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Some days, Tim wished he could pinch himself. Just to reassure himself that he really was allowed to be this happy. Four years ago, he'd been so alone. So caught up in hiding who and what he was, in blindly supporting McCarthy and fighting Communism. Now, he'd stopped participating in the fight against Communism, but he didn't have to lie about who he was and who he loved any more. Now, he got to wake up every day next to the man he loved, secure in the knowledge that nothing and no one would be able to tear him from his side.
It was a heady feeling, one he still wasn't used to. One part of him hoped he never would be.
Tim wiped the final crumbs of toast off his fingers, stepping out into the warm spring morning. The post lay on the front deck, abandoned some time between arriving home from work and the flurry of kisses they'd exchanged all the way inside. Their Villa, once a rundown shell they'd bought for far better than a bargain was now a warm and inviting home, their home. It wasn't on the water, not like Hawk had once dreamed, but it was theirs. All theirs, and no bigoted Washington bureaucrat could take that away from them.
The faint sound of one of Tim's Doris Day records drifted on the air from the living room, one of the few traces of home he'd brought with him. Tim flipped through their mail, setting the bills onto the table. That left only one, an envelope postmarked Washington DC.
Tim tore it open, smiling wistfully at the photograph of Marcus and Frankie taken inside the Cozy Corner. He read the short correspondence as he walked back into the kitchen, following the scent of coffee and Hawk's intoxicating cologne.
"Marcus and Frankie aren't coming again this summer," Tim announced, skimming back through the rest of the letter. It was the same as usual; brief paragraphs written by Marcus, keeping Hawk up to date with the pulse of DC; and longer, sprawling anecdotes about the Cozy Corner and the people they'd left behind from Frankie. "Frankie's thinking about a new number for the club." He glanced up, frowning at the newspaper where his lover should be. "Hawk, honey? Are you listening to me?"
"Marcus and Frankie are staying in Washington," Hawk confirmed, lowering one corner of his paper. He met Tim's fondly exasperated gaze with an easy smile. "I always listen to you, my love."
Tim resisted the urge to hum dubiously, sometimes he was sure Hawk deliberately chose not to listen to him. Usually about the social engagements he'd prefer they miss - and various mundane housekeeping chores. Not that Hawk didn't do more than his fair share around the villa, but he had little patience for the minutiae of certain things.
Like shopping. Hawk was a brilliant cook but a terrible shopper.
"In that case, we need to go shopping, the Andersons want us for dinner again next Friday; and-"
Hawk groaned softly, hiding behind his paper again. "The Andersons are trying to set me up with their daughter."
Tim laughed, unsympathetic to Hawk's plight. Really, it was what he got for being so handsome and so charming. "It's a pity they don't realize they'd have better luck setting you up with their son."
Although, if they tried, Tim was only too willing to scratch his face off for even thinking about coming after Tim's man. Not that Hawk would ever cheat on him, but it was the principle of the matter - they were both possessive.
"Not anymore," Hawk corrected, smiling brighter than the spring sun. "I'm a taken man."
Tim was helpless but to smile back, sliding his hands down Hawk's chest. "And you'd better take your equally taken man out shopping before both of us starve." He pecked him on the cheek, grinning at the way Hawk leaned back into him with a contented sigh.
"You know it's my day off."
Tim made a noise of sympathy. "Have you got plans, honey?"
Hawk gave him that look that said he knew Tim was teasing him and he didn't care. "I was intending to stay home with you and not leave our bedroom until dark."
"That's how we spent last weekend."
"That's how we spend most weekends, Skippy," Hawk reminded him, eyes darkening with intense promise.
"Well, this weekend, we're going shopping." Tim patted his chest, kissing his cheek once more. "Now, come along, love. You're escorting me to the market."
"Yes, my love," Hawk capitulated, shaking his head in exasperation. "Let me grab my keys." He paused, seeing the photograph of their friends resting innocently on their kitchen table. "They look happy."
"Happy enough," Tim conceded, heart aching at the thought that their friends still had to hide. "Do you think we would have been?"
Hawk raised a shoulder in a small shrug. "I think we are now," was what he said. His love hadn't lost his knack for political obfuscation.
Tim knew Hawk didn't think they'd be happy now if they were back in Washington. And part of him couldn't help but agree.
Hawk smiled softly at him, so relaxed in his skin. "Those people we would have been if we'd stayed, they're very different people. I like who I am now."
"Me too," Tim replied, letting Hawk draw him into a sweet kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too, Skippy."
"I know," Tim smiled, because he did. Of course he did. The very fact that they were here was proof every day. "Now, we're going to miss the market."
"There's no distracting you today, is there, Mr Laughlin?"
Tim shook his head, grinning at Hawk's slight pout. "Not right now, Mr Fuller."
"Well," Hawk purred, bright blue eyes darkening to indigo. "In that case, you won't mind if I try."
Tim felt his breath catch in his chest, resistance crumbling around him. This man. "You're incorrigible."
"I'm irresistible."
Truer words were rarely spoken. He was irresistible and breathtakingly handsome, and Tim's - all Tim's. And Tim had been hopelessly lost to him at least since that day on the bench.
So, they arrived at the market an hour or so later than Tim had intended.
He got his revenge by giving Hawk a necessarily perfunctory kiss on the lips and sending him away to get the food items while he wandered around for fun and picked up the other necessities not on Hawk's list.
Tim strolled by a stall filled with fragrant flowers, debating whether Hawk would lovingly tease him for bringing them into their home. Every now and then, Tim did like giving Hawk those opportunities, especially delighting in the ones that made him call him sweet. He lifted a rose to his nose, sighing at the scent. They reminded him of his mother's garden, the hours he'd spent weeding and mowing the lawns.
Tim closed his eyes, letting the flowing sound of Italian ground him back in reality. Italian was a beautiful language, even more so when Tim could listen to Hawk speak it. But, close by, Tim's senses twitched as he picked up a very familiar accent. American.
It wasn't that Hawk and Tim were the only Americans in Milan, not by a long shot, but after so long in the city, Tim knew most of the Americans living there, even if only by sight and sound. It was as much of a habit as it was a preservation thing - even here, where it was legal, many of their countrymen didn't exactly appreciate the way he and Hawk led their lives. Not that they could do anything about it, but Tim tried not to cause any trouble - Hawk had already given up so much to build a life for them here.
Tim turned, following the sound of American accented Italian - almost as good as his own after three years of living here.
Standing at a stall, examining the silk scarves that fluttered softly in the breeze was a woman Tim had only ever seen once. Her brown hair was partially hidden by a hat, and her sundress looked far more elegant than anything Tim could ever wear, but she looked out of place. Incongruously American in the sea of Italian style.
If Tim wasn't very much mistaken, and he very rarely was, Lucy Smith was in Italy.
Common sense would tell him to walk away, to spare both of them the awkwardness of meeting. Yet, Tim didn't feel that was the right thing to do.
Hawk had chosen Tim, just as Tim had chosen Hawk. It was both the easiest and hardest choice they'd ever make - loving someone for the rest of their lives. One they made every day, gloriously accepting it as the sun cast it's golden light over their lives.
But, in choosing him, Hawk had given up the family that he had loved so much. Lucy's father had been important to Hawk, more of a father to him than his own. His love hadn't even pretended to hide now much it had hurt him to have to leave without saying goodbye, even more so not to be allowed to return for his funeral.
Perhaps, if Tim could just have one minute with her, he could reassure Hawk that Lucy had been okay after it all. That he didn't have to worry about her any more.
"Miss Smith?"
"Hello," Lucy frowned, too polite to tell Tim she didn't remember him.
Not that Tim blamed her. They'd met a grand total of once, and she'd never known that he had been her rival for Hawk's affections. She had no reason to remember him like he remembered her.
"We met at a party in Washington, about four years ago?"
"I'm sorry," Lucy began, all well-bred politeness. "I don't-"
Whatever she was about to say, Lucy never had the chance to. Hawk appeared from behind one of the fruit stalls, his bright gaze fixed entirely on Tim. Even after three years, it was an overwhelming thing to have all of Hawk's attention in public.
"Skippy," he called, muttering a soft excuse me as he made his way to Tim's side. "Did you want orange juice or lemonade this week?"
Hawkins Fuller, a man who had once been able to scheme ways to topple entire political careers, chose to be sweetly domestic with Tim. Just when Tim thought he couldn't possibly love him any more.
Tim turned, an apologetic wince already on his face. He could see the minute Hawk noticed Lucy, his eyes blowing wide with surprise.
"Hawk?" Lucy called, delight suffusing her face.
"Lucy," Hawk greeted, surprise lurking just under the charming warmth of his voice. "What brings you to Milan?"
"Honeymoon," Lucy replied, smile bright and giddy. She flashed the diamond ring on her finger. "I got married. Congressman Williams, from Maryland."
Hawk didn't so much as blink, his eyes just filled with honest warmth. "Congratulations."
"Thank you." Lucy's smile softened a little, turning curious. "Why are you here?"
"Oh," Hawk chuckled, eyes a brighter blue than the Mediterranean sky above. "I live-"
Tim watched as Hawk visibly stopped himself, his gaze falling softly on Tim. There was no other term for it other than to say pure love shone from within him. He'd refused to hide it from the very moment they'd stepped off the plane.
"We live here now."
Lucy's mouth fell slightly open, Hawk's sudden resignation probably making a lot more sense.
"This is Tim Laughlin," Hawk introduced, Tim noting how hard he was fighting to stay unaffected. "My, uh," Hawk cleared his throat, lips forming words his voice didn't utter.
Tim stepped in, ready to introduce himself as Hawk's colleague, his friend.
Hawk wasn't ashamed of them, he knew; they had a life together that more than proved it every day. But, that didn't make it any easier to be discovered by the people they knew from their old lives. Didn't make voicing their truth any easier. Tim couldn't imagine how he would react if his parents or - God forbid - his grandmother arrived unannounced.
"Tim is the man I love," Hawk blurted out, eyes hardening with a familiar defiance. That stubborn insistence not to be sorry about who they were that had seen them through the earliest days after his resignation. "He's the man I love," he said softly. "I'm sorry, I should have-"
"No," Lucy demurred, a little shocked but not running away screaming. Not calling for an exorcist as Hawk often joked would happen if they ever told Tim's family. At least not anyone aside from Maggie. "You have nothing to apologise for. I'm happy with my life." She peered intently at him, as if trying to see into his very soul. "Are you happy?"
Hawk smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to Tim's cheek. "Beyond measure."
Lucy's gaze went soft, reassured by the easy intimacy that couldn't lie.
Tim looked around, scanning the market for another American presence. "Where's your husband?"
Pride shone from Lucy's eyes. "He had to stop by the consulate, check in on things back home." Lucy winced, as if regretting bringing up the life they'd both left.
Hawk dismissed her concern with an easy smile. "Washington never sleeps," he commiserated, leaning a little towards Tim. As if he just couldn't help himself. "I can't say I miss the late night phone calls, the never ending telegrams."
"The endless paperwork," Tim added, uncomfortably flashing back to the many, many reports he'd had to type out. Over and over again. "The hearings."
"You used to work for Senator McCarthy," Lucy announced, recognition lighting in her eyes. "Hawk introduced us." Her smile turned almost apologetic. "I was sorry to hear about his death."
Hawk scoffed; "I wasn't."
Wide-eyed, Tim turned a horrified gaze on his lover. "Hawk!"
Tim still vividly recalled the day they'd heard about McCarthy's funeral. Hawk had been so happy, he'd - well, that was between the two of them and their bed. But, Hawk had been very enthusiastic that day. And, even occasionally, in the days since.
"I'm sorry, Mrs Williams," Tim tsked, fighting back his grin (and his blush). "I can't take him anywhere."
"And yet you insist on me coming shopping with you," Hawk retorted, laughter sparkling in his eyes. "That's on you, my love."
Tim narrowed his eyes, certain he looked far too smitten to ever be annoyed. "I'll remember that."
"Now I'm in trouble," Hawk groaned, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Somehow I doubt that," Lucy replied, watching them with a veiled kind of amusement that reminded Tim a little of how Marcus used to look at them. Like she didn't know quite what to make of them, of this new, freer Hawk. She looked between them, noting the bag hanging from Hawk's free hand. "I'm keeping you?"
"Shopping day," Tim explained with a little shrug. "I can finish up if you want to keep catching up."
Lucy glanced at the dainty watch on her wrist, a soft sigh leaving her lips. "I have to meet Ted for lunch."
Tim watched Hawk smother the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes. He wouldn't push - Hawk thought he'd lost all right to do that - but Tim could. "You'll have to come by the villa sometime."
"Villa?" Lucy's tone was intrigued. Tim might almost have said impressed."
Hawk smiled, as he always did at the reminder of their fulfilled dream. "It's a little... Rustic, but it's ours."
Rustic was an understatement. For the first nine months, they'd slept on a mattress on the floor, spending all their money fixing up the roof, the kitchen, the plumbing - pretty much everything about the villa. But it had been worth it.
"Professore Fuller!"
Hawk sighed, gaze drawn away towards one of the parents they both dreaded dealing with. "Hide me."
"Sorry, honey." Tim smothered a chuckle. "You've been spotted."
"When we get home, remind me to reevaluate the reasons I love you," Hawk muttered, meaning precisely none of it. He pecked Tim on the cheek and uttered a sad farewell to Lucy, trudging off to meet his fate.
"I should go too," Lucy announced before the silence between them could get tense. "It was lovely meeting you, Mr Laughlin." And there was no trace of polite lie in her voice.
"And you, Mrs Williams," Tim replied, meaning it just as much as Lucy had.
For the sake of the friendship she and Hawk once had, Tim couldn't let it end like this. As a meeting between three people that would be a funny story to look back on.
Tim wrote down their address in the notebook Hawk always carried around, tearing out the page and handing it to Lucy. "I can't imagine your husband will come, not to the home of people like us, but you're always welcome."
Lucy frowned at the paper, peering suspiciously at Tim. She had no reason to like him or ever trust him, considering he had been the one Hawk had indirectly left her for. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because you're family to Hawk, and he's missed you very much."
"In that case," Lucy favoured Tim with a smile as warm as the one she bestowed on Hawk. "I look forward to taking you up on your invitation." She stared over towards where Hawk was calmly explaining something to the very involved parents of one of their students. "Tell Hawk it was good to see him again. I'm glad he's happy."
Tim watched his love, noticing the tension that had vanished from his shoulders. A worry removed from the many he'd burdened himself with. "He's glad you're happy too."
Later, as they laid together in their bed, trading kisses in the afterglow, Tim held Hawk close and listened to him breathe. "Are you happy?"
Usually that was Hawk's line, reassuring himself that Tim didn't regret the choice to leave America with him, to build their life together. Tonight, Tim needed to hear it for himself; to reassure himself that Hawk didn't regret his choice, even though he knew he didn't. Seeing Lucy had been good for Hawk, but he had been preoccupied all evening.
"Tim," Hawk uttered, immediately serious with the use of Tim's name. "Nothing in the world makes me happier than being with you. I love you, Skippy."
Tim lovingly booped his nose, kissing the top of his head. "I love you too, Hawk."
Hawk propped his chin up on Tim's sternum. "I'm happy I got see Lucy," he explained, eyes distant again. "Knowing she's happy now, I can stop feeling like I failed her father." Hawk smiled sadly. "He wanted us to marry more than anything. But I'd choose you in a million lifetimes."
Tim kissed him, pouring every ounce of the overwhelming love he felt into it. "I gave her our address," he said softly, the taste of Hawk sweet in his mouth. "I hope she'll come visit you."
"Us, Skippy," Hawk corrected, smile sweet and warm. "You're the biggest part of my life, I want Lucy to get to know you. And for you to get to know her too. Even if I know you'll just tease me mercilessly."
"We love you," Tim grinned, heart so full it felt like it could burst. "That's our prerogative."
"And I love you," Hawk smirked, eyes darkening impossibly. "My prerogative is to do this..."
Tim met Hawk's lips halfway, both perfectly happy to show the other exactly how much they loved one another. Very, very enthusiastically.