Love (Tim)

Tim loves everything about Bernard.

He loves Bernard's spontaneity, how Bernard will get an idea in his head and just do it, and drag Tim into it, no matter how ill-thought out it is. No matter how much Tim plans and replans and makes contingency plans for his life, Bernard will always be a wild card.

He loves Bernard's openness. If he feels something, he shows it and talks about it, at least with Tim. But Tim knows that that openness is deliberate, that Bernard can and does keep secrets from people other than him, so that openness draws Tim out. Talking doesn't come naturally to Tim, but with Bernard he can.

He loves how Bernard knows everything about everybody. Tim is an experienced people-watcher and can figure out a lot about a person with a glance, but with Bernard it's a step beyond. Tim doesn't often run into people better than him at things he's good at, but Bernard's one of them. And Tim loves it.

He loves how much Bernard talks. From the moment they see each other, it's a nonstop stream unless Tim wants to talk. Or silences him with kisses or a glare. Most of the time, Tim just lets him talk.

He loves how Bernard trusts him. When they're in danger, whether from a mugger or because they're sneaking in someplace they're not supposed to be, Bernard lets Tim call the shots without a single argument. He trusts Tim to lock the doors at night and when he chooses the cheaper but more secure security system.

He loves the disorder Bernard brings into his life. While Tim's books and CDs and DVDs are all alphabetized, Bernard's are just tossed on the shelves, sometimes not even straight. Bernard washes his lights with his darks with his colors and is always baffled when whites become pinks. Tim has a lot of pinks, now.

He loves the way Bernard doesn't, won't, ask about his scars, about Robin. Because he doesn't think he could live without Bernard.