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Timothy nodded, thankful for the hand in his hair, afraid he would cry without some form of physical, moving comfort. He was going to be okay, Daren wouldn't let something bad happen to him. No, oh know. He was using Aomine's first name, he was Daren, he was Daren and not Aomine. Tears beaded in the corner of his eyes at the thought, knocking barely registered until Daren looked back at him. was it okay for Iroh to come in? Eyes flickered down to the switch but he decided against it, moving and forcing himself to sit up without something to lean against. He was worried, frightened, nervous, could Aomine tell? "H-he can come in..."

And there was the man looking as polished and as clean as ever. Timothy couldn't even force a smile. "Thank you. I'm feeling better." or he was, in any case. Then a small box was offered, more to Daren, Timothy thought, since the men knew their own better then Timothy himself. He wondered what was in it.

Oh well, his thoughts were forced away from the mystery gift and back to Iroh, cautious now. "That's... fine.' A recording, it wasn't fine. He'd cry, he knew he would. Timothy had done nothing but cry and sleep the entire time he was here. Awful, an awful existence to live. "I... I knew of the pictures." he admitted slowly, mind replaying the willing pictures, the not so willing and the tears. "Not all pictures were consented to but I didn't know he recorded. I didn't know he recorded at all." And that was definitely not consented to if he was unaware. Everything. "Where... where were the videos taken?" Please, please just the bedroom. The couch, the kitchen, the basement, he prayed none were there.

Timothy felt like crying right there, looking down in hopes of hiding his face. Every room, all the rooms, so much footage. "What?" since he moved in, Andrew had it... that long? A small cry escaped his throat. Betrayal, so much betrayal, how could Andrew do this to him? "DVD's too?" he whispered, only able to imagine what Andrew decided to make a hard copy of. Had he passed them out to other people? Was Timothy nothing but someone men stroked themselves too? "Pictures... pictures started... maybe a year after I moved in, year and a half, perhaps. I'd consented to some, mostly just, just teasing ones, playful ones." but then Andrew wanted more, but he'd been kind about it, not forcing Timothy to do anything to risque if he didn't want to. "But he got worse, and terrible. Took them at the worst moments, when I didn't want them. I tried to tell him." More like he'd exploded and Andrew had first lashed out, just a slap across the face before apologizing, saying he hadn't meant it. The police probably had that on tape too. "after that, most of them weren't consented if not 99% of them."

No, no he didn't want to look at any pictures, he didn't want anyone to see. An impossible wish since the police had no doubt gone through many of them. How many have they seen? Which ones? Oh god which ones? Happy ones? Bruised ones? Beaten ones? He covered his face, rocking himself back and forth gently, trying to somehow comfort himself until something slid over the tray and he peeked before bringing down his hands. Timothy whimpered at the images, very clearly remembering that day. Maybe a few weeks after the first hit and Andrew had constantly threatened but never acted on it. This costume had started out playful, but the toys and the bar, they were unusual, uncomfortable, and it was even worse that he had wanted a picture.

But Andrew had hit him again and threatened another one, and for some reason Timothy hadn't believed him and a second, much harder slap was given to the already tender cheek. He didn't argue after that and Andrew took as many pictures as he wanted, removing the bikini bottom in the process.

"I... it was supposed to be fun. It was weird, but Andrew liked me dressing up like that so I didn't mind." he said softly, feeling the arm wrap around his shoulders. He wasn't embarrassed, he was ashamed. "Then he got all weird, wanted those things. I said yes... i didn't want to but he threatened to hit me. Then he wanted pictures." his eyes were hot with tears again and they fell before he could try to stop them. "Twice, he hit me twice before I let him. I didn't want it. I didn't want it." and covered his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to keep his tears silent.

Timothy shook his head to indicate it wasn't Iroh's fault. It wasn't, it really wasn't. Why hadn't he told the officer when he first came to the apartment? But the soft fabric was draped over his hand and the man looked at it, more tears falling. He didn't deserve this sympathy. He'd brought all this upon himself. "Y-You're welcome." he cried, using the handkerchief to cover his mouth once more. He didn't want to cry, he really didn't. He was so thankful yet so ashamed of himself. He didn't want to accept anymore help but they were giving it to him regardless.

Daren almost seemed to cradle him before laying down, Timothy clinging to this familiar smell rather quickly and doing is best to hold back, and considering his previous tearful moments he thought he was doing rather well. But his fingers curled around the white fabric that was Daren and his body even curled around him, one leg over the other's just to keep him close. Just sleep, just sleep, he could sleep.

"Iroh!" Timothy yelled, sitting up suddenly. "No, no no, the neighbor, she needs protection to. her and her son helped me!" he turned painfully fast to Daren and had to pause, stiffening and sitting up straighter to avoid the pain. "The neighbors! They need to be protected as well! If Andrew does get bail he'll make their lives miserable!" he shouted. His voicebox wasn't used to the shouting, but for some reason it felt so good.

Timothy's heart felt like it was pounding throughout his entire body, Iroh's words just barely breaking through it. Oh, they were safe. Oh thank god they were safe. The man could never forgive himself if Andrew harmed them. And she was still calling, she was fine. Though the rift wasn't unexpected, her husband had been gone a lot. "Thank you." he whispered, throat very angry and refusing to go any louder.

The handkerchief soon found his cheek, Aomine cleaning him up before placing it aside. "Yes please." Much more relaxed he was able to snuggle against the man almost happily, one arm curled in toward his chest while the other laid across the officer's torso like he was a teddy bear. Content, that was the word, Timothy was content.

He gave a small sigh, lifting his head to remove his glasses and lazily toss them to the table, missing as they clattered to the floor before moving back to his comfy position. The man was still very shaken, so many men had seen videos and dvds and pictures of what Andrew had done, so terrible. "I need to use your fabric softener." came the small murmur, eyes closed as he pressed his face against the man's chest.

"mmhmm." was the sleepy response, the patient quickly falling asleep. Comfort, warmth, and a nice smell. It'd been so long since he could sleep peacefully like this. But the disturbances of the day crawled up his spine and to his subconscious, coloring his dreams with bruised purple lilies and blood red roses. He gave a weak whine in his sleep, trying to shift closer to the man which was impossible, so he settled for the next best thing, worming his way on top of him. It was a slow process, shifting and then laying still until the dreams crawled back up, making him move a bit more onto the man until he was comforted and went back to a dreamless state.

This pattern continued well past dinner, Timothy having successfully moved himself onto Daren, legs on either sides of his waist while his arms drooped lazily onto the bed, head nuzzled below the man's chin. The blanket had not been taken with him, covering his lower waist and below. However Daren was on the edge of the small bed so his right leg was bare and hanging off the bed itself, but he was comfortable.

Until his stomach gave a growl.

Timothy tried to ignore it, but that tiny growl woke up the workers in his brain mentioning they were low on fuel and needed to gas up. Apparently 'gassing up' meant turning on all the switches until his brain was humming with activity. He gave a groan of frustration, stretching and shifting, turning his head to the other side and becoming still again, but his brain wasn't. "I'm hungry." he murmured like a child, making no move to get off Daren. He wasn't even aware he was on.

A hand ran up his side making the man try to shift away, brain suddenly on yellow alert, cautious. "Need a nurse." he responded, weakly feeling around for the button until a hand met his hair. Orange alert, the brown eyes opened as his hair was gently grabbed, head moved to face Daren. He didn't even have time to back away as rough lips touched his own for a brief second, then his entire body went on red alert. No, no did Daren, oh please no. he'd been, no. No.

Timothy was pale, ready to shift away until he felt something press against his lower belly, making this position all the more worse. He wanted to shrink, blue eyes opening, but they weren't lust filled, they were shocked, embarrassed, horrified even. The red lights were still flashing brightly as Aomine was silent, processing all of this. Timothy was ready to run if needbe, not caring about the IV in his arm, he would run.

But Daren didn't move any further, if anything he became as tense as the man on top of him before stammering and apologizing. Wait? Apologizing? red lights froze, quickly shifting down to yellow as the patient listened, though still gray in color. An accident. "O-Oh." Oh thank god. Daren didn't, oh glory be.

He nodded, bringing his leg back under the blanket, body moving against Daren and his problem before sliding off and onto his side of the bed. Well, that was a lot of moving and rubbing up against him, Timothy almost felt bad for him, almost. His body was still trying to calm down. But the kiss, the problem between them, yet that was it. was Timothy not handsome enough for Daren? Oh, but then again Daren was straight, he was safe either way. he sighed in relief, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, finding the nurse button and pressing it. The slutty nurse was bound to be gone now. It was night shift.

"Sorry," he murmured finally. but that kiss had been nice, brief, but nice. "I didn't mean to sleep on top of you." how did he get up there anyway?