Title: Two Solitudes
By: Caroline Crane
Pairing: Speed/Tyler
Rating: PG
Summary: Post-ep for "Wannabe". He could say a lot of things.

He's a little disappointed that the tie's gone. The jacket he could live without – more clothes to deal with later, after all, and he's never a fan of anything that keeps him from easy access to Tim's skin. But the tie – the tie's a different story.

And he feels guilty for thinking about something as stupid as a tie after the day Tim had, but he can't help remembering how Tim looked just a few hours ago and how much Tyler had wanted to grab hold of that tie and drag him back to bed.

"Hey," he says as he lets himself into the apartment, dropping his keys on the table on his way into the living room.

"Hey." Tim's sitting on the couch, gun in one hand and a white rag in the other, and okay, that's almost as hot as the tie. Not that he's got a thing for guns – he doesn't think much about them one way or the other, but when it comes to Tim pretty much everything is sexy. Even watching him clean his gun, and Tyler's across the room and sitting next to him before he realizes he's moving.

He's still wearing the charcoal shirt he had on this morning, open at the collar now and Tyler wants to touch. He settles for shifting a little closer, knee resting against Tim's and his hands clasped together in front of him. "How long have you been home?"

"Not long," Tim answers, glancing up from his gun long enough to look at Tyler. It only lasts a second before he's looking down at his gun again, paying careful attention to a task he hates and that's enough to let Tyler know how hard he's taking all of this.

He wants to say something – tell Tim he understands, maybe, or even just ask if he wants to talk about it. Only he's not sure what there is to say, and he's pretty sure Tim won't want to talk anyway. So instead of offering he reaches out, resting one hand on Tim's knee and squeezing for a second before he stands up again. "I'm starving. What do you want for dinner?"

"Whatever," Tim answers, focus still on the gun in his hand and suddenly Tyler's not so sure he shouldn't push Tim to talk. They've got all night, though, so he lets it drop for now and walks into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and pulling vegetables out of the crisper.

He's halfway through slicing tomatoes when he hears footsteps on linoleum, and he looks up to find Tim frowning at him from the doorway. "You know you're still doing that wrong."

"It's not my fault you're a perfectionist," he answers, grinning when Tim tries and fails to hide a smile. And he wasn't really planning it, but he's not surprised when Tim washes his hands and then steps up behind him, arms around his waist to close his fingers around Tyler's hand.

"Like this," Tim says, breath tickling Tyler's ear as Tim's hand moves for both of them.

When the tomatoes are sliced to Tim's satisfaction he lets go just enough to let Tyler turn in his grip, grin firmly in place as Tim's hands settle on his waist again. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I do it wrong on purpose?"

"The thought's crossed my mind."

His hands slide up the front of Tim's shirt, fingers grazing the exposed skin at his collar. He's been dying to do this all day, because Tim's been miserable and he just wanted to feel this warmth and know he was okay. But they were at work, and when Tim wasn't in the DNA lab annoying Delgado he was tracking down Horatio for updates on Wally's case, so this is the first time Tyler's really seen him since this morning.

And he could tell Tim what Delgado's been saying about him to anyone who will listen, or he could tell Tim what he told Delgado when she made the mistake of complaining to Tyler. He could say a lot of things, empty words about how it's not Tim's fault and how he did right by that kid. But he doesn't want to hear any of that – if anybody knows that, it's Tyler, so he doesn't say any of it. Instead he slides his hands back down the front of Tim's shirt, eyes following the progress of his fingers as his hands come to rest where Tim's tie should be.

"If you want to talk about it…"

"There's nothing to say," Tim interrupts, looking away for a second before he meets Tyler's gaze. "H is right – there's nothing to do but get up tomorrow and move on."

Tyler nods, hesitating because he's not sure now is the right time to bring up the phone call he made this afternoon. Then again, he's not sure there will ever be a good time, and if he lets it go now he might not get another opportunity. He's not even sure if Tim's the kind of guy who needs closure – he gets the feeling Tim's learned to live without it over the years, and maybe he doesn't miss it.

"I just wish…" The words are murmured so softly that he's not sure at first that Tim said anything at all, but then the hands on his hips squeeze a little tighter and Tim swallows hard and says it again. "I wish I hadn't let him go home alone."

It's useless to tell Tim it's not his fault – they both know it's true, but saying it doesn't make it feel any more real. So he grips the front of Tim's shirt and pulls him close, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before he answers. "I talked to his father today."

"You what? Why?"

"The funeral's on Friday morning. I thought you might want to go."

Tim doesn't answer right away, and for a second Tyler wonders if he made a mistake. He's never asked if Tim stuck around long enough to attend David's funeral – it's one of those questions he wonders about sometimes, but he knows Tim doesn't like to talk about it and he's okay with that. So he has no idea if Tim's got something against funerals, and he wishes suddenly that he'd tried a little harder to figure that out before he brought it up.

When Tim's hands tighten on his hips he's not sure what to think, but a second later he's being pulled into a hard kiss and he stops thinking altogether. His lips part automatically under Tim's, hands closing around the front of his shirt and he's going to leave a mess of wrinkles. He doesn't really care, though, not when Tim's kissing him like he can't get enough. And if he knew what he did to deserve this he'd do it a lot more often – all the time, as long as it meant Tim kissing him like he needs Tyler to breathe.

Tim's whole body is pressed against him, pushing him back against the counter and by the time they come up for air he's pretty sure he's going to have a mark on his back. Not that he minds, because Tim's hands are still on him, pushing up under his shirt to splay warm fingers across Tyler's skin.

"You think you can get the morning off?"

It's the closest Tim's going to get to admitting he doesn't want to go to the funeral alone, but he's asking Tyler to go, so he'll take it. "I already took the day. In case you don't feel like going back to work."

Tim nods, pressing forward again and Tyler meets him halfway. The kiss is slow this time, deliberate and he feels it all the way to his toes. He knows what Tim's not saying – 'thank you' and 'I love you' and all those other words Tyler doesn't need to hear, because he can feel them. He feels them all the time, whether they're in the kitchen or drifting off to sleep at night or even sitting shoulder to shoulder in his lab staring at crime scene photos. He knows, so he doesn't need to hear it, and when Tim pulls away he smiles and reaches up to run his thumb over red lips.

"So did you still want dinner, or…"

That gets him a laugh, low and just a little embarrassed, and he likes that not all of Tim's self-consciousness has worn off. He has a feeling it never will, and he likes that too. When Tim pulls out of his grip Tyler quells the urge to pull him close again, smiling to himself as he helps finish making dinner. He's not exactly sure what they're making, but he doesn't really care as long as it's fast.