Jo was waiting outside Raylan's motel room when his town car and Tim's SUV pulled into the parking lot. Rising from the shaky deck chair she'd been sitting in, she called, "what the hell happened tonight?" Both men sighed in unison at her question, stomping their way up the motel steps to meet her on the porch.

"Somebody put a hit out on Raylan," Tim answered when it became clear that the man in question had no intention of responding to his sister.

That wasn't exactly the explanation Jo had been expecting, but given Raylan's tendency to royally piss off bad guys, it wasn't all that surprising either. "Yeah, and now I've been assigned a nanny," he grumbled in displeasure while unlocking the motel door.

"Welcome to the time-honored tradition of babysitting Raylan, Gutterson," Jo mocked, patting him on the shoulder. Tim chuckled, Raylan decidedly did not.

Trailing after him through the now open door, the younger Marshal commented, "I don't suppose you got one of them suites with a pull-out couch." The look Raylan shot him implied the contrary.

Extracting various items from within his pockets, Raylan began unloading the pieces onto his wardrobe while asking, "you got any buddies became contractors when they got out?"

"Why?" Tim questioned in return, setting his rifle down on a nearby table.

"The hitters from last night," Raylan stated as though his train of thought were obvious.

"Is that why that CID guy showed up? Yeah, Art says I'm not supposed to talk to you about that."

Raylan chose to dismiss Tim's taunting tone entirely. "Contractors?" He pressed again.

Tim shared a quick glance with Jo, one that said, 'you might as well tell him,' before succumbing to the interrogation. "Yeah. Most of those guys are okay. Some of them, though, they get home, find out they can't hack it back in the world without the mad minute and start hiring out for wet work."

Is that why Tim had joined up with the Marshal's Service after being discharged from the Army, to satiate his compulsive need for the mad minute? Jo chose not to dwell on the prospect.

Raylan seemed to consider his fellow deputy's assessment for a minute, "I'll call the front desk, see if I can get you a cot."

The offer was quickly declined, however, "I got a sleeping bag in the trunk." Tim began to leave but halted promptly in his steps next to Jo. "Make sure he doesn't leave out the window or anything while I'm gone." She shot him a quick wink in acknowledgment.

Again, Tim turned to exit out the front door, intending to retrieve said sleeping bag from the trunk, but again his progress was interrupted. "No, I'm not leaving. Not right now. I'm beat," Raylan announced. "Plus, you got your car here. Even if I got a jump on you, you'd be right behind me."

The underlying warning to his words was evident, but Tim clarified anyway, "but you will eventually."

Raylan's tone was too casual as he confirmed, "eventually, yes."

Jo scoffed at her brother's childish behavior. She'd dealt with this insufferable obstinance from Arlo, from Helen, and from Raylan much of her life, she'd grown accustomed to the defiant nature Harlan County seemed to breed.

Outsiders, though, weren't readily equipped to handle such behavior. "Come on, Raylan, don't be a dick."

Tim appreciated her show of support but was determined to handle the older Marshal his own way. "Why would you do that?" He asked in vexation.

Rolling up his sleeves, Raylan stated, as if the explanation were evident, "well, I gotta talk to some people, alone. So, either you let me go, or I'm gonna have to give you the slip."

The next comment out of Tim's mouth had a bark of laughter escaping Jo's throat. "I love this shit. This shit makes me hard."

"Well, then we've both been warned," Raylan concluded before entering the restroom, leaving Tim and Jo alone in the motel room.

Pivoting towards one another, Jo whispered, "you wanna have a quickie while he's in the bathroom?" Despite her appealing offer, Tim merely rolled his eyes at the proposition. Ever the Boy Scout, he wasn't going to risk distraction while assigned to protective duty.

Releasing an audible sigh, he wrapped his hand around her bicep, and dragged Jo out of the motel room, snapping the door shut behind them. He finally released the vice grip he held on her arm once they were standing beside her vehicle. "It's time for you to go, Jo," he insisted, albeit begrudgingly.

She pouted like a child in turn, and set her doe eyes upon him, "I thought you liked being around me."

Tim groaned, she was trying to bait him, repeating back at him the words he'd used during the Dave Alvin concert weeks prior, but he wasn't falling for it. Although, seeing her plump bottom lip jutting out at him while she pouted, was making him seriously reconsider her earlier offer. "I do, and that's exactly why you've gotta leave."

"Fine, I'll go," she said while throwing her hands up in mock surrender. "You have fun shadowing the idiot." Jo turned to open the driver's side door but found herself immediately spun back around towards Tim.

He looked unsure for a moment, but then his hand quickly woven into the hair at the back of her neck and pulled her towards him. Their lips met in a short but all-encompassing kiss, one that cleared all stray thoughts from her mind as she grasped onto his arms in desperate need of grounding.

When he pulled away, both instinctively looked towards the motel room, ensuring Raylan hadn't wandered out to witness their little display. They each let out a relieved breath upon seeing the door remained closed, or maybe their shaky breathing was from their racing hearts, who could really say.

"I'll call you," Tim assured before placing one final kiss upon her lips. Jo reluctantly climbed into her car and drove away from the motel.

Now, when Tim said he'd call, Jo hadn't been anticipating it to be quite so early the next morning. "Raylan ditched me in the middle of a damn convenience store," he grunted through the line.

She tried to contain her laughter at his expense, "well, of course he did."

"Do you know where he might be headed?" He pressed further.

Jo thought for a minute, who would Raylan assume sent hitters after him? She knew the obvious answer, but that wasn't a direction she was particularly fond of sending the younger Marshal in. However, she knew he took his job seriously, even if that job was simply babysitting Raylan, so she confessed, "he'll be heading down to Bennett, to speak with Mags."

Before Tim could hang up on her now that his answer had been received, Jo added, "and, I know you could've just tracked his cellphone. Did you wanna hear my voice or something?"

He ended the call without another word.

The hour was late when a faint knocking sounded from her front door. This time, Jo wasn't startled by Tim's presence on the other side, spending a full day with Raylan Givens would give anyone cause to blow off some steam.

"I think I wanna kill Raylan," he muttered, walking past her into the living room.

"Well, you're at the bottom of a very long list," she grinned through a yawn.

He'd clearly interrupted her rest, Tim would've known that even if it weren't ridiculously late in the night. Her hair was tousled and her face was clear of makeup, but he found himself preferring this version of Jo. When she wasn't immaculately put together, when she appeared disarranged, she was far easier to read.

"Why do you always look at me like that?" She interrupted his musings.

Taking measured steps towards her, he asked, "look at you like what?"

Letting out a sigh, she confessed, "when you look at me like you're trying to read my mind."

Tim only wished he could read her mind, but her thoughts seemed firmly locked away behind layers and layers of impenetrable glass.

The two silently considered each other for some time, standing in her living room. Slowly, as though he were afraid she'd flinch away from his touch, Tim raised his hand to rest on her cheek. Jo found herself leaning into the contact despite herself. The warmth he offered was irresistible, and the realization terrified her beyond belief.

"Because you never say much," he admitted while absentmindedly stroking her jawline with his thumb.

"I prefer not talking," she said with a glint in her eye. There it was, the retreat to innuendo when anything got too real or too uncomfortable.

Tim decided to humor her this time. "Jump," he instructed, and she swiftly obliged. Wrapping her legs around his waist, his forearm underneath her thighs supported her weight while his other hand worked to draw their faces together.

Stumbling into the kitchen, Tim placed her gently on the dining room table while she peppered the expanse of his throat with feverish kisses.

Jo had thrown on a short, silk robe before answering the door, and Tim set about untying it slowly. His fingers danced lightly across the exposed skin as he drew back the soft material. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his caressing fingers; the night air on her skin felt cool, but his touch burned a trail across her flesh.

Dropping to his knees in front of her, Jo's fingers threaded through Tim's short blonde hair while he lavished her with far more attention than she felt she deserved.