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Two single beds, luggage pushed out of sight at the feet of them. Not the image Hawk had allowed himself to dream when he thought of taking Tim to New York. But recent events being what they were, this was the best Hawk could do. Subtle, unobtrusive - and, at least they were together.
That had been a near thing after Tim's Christmas Day bombshell to his family. They weren't overjoyed about the idea of Tim quitting a perfectly good job at the State Department just to go galavanting about overseas. Hawk's mother, on the other hand, had seemed relieved - not that she'd said more than two words to him when he'd explained.
He had Tim, though, and that was all he would ever need.
And, he would do everything in his power to make sure Tim never regretted choosing him over everything he could still have had here.
The trouble was getting Tim to accept the things Hawk wanted to give him.
"I don't know when we'll have another chance," Hawk whispered, cupping Tim's cheek tenderly. "I am not having us start our new life with broken promises."
"But, Hawk," Tim protested, tilting his head to kiss Hawk's palm. "It's too much."
"No," Hawk disagreed softly. "It's not nearly enough."
Tim shook his head, tenderness shining from his soul. "Hawk..."
"You can say no, Skippy," Hawk reminded him softly. "We'll just stay in. Go sightseeing tomorrow. Get some rest for our flight."
"But you've already bought the tickets," Tim guessed, giving Hawk that sweetly irritated look. The one that protested his extravagance. Hawk gave a little shrug, innocent as a lamb. "You're too good to me."
Hawk choked on air, coughing slightly. "I don't think that's anything anyone will ever accuse me of, angel."
To date, he'd led Tim into sin, made him do ugly things, made him quit his job, and was now in the process of making him leave anyone and everyone he'd ever known to run off overseas and actually live in sin with Hawk. Being too good to him was nowhere in there.
Tim's eyes set with a steely determination. "Then it's a good thing we don't care what anyone thinks of us anymore." He leaned in, bestowing a sweet kiss to Hawk's lips. "Take me out, Mr Fuller."
Hawk reluctantly stepped back, collecting his coat from the single bed he was ostensibly supposed to be sleeping in that night. "Anything for you, Skippy."
Standing a respectable distance away from each other, Tim and Hawk joined the crowd of people entering Radio City Music Hall that night. The crowds were a little lighter than the last time Hawk had been to see the show, the main attraction in the city tonight taking place in Times Square.
Hawk spent far longer than was safe (even for them, even now), watching Tim. His Skippy's eyes were wide, glasses glittering in the light, taking in everything with that eager curiosity that had been one of the many, many things that had made Hawk first fall in love with him.
"Good surprise?" Hawk murmured, leading Tim into the concert hall.
"You said you were taking me to a play," Tim hissed, giddiness overriding any playful irritation. "Hawk, I..." Tim trailed off, his expression saying everything the law wouldn't let them say in public.
"I know," Hawk replied softly, risking a brush of their fingers that could be passed off as accidental. "Me too."
They took their seats, giving the acts of their lives pretending that they were just two relatives spending New Year's Eve at the spectacular.
Sitting there, as the lights began to dim, Hawk wished for a better world. One where he could reach out and take Tim's hand, could kiss the look of wonder off his gently pouting lips. One where he could actually take Tim here before Christmas and show the entire prejudiced world that he loved him more than any other creature on God's earth.
"I know it's not exactly Christmas any more," Hawk whispered, his voice lost in the droning hum of the other patrons waiting for the show to begin. "But-"
"It's perfect," Tim assured him, beautiful brown eyes shining. "Better than I ever imagined."
"The show hasn't started yet," Hawk teased, forcing his smile to remain that slightly aloof not-quite smirk that was acceptable to bestow on another man. He hoped Tim could read the truth of it in his eyes; how happy he was to be here with him, the relief that his Skippy liked the surprise.
"I don't need it to," Tim shrugged, confession honest. "We're here."
As if that was the best part of his dream becoming a reality. That the two of them, albeit distantly, could sit here together and enjoy the show that was about to begin. Not exactly a Christmas in New York, but a New Years was just as good.
Hawk could have happily spent the rest of his life watching Tim watch the Rockettes. The soft gasps and content sighs passing his lips as the Rockettes kicked and danced across the stage were music sweeter than the numbers performed for them. Tim's expression of sweet wonder - eyes wide, lips slightly parted (as if waiting for a kiss) - was a sight far richer than all the beauty before him.
If either of them were to give themselves away that evening, it would have been Hawk. Again. He just couldn't tear his eyes away. Even in the dimness of the hall, Tim seemed to glow. It was all Hawk could do to even glance at the Rockettes at all.
Every now and then, Tim turned away from the show and to Hawk. Their gazes locked and Tim gifted him with the brightest, sweetest smile. A smile that was all Hawk's. The light in Tim's enchanting eyes reminded him of only days before, when his Skippy told Hawk that he couldn't bear being that happy.
Under the cover of a particularly energetic number, Hawk leaned in close to Tim. "Are you happy?"
Tim turned away from the kick line, his heart unguarded on his face. "Beyond measure."
Tim's hand touched his knee, finger tracing words into the fabric of Hawk's trouser leg. As I love you.