Author's Note
Words: 1k
Triggers: Drowning, EDs

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Toby had never felt so cold. He was genuinely shocked that he could identity the feeling when it rushed onto him with the crashing waters. He's been cold before, but never like this; a cold that paralyzed his muscles and sucked the breath clear from his lungs. His head became engulfed in a murky darkness before resurfacing with a few sputtering coughs, and then he was plunged back under. This cycle repeated for an eternity before a large hand firmly grasped his arm and he was yanked out of the depths and onto the river bank. His clothes were sopping wet, his lungs felt tight with pressure, and his body trembled involuntarily.

"Rogers, what the fuck?!"

Tim's voice rang throughout his head like the clang of a church bell. Foreboding vibrations that made his vision swirl. He mumbled something through his frost-bitten lips that neither he nor Tim could truly make out. He felt water trickle from the side of his mouth, and that's when two hands were pressed down against his chest. Toby's eyes fluttered with each palpitation Tim pumped against his lungs. That's when he became very aware of the fact that he wasn't breathing. Panic surged through his body and he began coughing violently, his limbs racking with every convulsion.

He sputtered the water out onto himself, Tim's hands, and the ground. If he wasn't hydrated before, he is now, at least. How exactly he ended up in the god damn river he had no idea. He couldn't recall anything from the day, and if not for finding himself drowning in a river, he could've sworn he hadn't even woken up yet that morning. Once the water was cleared from his lungs, he peered upwards and locked eyes with possibly the most conflicted expression he's ever seen on the older man's face. Pain, concern, relief, and pure rage.

"You-" Toby was immediately cut off by a fist colliding with his jaw. He couldn't feel it. Just like he couldn't feel the coldness of the water- he simply just knew it was cold based on how his body responded. And likewise, he figured that punch should've hurt with the way the muscles in his jaw and face tightened up defensively.

"You dumbass!" Tim was screaming, his voice far too loud from Toby's preference at the moment. "You're so god damn lucky I was out on my walk early today, I could've stumbled across your mother fucking corpse, Tobias!"

Toby let out a dry laugh. It was met with being yanked to his feet, and promptly shoved back down. None of this hurt Toby, of course, but it did startle him some. He wondered if Tim would be gentler with him if he was able to feel the aftermath of the manhandling. "I wouldn't have th-thought you'd be my knight in shhhining armor after all these years, Timothy..~"
Toby cooed, and the look on Tim's face was priceless.

"How the hell can you almost drown and still manage to say shit to piss me off?" Tim growled under his breath. He grasped onto Toby's hoodie to lift him up to his feet. Toby wasn't skinny, really, but he was lean. A small body type, carrying the minimum amount of muscle it took to wield his weapons efficiently. Small body mass made it easier for Tim to toss him to and fro like a rag doll. Damn, that sounded bad, but really Toby thought it was hilarious. Almost fun.

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The sizzling of an egg on the frying pan caught Toby's attention. He was sitting at dining table, wearing a pair of fresh pants and towel over his shoulders. His hair was damp and a few droplets snuck down his face from the ends. Tim was standing in the kitchen, hunched over the stove, hyper focused on the egg he was trying to crack. Toby felt himself snicker, and it was met by a sharp glare from the man making his breakfast.

"I didn't know you could cook." Toby hummed curiously, resting his cheek on his hand as he watched Tim return to the task.

"Eggs are simple." Tim responded dryly. Toby wouldn't know, since he wasn't allowed near stoves growing up. His mother had a fear of him injuring himself trying to use something with heat. How ironic, he thought with a sick smirk.

"Besides," Tim continued. "I'm a grown man. Most grown men have at least a vague understanding of how to use a stove." Toby's smirk turned into a cringe. Yeah, most. Once again, Tim's intelligence put Toby to shame. Tim wasn't the most academically brilliant, but his street smarts bested Toby's within seconds. Tim could identify drugs, assess a person's body language to determine how to approach, start a fire in almost any weather, and most of all: how to light a cigarette without a lighter.

Toby's life in and out of public schools, practically held captive inside of his room every day with the occasional exception once his parents grew tired of him, and learning disabilities could never compare. It soured his stomach and he quickly averted his gaze from Tim's display of power of him.

What? He was literally just making eggs, Toby, what is wrong with you?

(TW- Eating Disorder Symptoms)

Before he knew it, a plate was served in front of him. The sheer size of the portions presented to him made Toby's stomach churn. The food smelled.. delicious, but the thought of stuffing himself with everything before his eyes made him feel sick. He sat and stared at the plate, and this caught Tim's attention quickly. "What?" He huffed. "Are you that picky?"

The mocking tone that danced in his voice made Toby's skin prickle. "No-" he hissed. "It's just a lot." He grabbed the fork and stabbed it into a clump of eggs, bringing it up to his mouth and chewing it. It tasted lovely but.. his throat was already trying to reject it.
Next time, he'd have to let Tim know that smaller portions are easier on his stomach. Not that there would be a next time.

(TW over)

"So," Tim slipped into the chair across from Toby. His hands folded together, and it reminded Toby of a disappointed teacher confronting a student about their grades. He was leaned forward, attentive, and his face was contorted uncertainly. "Are you going to tell me why you were in the river?"

Toby scoffed slightly. "I dunno, maybe I slept walked."

Tim rose an eyebrow skeptically. "You sleep walk?"

"No fucking clue. I'd be asleep, jackass."

Deciding that he wasn't going to get anywhere with the younger man, Tim stood himself up from the dining table. "I think you know a little more than you're letting on. When you're ready to talk, let me know, but I can't do shit for you if you don't tell me anything." Before Toby could retort, Tim had turned away and was heading to the back room of the temporary, make-shift home he, Brian, and Toby shared. Toby was left in the dining room, alone, wet, and no longer hungry.