to ignore. “Timothy, let’s get MARRIED.”

     “ i want to vomit simply at the thought of you eating an entire jar of pickles. that’s absolutely vile, sweetheart. “ digging around cupboards and the pantry, timothy finally returns to the breakfast bar with a bag of salt and vinegar chips—hopes this will SOMEWHAT feed rhys’ major cravings. 

     setting them down in front of rhys, he presses a quick kiss to the top of his head before turning to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. but rhys’ little... declaration. causes tim to bash his head off the top of the fridge as he tries to stand up. a quiet curse falls from his lips as he stands up tall, staring into the contents of the fridge before he turns to look at rhys over his shoulder, a soft chuckle forming on his tongue. “ married, huh ? “ timothy’s certainly thought about it—hell, he’s even PLANNED it. but it seems has beaten him to the punchline here. 

        the truly TERRIFYING thing is that rhys DOES know what tim is saying, more terrifying still that he thinks he might be capable of… WARMING up to the thought of them with a c h i l d. rhys’ hands worm their way around to timothy’s back, slipping UNDER his shirt to smooth up the planes of muscle beneath his boyfriend’s skin. the contact is SOOTHING, somehow, but it always is. a sigh released into the other’s chest as rhys allows his head to fall forward, forehead pressed against soft fabric. 

        teeth worry the inside of rhys’ cheek, nerves twisting his intestines in KNOTS. he feels like he could vomit ( which he expects is going to be a frequent thing ANYWAY ) and… it is with that thought that rhys feels maybe, MAYBE he already HAS made up his mind. 

        “Our schedules are a mess as it is. We’d hardly have the time for each other if we didn’t live together, and sometimes I think I’d lose my head if you weren’t here to help me keep it screwed on.” pulling back from the soft embrace, rhys looks up at tim with the face of a man who is considering a future he’s never had the CHANCE to consider. “But… but let’s think about it, okay? Making a decision right now isn’t smart. We need time to mull it over.” 

     a pleased sigh leaves his lips at the feeling of rhys’ hands running along his back, a hand coming up to comb through the soft tufts of rhys’ hair. this is a heavy and loaded decision, both sides having their set of pros and cons—no matter WHAT they end up choosing here. the hand that isn’t combing through rhys’ hair is picking at the cuticles of his thumb with the nail of his index—a nervous tick he’s had since he was just a k i d—he wonders if it’ll be passed on to their child... if they do decide on not terminating.

     “ we shouldn’t think about it too long though, y’know ? if we’re not ready, we wouldn’t wanna like... get attached. and things can get a little more complicated the farther along you are. “ tim acts as if they’re gonna take MONTHS to finally decide on what they’re gonna do—though a small part of his brain tells him that they’ve b o t h already made up their minds here. 

        “This is going to sound INSANE, but I’m really craving something vinegary.” eyes are fixed on the ceiling, brow a contemplative furrow as rhys’ hand continues to stroke through timothy’s messy hair. tim has had his head pillowed on the VERY soft bulge of rhys’ stomach all morning, SWEARING he can hear something inside. rhys keeps telling him that it’s probably just gas, which only makes tim POUT. “I feel like I could possibly finish an entire jar of pickles. That’s not healthy, is it?”

                         it’s a rare thing to find a vault hunter with a conscience. between mowing down hordes of psychos and selling your gun to the highest bidder, it’s easy to lose your morals  (  if you ever had any to begin with  )  .  but tim’s consideration takes her off-guard  –  worrying over her shoulder, thinking about the others  .  .  .  it’s enough to soften her hard little heart just a bit.

               fiona hops gingerly out of the gunner’s seat, climbing down with one arm. she moves close enough to the fast-travel station for it to read her signature to prepare for transport. she won’t admit it, but she misses sanctuary. being nomadic was in her blood  ;  the only home she really ever knew was the caravan. but her little flat in the city in the sky is cozy enough. and she’s finally got a bed big enough to stretch out in. 

     ‘  you feel like hitting moxxi’s after i get this looked at  ?  ’  she fixes him with a knowing look.  ‘  i’m sure she’ll be happy to see you in one piece.  ’

   timothy all but rushes to her side of the technical, holds his arms out to help her down, maybe lingers for a LITTLE too long on her waist before his hands are quickly dropping to his sides again. he just worries, that’s it. end of story. he should probably get the wound on his hand checked out while they’re at zed’s, probably won’t take as long as fixing up fiona’s shoulders. just a few stitches in his palm and he’d be off on his merry way. though he wouldn’t be surprised if fiona had dislocated her shoulder.

                         the shoulder in question is wedged tight between her torso and the arm rest, keeping any loose bits from jostling around as they chug down the road. she gives him a half-hearted thumbs up with her opposite hand.

fiona furrows her brow at the mention of lost legion. they were pre-HYPERION dahl grunts that made a mess on the moon a few years back. almost killed handsome jack before his reign of terror even began.     could have done us a favor.

               ‘   maybe a couple of ‘em made it down here.   ’     they certainly looked acclimatized to pandora. it usually didn’t take long for the madness to kick in. she chews her lip as she considers.     ‘   you think more’ll come after you to finish the job   ?   ’

     the thumbs up is at least SOME sort of comfort to him, he knows that she can at least make it back to sanctuary before the pain becomes too much. “ i know zed isn’t exactly a... reputable doctor, but it’s better than nothing, right ? either that or possibly never shoot a gun again. “ a part of him misses nurse nina, at least she was a little more qualified to be a doctor and wasn’t as... warped. 

       rhys isn’t sure that what he feels for tim is QUANTIFIABLE by normal means, and this is exactly why. tim’s handling of rhys has ALWAYS been gentle and warm even when rhys’ parents HAD been cold entities of austerity. perhaps the greatest thing they had ever done for rhys was providing him with a body guard, TIM, that listened to rhys, cared about the things he was doing, cared about HIM, even when it was way above his pay grade and rhys was far too much to deal with. 

        settling back in the chair, rhys sets the menu down ( he’s known what he wanted to order for a good fifteen minutes by now ) and smiles at tim full of sincerity, cheeks a dusty pink. rhys may be growing into a true adult, but timothy still makes him feel like he’s a sixteen year old boy with a stupid crush on a man who could NEVER return feelings like that. he hopes it never stops.

        “You know I always want to spend time with you, asshole.” one of rhys’ feet nudges tim’s under the table playfully, warmth pooling in rhys’ stomach. he really can always count on tim to make things better. “You’re too good to me. I’m going to give you a raise just for this.”

     “ you ALWAYS want to spend time with me ? “ he gives rhys a feigned look of shock, hand coming up to place over his heart when rhys tells him this totally newfound information he had never known. ever since rhys was younger, tim had KNOWN about the crush, rhys wasn’t very good at hiding it. “ you make a man’s heart F L U T T E R, rhys. “ he laughs, soft and sincere as he hooks his foot on rhys’ under the table, pulls it more into HIS space. 

        it really would be unfair to JUST be blaming timothy, which is whys rhys ISN’T. takes TWO to tango, and rhys knows that it’s just as much his fault as it is tim’s, but it’s so EASY to be MAD. this isn’t the end of the world, so why does it FEEL like it is? using his anger as ammunition isn’t fair, though, and rhys takes a moment to pull himself together, letting timothy try and console him with his hands. rhys’ mouth works over silent words, opening and closing as timothy offers a LOGICAL solution, but his voice sounds reluctant, and rhys’ heart jumps for some inexplicable, terrible reason.

        gaze falls to the floor, body melting under the digging and massaging of tim’s fingers. calmer now, rhys is capable of speaking rationally, less venomously. “I know you’re going to say that ultimately it’s MY choice,” he breathes in slowly, letting his hands drop to timothy’s waist. they bunch up in the fabric of his boyfriend’s shirt, distractedly playing with the hem of it. “But what do you want to do? If it’s a shared blame, then it’s a shared decision, too.”

        would it really be so b a d? rhys tries to wrap his mind around the thought of them having a child, and there goes his heart doing that jumping thing again. it’d be hard… but they could manage it, rhys thinks, and it SCARES him to have a thought like that. or maybe it EXCITES him. 

        “Do you – - want to keep it?”

     he mulls over the question rhys proposes to him, continues massaging his fingers into rhys’ shoulders, putting pressure down into all the right spots. he knows rhys well, and knows the exact points to dig his fingers into to make rhys melt. he seems like he needs it right now anyways... god, maybe they should go to a spa. but now really wasn’t the TIME to be thinking of that.

     cautiously, as if dipping his toe into the water to test, tim moves to pull rhys into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around his body. “ i think... “ he pauses then, rests his chin on top of rhys’ head as he runs over the words in his head, tries to find the EXACT way he wants to word it to rhys. “ i think it’d be interesting. i wouldn’t say i WANT to keep it but... there’s like this little voice in my ear, a ‘what if’ voice... y’know ? “ he hopes and prays rhys knows what he’s going on about—that they’re on the SAME PAGE about this.