Ooh, chaps. I guess you could have been - it was a very fast dream.
[ but now he knows later at night, when he's reading for school or letting his mind wander he will absolutely picture hawkins fuller as one of the cowboys in dark denim and leather. he may or may not even wonder if the chaps themselves might even be assless...
but there's little time to dwell on it, considering they're heading to class anyway, and even as he walks backwards, he can't help the way he laughs at professor fuller's stutter-step, laughing easily in time with him. he shrugs one shoulder again, holding his hands up in mock defense. ]
Is it actually Anna? Well, I don't know about a date, but you were being nice to me, so I was thinking maybe you might have a cold. Should I check your temperature?
[ ah. there it is - the joke about being spoken for and tim's face burns hot, up to his ears and he rolls his eyes. ]
I only know her because she sends out wellness e-mails in the summer and her picture is in her e-mail signature. I made up the thing about the cats, by the way - but you know her name and knew who I was talking about. [ there's an accusatory point of his finger before he turns and waits, looking over his shoulder with a cheeky sort of expectation - waiting until they fall in line together again before picks up walking and drops his voice low, meant to be quiet but it turns out husky after all the laughing. ] Tell me, Professor Fuller, is it serious?
Inquiring minds need to know.
[ he snorts, stretching his arms again over his head, letting his laced fingers rest at the back of his neck as he walks. he doesn't mind that they're going to class but a part of him wants to skip it and soak up the afternoon a little longer. he knows half their class will be missing on a day like this, anyway - and tim does so much of the talking, it doesn't really matter if they're there or not.
but a lick of white-hot eat slides up his spine - if you prefer me being rough. god. he can only imagine what being rough might look like with a man like hawkins fuller. a broad palm on his neck, over his mouth, around his wrist, against his back, in his hair - a heavenly push and pull, fraught with electric tension.
he swallows hard. ]
I don't think you could take it easy on me if you tried. [ a grin and his hands fall back to his sides. ] Maybe you take it easier on everyone else. But me? I don't know. Something tells me you like being hard on me - why, I don't know. Maybe it's my undying wit and incredible arguments? Is it my top notch essay writing? Or maybe it's just the fact that I've opened my mouth.
[ tim isn't stupid. he knows how all these words can be knitted together to make something provocative, paint a picture in some way or another. how they began this strange little flirtation, he doesn't entirely know, but something in the heat and bite of it all makes it feel like he's approaching something - getting closer to something he's wanted for some time. ]
no subject
[ but now he knows later at night, when he's reading for school or letting his mind wander he will absolutely picture hawkins fuller as one of the cowboys in dark denim and leather. he may or may not even wonder if the chaps themselves might even be assless...
but there's little time to dwell on it, considering they're heading to class anyway, and even as he walks backwards, he can't help the way he laughs at professor fuller's stutter-step, laughing easily in time with him. he shrugs one shoulder again, holding his hands up in mock defense. ]
Is it actually Anna? Well, I don't know about a date, but you were being nice to me, so I was thinking maybe you might have a cold. Should I check your temperature?
[ ah. there it is - the joke about being spoken for and tim's face burns hot, up to his ears and he rolls his eyes. ]
I only know her because she sends out wellness e-mails in the summer and her picture is in her e-mail signature. I made up the thing about the cats, by the way - but you know her name and knew who I was talking about. [ there's an accusatory point of his finger before he turns and waits, looking over his shoulder with a cheeky sort of expectation - waiting until they fall in line together again before picks up walking and drops his voice low, meant to be quiet but it turns out husky after all the laughing. ] Tell me, Professor Fuller, is it serious?
Inquiring minds need to know.
[ he snorts, stretching his arms again over his head, letting his laced fingers rest at the back of his neck as he walks. he doesn't mind that they're going to class but a part of him wants to skip it and soak up the afternoon a little longer. he knows half their class will be missing on a day like this, anyway - and tim does so much of the talking, it doesn't really matter if they're there or not.
but a lick of white-hot eat slides up his spine - if you prefer me being rough. god. he can only imagine what being rough might look like with a man like hawkins fuller. a broad palm on his neck, over his mouth, around his wrist, against his back, in his hair - a heavenly push and pull, fraught with electric tension.
he swallows hard. ]
I don't think you could take it easy on me if you tried. [ a grin and his hands fall back to his sides. ] Maybe you take it easier on everyone else. But me? I don't know. Something tells me you like being hard on me - why, I don't know. Maybe it's my undying wit and incredible arguments? Is it my top notch essay writing? Or maybe it's just the fact that I've opened my mouth.
[ tim isn't stupid. he knows how all these words can be knitted together to make something provocative, paint a picture in some way or another. how they began this strange little flirtation, he doesn't entirely know, but something in the heat and bite of it all makes it feel like he's approaching something - getting closer to something he's wanted for some time. ]
I'd say you're playing favorites.