Tim had zero regrets on the subject, even if he felt the way humans must after a marathon. He stumbled out of Nathaniel’s truck on shaky legs, hoping he could make it into the café, and then heard Nathaniel turn off the engine. Nathaniel came up beside him in the next moment to take his arm, and most of his weight, and Tim found himself being escorted to work. It would have been faster to crawl. People kept stopping Nathaniel to wish him a good morning. From the way they looked him over, Tim felt it was also to make sure Nathaniel was truly all right after the accident. Nathaniel had taken another unheard-of day off; it was reasonable for people to have worried. As long as it was only worry, and not people glancing between the two of them like they were trying to see what exactly Nathaniel and Tim had been up to on that day off. Obviously, fucking was what they’d been up to, and now Tim was starving. He would have hurried to the café on his own if not for two things—his promise to Nathaniel to avoid being alone, and Nathaniel’s hand, which Nathaniel didn’t remove from Tim for a second, no matter who stopped them.
