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It was early evening when Hawk stopped by the cabin.
The crisp air followed the opening of the door and Tim watched as a leaf or two trailed behind Hawk, who was holding assorted bags in his arms. Silently, he began unloading various groceries with his back turned. A part of Tim softened as small delicacies were placed on the counter, his favorites from over a decade ago.
As Hawk’s back shifted under soft flannel, Tim ripped his gaze from Hawk and returned back to the book he had found on a stray shelf; he was stuck rereading the same paragraph over and over until the words turned to mush. In truth, Tim had not relaxed in days.
Life as he had been living it felt fuzzy and undefined; nowhere in his wildest imagination would Tim have ever expected to be wanted by the FBI for destruction of government property and kidnapping. It was hard to believe that once upon a time, Tim saw himself as a priest who loved God above all else.
“Do you still like turkey?” Hawk called from the kitchen leaving Tim’s concentration broken.
“Yes,” Tim replied softly after a thought. “I haven’t had it in a long time, though.”
Hawk looked over. “I can promise you that it hasn’t changed much since you’ve had it, Skippy.”
Tim watched as the last parcel of food was put away, and he could not help but notice the over abundance provided. Hawk had even bought fresh fruits and vegetables.
“I ate a lot of potatoes in the army,” Tim said. “If you brought any into this cabin, I promise things will get ugly.”
Hawk laughed. “Scout’s honor, no potatoes shall pass the threshold of Corporal Laughlin.” He easily found a glass to fill with tap water before making his way to the couch to sit next to Tim with a turkey sandwich plated and placed on the table. “Does the ‘Father’ go before or after Corporal? Priesthood may come before national honor, but I’m not too sure.”
“They’re just labels, I cannot imagine when it would be necessary to need the distinction for me.”
“Labels, sure,” Hawk said after taking a sip from the glass. “You always seemed fond of being labeled as mine, however.”
Tim gave a sad smile. “I always thought I’d just be Skippy to you.” He stopped himself from admitting to Hawk that being his boy was the one delineation that felt holy. “Seems like lately none of the words fit, I don’t know who I am right now. Especially with how things change.”
Hawk placed a hand on Tim’s knee and he felt equal parts chilled and sated at the touch. He knew touch from Hawk was dangerous, but something in him howled for any kind of contact after so many hours of pain in the army and abstinence in the Church.
“You’ll always be my Skippy,” Hawk whispered. “If nothing else, that will be true.”
Branches outside shifted from the autumn breeze, but Tim could not see them through the closed curtains. He looked down at the sandwich. “You can’t promise that,” he said.
“I can,” implored Hawk as he leaned forward into Tim’s space, “you were my Skippy the first moment I saw you, before anything else.”
“Before war, you mean.” Tim clenched his fists into his knees. “Before I was on the run from the law, before I tried to get over you. Before I became inconvenient.” He let out a watery chuckle. “For God’s sake, Hawk, I haven’t been that man in a long time. That person is a distant memory, nothing about that version of me feels real to who I am right now, hiding out in your cabin and facing fourteen years in prison and waiting for you to find time to sneak away from your wife and children.”
“Skippy-“
“I can’t sleep with the windows down anymore, I prefer the sudoku in the paper instead of the crossword, music doesn’t sound the same, I am not that person anymore! Hell just looking at that god damn turkey sandwich is making my stomach turn!” Tim stood abruptly and walked to the sink, hands braced with his head hung as he counted his breaths.
Orange sunlight bled through open stitches and Tim took deep inhales and deep exhales. Mindlessly, he tapped his fingers to a rhythm of only to ground him. He heard movement behind him, but Tim allowed himself the time to collect himself.
One of the things he tried the hardest to get over was his bleeding heart; there were too many times in the army where the overwhelming nature of the situation would push Tim over the edge. Many encounters with Hawk ended with an explosion of emotion on one side and a calm disregard from the other. All emotions felt too strong, too extreme for every situation he found himself in. Inside his bleeding heart festered a desire for belonging, seeking a guide; if there was one title Tim felt comfortable claiming, it was that of a follower.
Suddenly, the crackling of a record sounded and Tim brought his head up to listen to the words.
I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start a flame in your heart
He slowly turned his head to see Hawk, bathed in setting sunlight, a soft smile on his face with his hand extended towards Tim.
“Dance with me,” he said softly.
In my heart I have but one desire
And that one is you, no other will do
Tim, instinctively, stepped towards Hawk, before stopping. “Hawk, I don’t-“
“You said music doesn’t sound the same,” Hawk cut in. “I figured.. it doesn’t have to sound the same. Let’s make it sound better.”
Tim swallowed and after a moment that felt more pivotal than any other moment in his life, he stepped towards Hawk.
I've lost all ambition for worldly acclaim
I just want to be the one you love
And with your admission that you'd feel the same
I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of, believe me
The prowling creature within Tim wanted to pounce Hawk and his invitation for touch. Tim knew all their touches were loaded, the last time they had dared to do something like this almost shattered him completely.
“I don’t know if I should,” Tim admitted.
“Sing for me, then.” Hawk grinned wider. “I won’t let anyone stop you this time.”
It all seemed so easy when Hawk laid out the plans, even ones that only benefitted himself. The way he reminisced on the past could have felt mocking if it weren’t for the golden light he was bathed in; Tim stopped himself from squinting against the heavenly glow as he thought to himself, look homeward, angel.
Hawk had told him once that he was home when he was with him, in more or less one desperate kiss. It was another title to add to the long list gained from a life of searching, no longer just an aspiring priest or a corporal or a Catholic boy from Staten Island.
And Tim, the helpless follower doomed to seek salvation until it killed him, fell in line.
I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start a flame in your heart
“I’m not singing, by the way,” Tim said as Hawk’s arms carefully came to rest on his hips. The two of them came together easily, as though no years were left unsaid between them at all.
“Come on Skippy,” Hawk chuckled back. “I remember you singing in the shower back in the day.”
“Believe it or not, the army didn’t take too kindly to that tendency of mine. Nothing breaks a habit faster than the threat of physical labor.” Tim slowly placed his arms over Hawk’s broad shoulders, intertwining his fingers behind his neck. “Besides, the acoustics in the barracks left much to be desired.”
After a long moment of Hawk searching Tim’s eyes, he sighed deeply, pressing his forehead to Tim’s. “God I missed you.”
I don't want to set the world on fire, honey
I love you too much
I just want to start a great big flame down in your heart
The two of them swayed to the music, foreheads pressed and eyes closed. Neither one of them felt the need to speed up the pace or let their hands wander; Tim moved his face to bury it into Hawk’s neck as he inhaled the scent and committed it to memory.
Hawk’s arms tightened around Tim’s waist. “My Skippy…”
Tim felt himself become boneless in Hawk’s arms. The sun fell deeper and deeper into the horizon and even once the record had long ended, Hawk and Tim continued to sway to their own beat.
They knew time was not on their side, the world was not on their side, life itself was not on their side. There were too many things left to untangle between the two of them for this moment to reach any kind of crescendo.
But the curtains were drawn. Hawk knew exactly where the water glasses were, and there was fresh asparagus in the fridge.
Tim allowed himself to believe it was enough, just for the night.