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No matter how many months or even years he spent with Hawk, Tim knew he'd never really get used to how spontaneously romantic his love was. Tim had always known that Hawk was capable of romance - he'd always been so sweet to Tim, even when he was getting him to do things for him, to say nothing of deliberately outing himself to the M Unit last Christmas. Yet, Hawk constantly surprised Tim with his romantic side.
Tim had come home later than Hawk, having to stay late to work on their Christmas show with a few of their colleagues. Hawk had kissed him goodbye as he'd left that night, telling Tim not to come home too late. Teaching had come upon them unexpectedly, but they both loved their jobs and getting to see each other every day at work as well as at home was lovely.
Almost as lovely as Hawk.
Tim walked through the door, immediately hit with the scent of a home cooked meal. There were candles on the table, one of Hawk's jazz records playing softly in the background, and Hawk was in the kitchen, working away at the meal he was making.
Leaning against the door, Tim watched Hawk cook. He'd cooked for Tim once, back in Washington, but this was so much more. Hawk looked so at ease here, moving about the kitchen he'd personally designed, his hair gently curling, a blue bordered teatowel slung over his shoulder.
Tim could have watched him for hours, relaxing into the moment, letting the strain of an overlong workday melt from his mind and body. There was something so right about domestic Hawk; a sight that was Tim's and Tim's alone.
"Hi, Skippy," Hawk called, setting a pan away from the burner. "How was the meeting?"
"Long," Tim sighed, pushing off the door. "We're still debating whether Romeo and Juliet is too heavy for a Christmas production and if we should go with Much Ado instead."
Tim shook his head, not wanting to ruin the moment with shop talk. So, he slipped in behind Hawk, wrapping his arms around his waist. Hawk leaned back slightly, Tim helpless but to drop a kiss to his neck. And then several more.
"Smells good."
Hawk turned in Tim's arms, pressing their lips together in a proper hello. As they parted, he cupped his hand against Tim's cheek, eyes soft with concern.
"Need me to glare some sense into our colleagues?"
Tim shook his head. He didn't need anything but Hawk, right now, exactly as he was.
"I can get you a bath," Hawk offered, that sweet concern still soft in his eyes. "There's more than enough time."
Though tempting, Tim preferred taking his baths when he could entice Hawk into joining him. There was something about the combination of warm water and Hawkins Fuller that made any other bath afterwards seem woefully lacking.
Hawk shrugged easily, checking something in another pot (that smelt heavenly, of course), Tim leaning back on the kitchen table just to watch. And listen.
Tim's love drifted about the kitchen, softly singing along to the record on the turntable, his voice calling to mind many evenings like this; cooking together, dancing around each other while one or both of them sang along to the music they'd put on.
It was the kind of domestic bliss Tim had never thought he'd have. The kind Hawk had given him the minute he'd swept Tim off his feet and borne him away to their new home.
Tim was standing before he realised it, his hand held out towards Hawk. "Dance with me?"
Hawk glanced into the only pot still simmering away on the cooker, nodding slightly to himself. "Always, Skippy."
Tim drew Hawk over towards the back door, the cooler night air carrying a breeze into the kitchen. Here, the music was a little muted, but they had all the space in the world. Hawk took Tim into his arms, smile unguarded and warm; the unpolished, slightly crooked smile that was Tim's alone.
Tim raised their joined hands, idly kissing Hawk's knuckles as they swayed. Sinatra was crooning something about one for the road, but the lyrics didn't matter. Hawk's arm was tight around his back, his lips were so close and kissable, his hair so soft under Tim's free hand.
Their feet barely even moved as they swayed in place, more cuddling upright to the music than actually dancing. But Tim would never complain. This was perfect. All of him was touching all of Hawk and, though they were fully clothed, the moment was intimate, the rest of the world falling away. He didn't even need to kiss Hawk, though he did, chaste presses of their lips; another way they were joined, as if heart and soul weren't already enough.
Hawk pulled away first, smile shining through his eyes, their noses rubbing together in a different, no less tender touch.
"I love you."
Hawk's head tilted, watching him with adoring eyes. Tim saw his smile, that disbelieving little smile that questioned how he'd ever been this lucky.
Tim personally thought that he was the lucky one, but he'd never argue with Hawk. Those blue eyes were his undoing every time.
"I love you too, Skippy."
In the background, the song changed, soft strings promising something more romantic than a torch song.
Hawk said that Tim was the only one with a beautiful voice, often asking him to sing to him when they were in bed, cuddled together as close as two people ever could be. But Tim loved Hawk's voice; loved it through the phone, across a crowded bar, low and possessive in bed, even soft and shy as he sang.
Maybe Tim was feeling selfish, asking for more when Hawk was already giving him everything, but he couldn't help it.
"Sing for me?"
Hawk's eyebrows jumped, an automatic refusal forming on his lips. Yet, he pulled Tim closer, lips brushing against his cheek then drawing up and across until Tim could feel his breath against his ear.
"My love is ever you, my love," Hawk sang, soft and low and intimate. "Now and forever you, my love."
Tim's heart melted in his chest, love overflowing at the raw emotion in Hawk's words.
If he didn't know better, he'd swear his love had orchestrated this very moment. It was too perfect for coincidence.
"You walked into my lonely world," Hawk's hand brushed over Tim's cheek. "What peace of mind your smile unfurled."
Tim obediently smiled for him, nuzzling against Hawk's hand.
Hawk's eyes glistened, swaying Tim closer, tighter.
"Yes and because of you, my love," Hawk pressed their lips together in a fleeting kiss. "My wishful dream came true, my love."
Tim felt Hawk's heart beating steadily against his palm, his own matching the familiar rhythm. Every beat promising all they love they shared.
"In my uncertain heart, I am only certain of how much I love you, my love."
Hawk's liquid eyes met Tim's. All Tim could see was the love Hawk showed him every day. The love that cAme through in every touch, every kiss, every cup of coffee in the morning and shared sandwich at lunchtime.
"In my uncertain heart, I am only certain of how much I love you, my love."
The record spun to an inevitable stop, but they didn't. Tim was lost in Hawk, unable to do anything but kiss him, hoping Hawk could feel how much Tim loved him. Because he was, after all, the great love of his life.