[ look, this IS a raylan fic. but also... tim is so good looking this episode in particular while out of his professional clothes and with that tattoo peeking out (I can't make out what it is, tragically) and so I cannot resist having something happen between him and Bambi knowing dang well what Raylan and Winona get up to next episode.

also, Sabrina Carpenter was amazing but also the day was ruined by finding out I'm having ankle surgery in November and will be in a cast for 9 weeks and then the death of Liam Payne, who was the first person I ever wrote a fanfiction about ]

✵︎

FIGURE I BETTER CALL IN A SUBSTITUTE TEACHER.

[ season 1 — episode 11 ]

BAMBI was only half focused as she left her house one morning, her face pointed toward her tote bag, double checking that she had her students' graded math assignments to hand back to them — they all probably would've preferred she lost them all given how poorly most of the kids did. In her free hand was a travel mug of coffee and her phone, really hoping she wouldn't drop them on the way to the car because the ground was a little muddy from the rain last night.

"Bambi."

At hearing Raylan's voice, Bambi quickly came to a stop and looked up, alarm crossing her features when she saw that he was, in fact, not alone. There were several squad cars and one black van, and Art Mullen stood by Raylan's side next to his Town Car.

"I'm guessing this isn't to get that birthday drink?" Bambi asked, feeling a bit nervous even though she hadn't done anything wrong.

At least, she was pretty sure she hadn't done anything wrong.

"No, it ain't," Raylan said with an apologetic expression. "But I also wasn't exactly makin' a map in my mind when we were visiting your brother's little church. We're gone need you to lead us to him."

Bambi forced an uneasy smile, hating what it insulated. They were gonna raid Boyd's camp — for what, she was too scared to ask. "Why Raylan, ain't you supposed to be the Marshals' big ol' expert on Harlan?"

"That's about the only reason we still keep him around," Art joked. "Don't worry, Miss Crowder, you won't be in any danger."

"Oh, I what'n't worried about that," she said, shaking her head. Then she sighed, looking back at Raylan. "Figure I better call in a substitute teacher on the drive over though."

✵︎

"Now, you stay right with Tim while we're making the arrests, you hear me?" Raylan asked Bambi, leaning down a bit to look her in the eye. "Say it back to me."

"I ain't to leave Tim's side while you're making arrests," Bambi said with a little grin.

"Jesus, I think she gets it, Raylan," Tim said with a smirk, coming over.

All around them, Marshals and local police were suiting up in bullet proof vests and double-checking their guns, getting ready to follow Bambi into the woods.

"I don't wanna hear it," Raylan said, looking between the amused Bambi and Tim. "I know the shit this one gets herself into."

"Because of you," she reminded him.

He gave her a sharp look while tightening the bulletproof vest she had on. She just hummed as he held onto her sides, still addressing her seriously. "And if any of their weapons are drawn—"

"I steal Tim's gun and outshoot all of you," she joked, making him roll his eyes. Then she sighed and covered his hands on her waist. "I get down and go for cover, Raylan. You went over this on the car ride over."

Finally, he let out a breath and nodded, taking a step back. "Alright, we move out when you're ready. Let me let Art know."

She just nodded encouragingly at him before smiling at Tim. "I what'n't joking about wanting your gun," she told him, crossing her arms. "Least you could do for putting me in this ugly vest and not giving me one of those cool Marshal jackets."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Well, I think you'll appreciate the vest a lot more if bullets start flying." But then he matched her smile while sliding his own navy windbreaker off, which he then held it out to her. "So you stick out less in that frilly dress."

Bambi grinned down at the purple sundress she was wearing, not thinking the navy jacket matched anymore than the vest. But she was giddy as Tim helped her into it.

Then the fun was over once she was properly equipped. With Raylan walking on one side of her and Tim on the other — and with Rachel and Art flanking her closely, Bambi led the team of officers through the woods. It only took about ten minutes, and soon, she was having everyone slow down, knowing it was just a few yards away over the hill.

That was when Raylan took over, leading the team. Tim kept Bambi behind him, her barely able to see as Raylan snuck up behind the man poorly keeping watch on the camp, covering his mouth and tackling him to the ground so that they could have as much surprise as possible.

Finally, the whole squad rushed to the center of the camp where most everyone was still sleeping and in for a rude awakening.

"Come out of the tent with your hands up!"

"Put your hands up!"

"Come on! Get out! Get out!"

"Now! Get on the ground!"

Even as everyone was dragged out and began getting handcuffed and forced to the ground, Tim kept his job of protecting Bambi seriously, his gun never lowering.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Art greeted loudly. "Please remain facedown with your legs spread until you are told otherwise. You are now in the custody of the Kentucky State Police and the U.S. Marshals service."

Bambi cringed when she saw her brother get lowered to the ground not-so-gently. "Raylan, with all this manpower, you looking for Osama Bin Laden, 'cause I'm fair certain he ain't here."

"You must be proud," Raylan said to him while forcing his own man to his knees. "You made it most of three weeks before murdering someone."

"Sorry," Boyd said sheepishly.

Art was glancing at a piece of paper that contained the court order for this raid. "Mr. Crowder, Captain Choate of the Kentucky State Police has identified a parolee living among you, in violation of the terms of his release."

"All this fuss is over one parole violator?" he asked in disbelief. "My Sweet Sister in a bullet proof vest for that?"

"Well, unless you've got something else you'd like to tell them about," Bambi said accusingly, the disappointment in her tone clear.

On the ride, Raylan told her about the meth lab with a CI inside of it exploding and killing the man who last reported that Boyd and his followers threatened to blow the lab up. Whether it was intentional or not, Boyd had killed someone else and he hadn't even been out of prison for a month.

"Well, they strike the shepherd so the sheep may scatter," Boyd said simply, not giving anything away.

A scattered, "Amen," sounded from all his followers, making Raylan scoff.

"The shepherd... is that you?" he asked, pointing to Boyd.

Bambis stepped to the left to look at her brother better, only to hit something hard, making him screech from underneath the tarp he'd been hiding underneath. "Ow!"

Tim was fast, pulling Bambi behind him and pointing his gun at the figure underneath the tarp who'd gone unnoticed. "Come up out of there! Let me see your hands!"

"What the hell you think I'm trying to do?" the person asked as they thrashed around.

Recognizing the voice, Bambi just rolled her eyes. And clearly, Raylan recognized his whiney tone as well.

"Whoa, whoa, hey. Hold up. I think I know that voice," Raylan said, getting Tim to lower his gun. He removed the tarp and pulled Dewey roughly up to his feet. "Hey. Looky here. It's Dewey Crowe."

Dewey grimaced at Raylan, who didn't let him go before looking around the camp. And his eyes landed on Bambi, who he smiled sheepishly at.

"Hey, Bambi, how you doin'?"

"Ready to get back to my classroom."

✵︎

It was a day later when all the members of Boyd's church had been freed that Bambi saw them again — Raylan and Art, that is. She was walking down the street, a huge Tupperware container in her hand that was full of fresh banana nut muffins. And she was headed for the VA bar in town. Every month, she always brought some kind of baked good in surplus for the veterans than hung around the only legal bar in Harlan.

She didn't see them at first, too focused on the bouncer who greeted her with a smile.

"Hey, Terrance, I got your favorite," she told him, passing over the container.

"God bless you, Bambi," he said, shaking his head — Terrance really loved banana nut muffins. "I'll get these inside."

Once Terrance stepped inside, Raylan called for her.

"Bambi?"

There he was, sitting on the curb with Art right next to him, both looking quite tired.

"Raylan? Chief Mullen?"

"Oh, you can call me Art," the older man sighed. Then he nodded to the door. "You wouldn't happen to know how to get us inside there, would you?"

"No, sir," she said apologetically. "Veterans only. I just drop off some snacks every now and then, you know?"

"Well, that's mighty sweet of you," Raylan said, it clearly not what he wanted to hear.

Bambi frowned and came to sit at Raylan's other side, tucking her legs beneath her since she was wearing a skirt. "What are y'all trying to get in for?"

"Arlo's inside," he told her, not seeing a reason to lie. "Say, you know anything about him running protection for your daddy while he was locked up?"

"No," she said softly before chuckling. "But that's a horrible business choice. Everyone knows what Arlo's like."

"That was my thinking," Raylan said, smirking.

Bambi tilted her head and looked between him, Art, and Terrance, who'd returned. "How y'all gone get in?"

"Tim's on the way. He has a membership," Art said, propping his chin on his hand. "But he's only just now leaving Lexington."

Bambi winced, knowing that was a long drive. "Well, only thing I can offer to help is company, I figure."

Raylan looked at her and smiled softly. "Well, you know you're the best company there is."

She nodded and got a bit more settled, ready to stick it out with the men. Besides, she was a little curious now since her father was involved. He'd been really present in her life as of late and yet still didn't let her get any hint of the criminal things he was no doubt planning.

"I got a question for you, Miss Crowder," Art said, leaning back on his hands as he looked at her. "One relative runs a crazy drug empire, one runs a crazy church in the woods that blows up meth labs. What's your crazy thing?"

"Art," Raylan sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Bambi just smiled teasingly at Art. "Being friends with Raylan Givens."

Art laughed heartily at that, nodding a bit. "Yeah, that's the craziest of all," he agreed.

"And if not that, then willingly teaching fifth graders," she added. Then she studied the Chief. "So, how you know Raylan? Heard you yellin' about Gynco."

"Well, we taught the newbies shooting together," he said. "So, he can always give you some pointers if you need 'em."

"Ain't no use. Girl don't even keep a gun despite who her family is," Raylan said, rolling his eyes.

"If I needed a gun, I'd get a gun," she said with a shrug. "I know perfectly well how to shoot them. Got a blue ribbon in every 4-H shooting competition."

Raylan raised an eyebrow. "Wow. A blue ribbon. Do you hang it on the fridge?" he asked sarcastically.

Bambi scoffed and shoved his shoulder hard, making him and Art laugh. "You know, you always say I'm a damn Crowder. And you're right. If I'm armed, I'm a hell of a time. Just so happened I wasn't armed at that gas station incident and when those thugs came at us at Helen's house."

He studied her carefully, looking for any hint of a lie or if she was just talking big to try and impress him. But she looked so calm and certain of herself. "Maybe I'll just have to take you to the shooting range to test that out."

"I ain't no good at a range," she said, shaking her head. "Daddy taught us on moving targets — animals before you go thinkin' the wrong thing."

"The clarification was somewhat needed," Art joked. "Now I'm itchin' to see a showdown between you two and Gutterson."

"Well, Tim's a sniper. That's different," Raylan said, knowing Tim would beat him if it was a far enough distance. But no one had a quicker draw than Raylan when it came to closer contacts. "And we wouldn't wanna go embarrassing Bambi now."

Bambi rolled her eyes and moved to pinch his shoulder. He scoffed as he squirmed and grabbed her hand, keeping her from doing it again.

"I could have you arrested for assault," he threatened jokingly.

She grinned and leaned in. "Then my daddy would kill you and bury you in a mineshaft where they'd never find your body."

Raylan's eyes widened at her overkill response. "Jesus Christ, Bambi," he huffed, shaking his head with a wry smile.

She just shrugged and leaned back as he freed her hand. "You know it ain't a lie either," she said, leaning back on her hands like Art, who was studying her. "You know, I'd help y'all if I could with him. In a heartbeat. But problem is that he knows that too."

"And we thank you for the sentiment," Art said. "Just keep being his sweet little girl and keep yourself out of danger."

"She lives in Harlan, Art," Raylan sighed, looking at Bambi softly. "She's always in trouble."

✵︎

It was real late by the time Tim made it all the way to Harlan. Bambi was tiredly leaning against Raylan's shoulder, who was happy to let her rest on him — his excuse was that she helped fight off the cold breeze. But as soon as Tim's black truck pulled up, all three of them got off the ground and headed toward him.

Bambi hung back, watching as Tim hopped out of the truck, looking so casual in a pair of stained jeans, a white tank top, and a red flannel shirt open over it. And as he walked, he almost swayed.

"We interrupt anything?" Raylan asked him as he walked past them.

"I've been off the clock since five, so..."

"You drunk?" Art asked, his narrowed eyes watching as Tim stepped up and off the sidewalk a bit.

"I was headed in that direction, till this detour," he muttered before looking up and finally spotting the third-wheel. Tim smiled at her, nodding his head a bit. "Evenin', Bambi."

"Howdy, Tim," she said, a little amused by his loose attitude.

"No admission, huh? Did you try flirting?" Tim asked while subtly winking at Bambi, which neither of the other men saw, making her cheeks flush.

"He was immune to my charms," Raylan joked.

"He said heroes only," Art added.

"Oh, okay. You show him your ass wound?" Tim asked while walking up to Terrance.

"No, I didn't think it was that kind of an evening," Art said as Bambi giggled, unable to believe he'd been shot in the ass.

"Evening, soldier," Tim greeted while pulling his military ID out to show him. "Uh, I didn't bring my cape. I'm guessing this will suffice?"

"Rangers, huh? Where did you serve?" he asked as Art and Raylan walked past toward the door.

"Afghanistan."

"No shit? We got a boy waiting to ship," he told him.

"Oh, great. Maybe he can buy me a drink," Tim muttered while walking in, Bambi following him.

"I'm sure I can buy you one," Bambi offered as they followed Raylan and Art to Arlo's empty table.

Tim grinned down at her, so clearly flirting with his next words. "Ain't it supposed to be the other way around? Me buying the pretty girl a drink?"

"Well, I'd like to think I'm a modern woman," she said, flirting right back. It made her feel giddy — she couldn't remember the last time someone had flirted with her.

At least someone with all their teeth or not connected with her father.

Pleased that she wasn't deterred by him, Tim couldn't bother to hide the smile from his face as they approached Arlo, not caring that it wasn't professional.

"How did you get in?" Arlo asked as Raylan stepped in front of him, followed by the others.

"Deputy Gutterson served in Afghanistan," Raylan said, nodding to Tim.

"He a mess-hall cook?" he asked mockingly as they all sat down, Raylan pulling out Bambi's chair for her.

"Sniper in the Rangers," Raylan answered.

"So, he's the shit."

"Mm-hmm."

"And you?" Arlo asked, looking to Art.

"Art Mullen, Chief Deputy."

"Have a seat with Bambi here," Arlo said, deciding he'd talk with them even though they'd already sat down. Then the elder man focused on Tim, still interested in him. "The Afghan war, huh?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded.

"'Yes, sir.' I like that. 'Yes, sir,'" Arlo repeated, chuckling. "So, what can I do for you all?"

"We're interested in Boyd Crowder," Art told him.

Arlo raised an eyebrow, glancing at Bambi. "Isn't he out in the woods, uh, running a revival or something?"

As Raylan laughed, Art replied. "Yeah, but we want to know if he's helping Bo Crowder and if Bo's reestablishing his businesses."

"Why would I know any of that?" Arlo asked defensively while nodding to Bambi. "She's the one sittin' in the bar he's running business out of every other night."

"Because you ran Bo's protection-and-collection business while he was in prison and Bambi didn't," Raylan accused.

"I what?" he asked, looking so surprised and astounded by the accusation.

Raylan raised an eyebrow. "You deny it?"

"Hell, yes, I deny it!" he snapped. "That's crazy. Why on earth would Bo do something like that?"

"Okay. We're done here. Bambi, come on," Raylan said, getting up.

Tim quickly cut in. "Mr. Givens, what we need you to consider—"

But Raylan, as frustrated as ever by his father, came right back, getting in Arlo's face. "What I'm supposed to say is, 'we know you ran Bo's protection racket into the dirt.' So it don't take a prophet to see the future from here. Okay, you can either sit around, waiting to catch a bullet... or..."

Arlo narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Or you can accept protection from the Marshals Service," Art told him.

Of course, it made Arlo laugh. "That's why you're here? I don't need protection."

"Yeah? What about Helen? You gonna forgive yourself if she gets caught in the crossfire, hmm?" Raylan asked pointedly, making Arlo actually hesitate.

"You are no longer welcome here. Any of you," Arlo said stiffly. Raylan huffed and moved to leave, but not before Arlo grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Tell the truth, you didn't honestly think you could turn me?"

"I came here as an officer of the law, because sometimes we have to make deals with lowlifes because we have our sights set on life-forms even somehow lower on the ladder of lowlifes than they," Raylan said lowly.

Slowly, Arlo stood to his full height before smacking Raylan, who didn't even flinch. Tim moved toward Arlo to do something about it, but Bambi held his wrist while Art pushed him back, both knowing it wasn't a good idea.

"Hey, hey," Art said to him softly so that he'd calm down.

Raylan just stared down his nose at his father, his jaw tight. "Now, Arlo... Use your words," he said condescendingly before walking off.

Bambi slowly eased after him as Art held out a business card toward Arlo. "Mr. Givens, we're taking down the Crowders. And you can either go with them... or not."

After he dropped the business card on the table, Art and Tim led Bambi after Raylan, all heading outside. But before Bambi could check to make sure Raylan was okay, all three Marshals' phones rang, which wasn't a good sign.

Bambi hung back against the wall, silently listening as they all received the same information. Two bodies had been found just outside of Harlan in the middle of the woods — likely the bodies of the men who worked for the blown up meth trailer.

"Be safe," Bambi told Raylan as he went to leave.

He smirked at her. "Surprised you're not begging to come with."

"You wouldn't let me," she said, shaking her head while she smiled. There was only so much she could get away with. "Besides, I gotta get walking home."

Raylan's smirk turned to a frown quickly. "You're walking back at this time of night?"

"Well, it was broad daylight when I came by," she reminded him while hiking her bag up her shoulder. "I'll be seeing y'all. Good luck."

"Now, hold on," Art said, just as displeased. "Now, how about Tim take you home before he heads back home? He ain't on duty anyway."

"Are you sure?" Bambi asked, looking to Tim. "I don't wanna inconvenience you."

"You're not," Raylan told her quickly. "Worrying about you would be more of an inconvenience."

"I was talking to Tim," Bambi said with a smile aimed at Raylan before focusing back on the skilled sniper. "Are you sure? It's your off time."

Tim just smiled and nodded. "Come on. And sorry in advance for how messy the truck is."

"Right. Well, bye Art. Bye Raylan," she said, waving to them before letting Tim lead her to his car.

"Text me when you're home, Bambi," Raylan requested.

Tim smirked at him over his shoulder. "What? You don't trust me with her?"

Raylan just chuckled and shook his head. "I don't trust nobody with that one there."

Bambi rolled her eyes as Tim opened up his passenger side door for her. "I'll try to take that as a compliment."

Once she was inside and buckled, Tim rushed around to the other side and got in, starting up the car. He pulled out right after Art and Raylan did, but Bambi had him turn right while they went left.

"It's just ten minutes down the road," she told him. Of course, that was ten minutes by car, but still. "Left at the next road. I could've walked, really. It was rude of them to offer you take me yourself."

"Well, I really don't mind," he insisted, paying close attention to the unfamiliar roads. "You ain't exactly bad company."

"I'm sure some of my family members would beg to differ," she joked. "Or Raylan if I catch him on a bad day."

"Nah, he's never say a bad thing about you. Trust me," he said, shaking his head. "Which is sayin' something because he loves sayin' bad things about people."

"Well, 'nough about Raylan," Bambi then said, turning in her seat a bit to look at him better. He was handsome, she was beginning to realize the longer she was around him. "What about you, Mr. Sniper? You really that good of a shot? You just hardly miss with a rifle or something?"

"I don't miss ever," he said casually, the corners of his lips turning up.

"That's pretty cool," she said. "You know, I heard about you taking out them boys helping Boyd the night he held Ava up. You grazed 'em and Rachel snuck right up on 'em afterward. Sounds like y'all were just as awesome as Raylan for shootin' my brother."

"Well, we know how to work as a team," he explained. "We're almost like a family sometimes. Makes this job so bearable every day given the stuff you see day in and day out."

"That's nice," she said softly, feeling a bit of longing. She didn't have much of a family if you didn't count Ava. "So, you like being a Marshal then?"

"I do," he nodded. "Like helping people and stopping the people trying to do harm. I think the good we do outweighs the things I don't like. Not to mention the rewards."

Her face scrunched up in confusion. "Rewards?" she asked before giving him the next turn.

"Yeah, rewards like cute school teachers bringing us cobbler," he said, looking at her for just a second to smirk at her. "That was delicious, you know."

Bambi's cheeks heated up as he flirted with her yet again, looking at her lap shyly. "Well, it ain't cobbler, but I've got some banana nut muffins inside if you're just dying for more of my baking."

"Now I'd never say no to that," he laughed.

The pair chatted simply for the rest of the ride, and soon, Tim was pulling up to the small farmhouse, smiling at her mailbox that was white and painted with black cow prints on it. And after he parked, Bambi invited him inside.

Just as Raylan had, he looked around, noting the small size and fun decorations and lack of weapons around — most everyone kept hunting rifles just lying around in their kitchens and living rooms.

"Cute place," he noted, leaning against a kitchen counter as she grabbed a plate and muffin for him. "How long you been here?"

"Just since August. Graduated college and came back here to teach," she explained, bringing him the snack.

"And you like it? Teaching?"

"With my whole heart," she grinned. "Going in every day and knowing that I'm changing those kids' lives is everything. You know, I don't know what kinda town you grew up in, but if it was anything like Harlan, then no one gave a lick about what we were learning in school and how well we were doing. It's lucky enough Raylan and I know how to read."

Tim chuckled, likely picturing an illiterate Raylan. "That's real kind of you to care about all them kids. And maybe it's just your first class, but I can tell you're just gone keep getting better at it with the passion you've got."

"I hope," she said before nodding to his plate. "Go on and try it."

Tim made a big deal of biting into the muffin and then throwing his head back and groaning like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten, which made her giggle happily.

"I changed my mind. Quit being a teacher and open a bakery right next to my house," he told her, only partly joking as he set the plate down.

"I'll consider it since my neighbor would be so nice," she teased before taking a bite of her own muffin. "Most everyone at the VA liked these, which is why I made them. I always prefer my blueberry muffins though."

"I've always been a strawberry boy myself," he confided before glancing at her lip. "You've got some..."

When he pointed to her mouth, she wiped at it, but then Tim just shook his head. Slowly, he reached down and brushed his thumb along her bottom lip, her cheeks burning as he got the crumb off for her.

"Thank you," she murmured as his touch slid off her. "I guess you got a long drive back tonight?"

"Not really lookin' forward to it given that I've been drinking," he admitted while rubbing the back of his neck. "Probably for the best I didn't let you get me a drink at the bar."

Bambi hummed and sat her muffin down, an innocent look in her eyes. "And uh, what if I offered you that drink now?"

Slowly, Tim grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, drawing her eyes to him. She eyed the tattoo on his chest, not quite making it out given that the white tank top covered it — she also figured she wouldn't understand, especially if it was connected to his time in the army.

"I'd tell you this was a dry town," he said teasingly. "But I would then tell you to make it a strong one."

"You got it," she said while backing away from him and toward the little cart where she kept all her liquor — there wasn't much. Only a few bottles that Ava and Johnny had gifted her for her birthday. "What'll you have? Vodka or whiskey or bourbon? Or I got beer in the fridge. Might be better if you're going home."

"Well, my drink depends," Tim said, a glint in his eyes.

"On what?"

"On if I'm going home tonight or not."

Bambi couldn't help but grin as she not-so-subtly slid her eyes down his seemingly perfect body — he was build like goddamn Captain America.

"Whiskey it is then."