Work Text:
When Tim hears the doorbell ring, he immediately senses who is going to appear on the other side. He doesn't rush to greet him, it's not his party after all. He bets Frankie would much prefer it to be him, though.
What was supposed to be a New Year's celebration for all the 'sad and rejected' (Tim wouldn't use those words to describe his own condition, but Frankie insisted) turned into a regular friendly get-together as soon as Marcus found his common sense and apologized for being an asshole. A happy couple was back on good terms, and all their friends, especially the single and lonely ones, were once again forced to watch them with jealous glances.
If there were two people more deserving of happiness than these two, Tim had yet to meet them. However, knowing that 2019 would begin with him standing alone in his tiny corner made him feel a little worse about himself in general and his catastrophic lack of a love life in particular.
"I could have made that my New Year's resolution," he told Frankie a few days ago in an apologetic tone. "To meet more people?"
"I'd tell you what your resolution should be, but you'd get defensive," he responded, not even looking in Tim's direction. Yet, Tim knew he wasn't getting out of this conversation before Frankie spoke his mind. "It starts with 'Stay away' and ends with 'from Hawkins Fuller."
"I am not—"
"See? Defensive already."
The worst part of it all was the fact that Frankie was right about everything he said.
Tim should have stayed away from Hawk from the beginning when he felt his strings being pulled. Tim was defensive about it, and for no apparent reason too. He felt like there was something there. He, as embarrassing as it was to admit it, found himself daydreaming about the man he was supposed to be getting strictly business benefits from. He couldn't stand how full of himself he seemed, but he couldn't stop staring every time he entered the room either.
He knew that Frankie had cursed the day Marcus had decided to suggest Hawk as a reliable source of political insight for their non-profit. He might have been reliable as a friend to Marcus, but he had been anything but reliable as a partner. Tim tried his best to push him but to no avail. So far. He was never one to give up easily.
"Mr. Fuller," he smiled, saluting Hawk with a glass of champagne as he entered the room.
"Mr. Laughlin," the grin was returned immediately.
"Hawkins?"
"Timothy?"
It was all wrong, but accompanied by a playful smile, it was the most perfect greeting one could wish for. A second later, Hawk was interrupted by another introduction and just as quickly lost in the attention of the other attendees as he entered the hallway.
Tim sighed and returned to the news feed on his phone. It wasn't like he was going to get any more adrenaline tonight, other than the rush he gets from another Fox News bullshit update.
—
When Frankie's friend picks up a guitar, the small crowd that has gathered in the living room starts to cheer a little, throwing song suggestions their way. By this point, everyone is already a little tipsy, getting to know each other better, and ready to say goodbye to 2018. Tim cheers, too.
He finally has a reason to cheer: one thing led to another, and he ended up sitting on the armrest of a sofa, chatting the night away with Hawk. The man of the hour, immediately drawn into one conversation after another, came back to him with not just a glass, but a whole bottle of champagne to share. Since then, their glasses have never been empty, and Tim found it especially hard to shut up. He thought he was rambling, repeating the main principles he stands for to Hawk, but the man looked up at him as if in awe.
In awe of the cause, Tim decided to think so as not to be too disappointed.
...in awe of the way his cheeks were already blushing after three glasses of champagne, and his intense persuasive gaze could easily have been mistaken for a seductive one; that was the real answer. Hawk just wasn't in a hurry to offer him an explanation.
"Hozier?" Tim doesn't think too much about throwing his suggestion into the mix. He doesn't expect it to override the one hundred and twenty-first Taylor Swift request. He even turns back to Hawk, ready to pick up the conversation on the same page it was left, but then he hears first accords.
"Oh."
That's an "oh" to say the least. Between downright depressing and disturbingly metaphorical love ballads, you'd expect to hear a song from the second category. Yet it catches Tim off guard.
I had a thought, dear, however scary
About that night, the bugs and the dirt
Tim gives the singer a reassuring smile and starts to swing a little to the slow melody. He loves the song, even though it's not the usual choice for a gathering like this. On the one hand, that is. On the other hand, Hozier writes for the girls and the gays, and Tim doubts there's anyone else in this group of people anyway. Just for a second, he lets his eyes land on Hawk, who's just as comfortably seated beside him. Tim is surprised again when he mouths the lyrics to the chorus.
He must be staring at this point because Hawk looks back at him with a mischievous smile and a raised eyebrow.
"Just didn't think you were a Hozier type of guy," Tim mumbles in response, but his attempt to save himself from another embarrassment falls flat.
"And what kind of guy did you think I was?"
"I don't know, it's too-"
"Come on," Hawk looks around the room, reading the mood.
The light is dim. Some people, like Tim, are swaying to the melancholic music, a few are coming out in couples to dance. Some are not bothered by the song at all, continuing their discussions or stepping it up a notch and finding much more pleasurable pursuits for their tongues. Couldn't ever be Tim, he thinks. Too passionate about everything he adores, including the music, to ignore it completely.
Hawk agreed to try and help the organization for Marcus' sake, but ended up elbow-deep in the most disgusting political shit for a completely different reason. A completely different person, too. No relationship drama his dear friend has brought upon himself could have made him go to such lengths, but a good person who truly believed in change – could.
Both Tim and Hawk were thinking the exact same thought at the exact same moment. Hawkins Fuller wasn't the one inviting other men to slow dance to one of Hozier's hits. Tim accepted it and looked at the few couples moving around the room with the tiniest bit of envy. Hawk, on the other hand, decided to take it as a challenge, just like he had taken all that had to do with Tim up to that point.
He stands up, leaving an open bottle of champagne near the sofa, as well as his empty glass. As he stands next to Tim, it suddenly feels as if the distance, which was small to begin with, has become nonexistent. Tim picks up Hawk's question with a quick turn of his right hand and a sly look all across his face; he nods in disbelief even before the question is asked aloud.
Why were you digging? What did you bury
Before those hands pulled me from the Earth?
They don't walk right into the middle of the room, but their unlikely match alone is more than enough to attract attention. Usually hidden in the shadows, Tim doesn't mind at all. Frankie's burning look is the only one he wishes he could avoid, but he knows it's usually directed at Hawk anyway. Besides, he quickly realizes how easy it was to hide his embarrassment in Hawk's gentle embrace.
For some reason, when Tim imagined their first– Well, their first anything beyond charity work, he thought it would be rough and passionate, with Hawk leaving faster than he could find his glasses on the nightstand. Slow dancing is the opposite of that. They're barely touching, with Tim's palms resting on Hawk's shoulders and Hawk's thumbs drawing circles on Tim's waist. And yet it feels more intimate than any scenario involving far less clothing and far more skin-to-skin contact.
"Have I surprised you yet?" Hawk asks quietly, getting just low enough for his breath to tickle Tim's ear.
"A little," Tim admits in response, smiling softly. "Were you planning on surprising me?"
"Yes, but I thought it wouldn't be the dance that would do the trick."
There is a pause. Tim can tell by the mischievous sparkle in Hawk's eyes that he wants to keep him on his toes a little longer. He waits patiently, a hopeful look on his face. When Hawk lowers his head again and comes closer to his face, Tim swears he can count every line around those magnetic blue eyes. He closes his eyes when they are only an inch apart; his heart beats hard against his chest.
I will not ask you where you came from
I will not ask you, neither should you
He must have even parted his lips slightly in anticipation of the kiss, because when Hawk's voice hit his earlobe again, he forced them shut quicker than he could register what he was saying. Now that was a surprise he hadn't expected in a million years.
"I talked to Walter, your papers for the grant will be reviewed first thing in the new year," Hawk murmured into his ear. "If everything checks out, you'll get the money before February."
Tim freezes, pulling away from Hawk, trying to guess how serious he is about all this. But he is serious, and he does look extremely pleased with the reaction he's caused, and Tim doesn't have nearly enough willpower to call him out on it. Because that's exactly what he's been asking for the past few weeks. He knew the papers were correct, and it was only a matter of time before they got approved, but time was a luxury they couldn't afford with so many people already relying on them.
If Tim was surprised by the dance, this revelation leaves him completely stunned. He tightens his grip on Hawk’s shoulders, gets slightly closer for a small hug, and smiles at him so brightly that he could light up the whole room.
"Thank you! You have no idea how— Oh, shoot, I have to tell Frankie, he was putting this whole program off just because we didn’t have enough— I'll be back in a second!"
Overcome with excitement, Tim takes a step back, scanning the room around them to find Frankie in the crowd. He fails to do so, as Hawk distracts him again, gripping his arm.
"Wait, just one more thing."
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips
We should just kiss like real people do.
This time around, Tim doesn’t suspect anything. He’s sure to hear some additional conditions from the government or some changes in regard to the sum. Yet he doesn’t hear that. He doesn’t hear anything at all but only feels Hawk’s breath on his lips, and lets him into the kiss a mere second later. It’s very soft, tastes like cigarette smoke mixed with the sweetness of Asti, and ends with just a brush of Hawk’s tongue against his own. Tim isn’t usually the one to be too eager for physical contact, but this time around he wants nothing more than to frame Hawk’s face in both of his hands and kiss him for so long that their lips go numb. Ending it on such a tease feels like a worse torture than not having one at all.
"You are full of surprises," Tim is blushing profusely as Hawk pulls away from his lips.
"Go talk to Frankie, you know where to find me."
—
This time around, Tim enters the new year sitting in the far corner of the room again. The only difference is, that he sits on the Hawkins Fuller’s knee, feels his hands all over his body, and gets lost in kisses way before midnight comes.
If he could think straight and make a wish, he’d probably ask for something to help make the world a better place. But, the truth was, the world already had its Tims and Frankies, Marcuses, and even Hawks, and, for as long as they were as eager to fight, it would’ve moved forward anyway.
The only wish that Tim was able to make, completely dissolving in Hawk, was more.
And Hawk was happy to ensure he'd get way more of whatever he asked for in the New Year.