[ Slowly, after Quentin's softened and pulled out of him, and the empty feeling starts to subside into the warm, comfortable haze of their afterglow, Tim pulls his legs from around the other man to stand on his own two feet. He still holds onto him, the embrace holding him steady as the muscles in his legs stretch and readjust, remember how to stand without wobbling like a baby deer after a short time of knowing nothing but how to squeeze around Quentin.

His easy acceptance of Tim's small request tugs uncomfortably at his heartstrings. Quentin doesn't have to think about it, or protect his ego, he just says yes, makes Tim feel like he needs it just as much. It's nice. Maybe easy can be nice. ]

I'd like that. [ Smiling, a happily-tired one, as he reaches to swipe a bit of his own spend from Quentin's abdomen, shot a little high for the water to have washed it away. ] I'll help you clean up.

[ And so he does, dragging out the separation for several minutes. Without having the foresight to actually bring a washcloth, cleaning up is more an excuse to touch him than anything, admire his body fully without the urgency of desire narrowing his focus. Eventually, he reaches for the shorts that have laid forgotten on the ledge and hears the jangling inside. Right. ]

Hey, Quentin. This is gonna sound silly. [ Pulling the shorts back on, neither rushed nor graceful, looking down through the water without his glasses. ] But they gave me this party favor.

[ A metal tag on a soaking wet string with Tim's name on it, which he pulls out of the pocket. ]

I'm supposed to give it to someone. Will you take it?

[ Earnest, with little thought given to the implications. It'll dawn on him later, and he'll beat himself up over it then, but a token of his appreciation seems appropriate. All religious guilt to come aside, Tim's needed this, the knowledge that a one night hookup doesn't have to feel degrading. Maybe it'll even happen again. ]