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Breathing a sigh of relief, Tim stepped into the welcome warmth of the villa he'd called home for the last decade. Winters in Milan were just as harsh as the ones he'd endured in America, but the warming up here was so much more enjoyable. And that was all down to Hawk.
His love kept a roaring fire going almost constantly through the winter. And he leapt upon the excuse of the cold for all but plastering himself to Tim as soon as they walked through the doors. Not that his beloved ever needed an excuse - he was Tim's to cuddle every hour of the day and night.
After the rewarding but mentally draining study group he'd just had, the thought of snuggling into Hawk was nothing short of heavenly.
Speaking of his lover, Hawk usually greeted Tim within seconds of the door closing. Tim's cool lips protested their remaining unkissed.
"Hawk?" Tim called, looking around for brilliant blue eyes and that beautiful "welcome home, Skippy" smile. "Hawk? I'm home!"
Silence greeted his call. That was unusual. Hawk despised a quiet house - too many memories of the mausoleum like silence of his childhood home - and always had the radio or a record playing if Tim was out for the evening.
What he wouldn't give for the familiar strains of Doris Day, Frank Sinatra, or Johnny Mathis.
Tim frowned at his watch, a burble of worry coursing through him. He knew it was late, but Hawk always stayed up for him.
Properly beginning to worry now, he absently hung his coat and hat up on their hooks. Relief burned through a fraction of Tim's worry; Hawk's coat was exactly where it had been when Tim had kissed him and ducked out the door to the study group he'd been late for.
So Hawk hadn't gone out. Which meant...
Tim made his way through the villa to their living room, dropping his books and things onto a side table as he passed.
"Beloved?"
The gently crackling fire and the record that had spun itself into silence greeted Tim as he entered the spacious room. Warmth from the fire enveloped him like a hug, easing the lingering chill from his body. But, he only had eyes for the couch.
Laid out along the cushions, one of the novels he denied reading face down on the table, was Tim's lover. His Hawk.
His handsome face was relaxed in repose, losing the few lines of tension their lives here gave him. That soft hair curled onto his forehead, Tim's fingers itching with the need to brush it away, feel the silkiness against his skin.
He knew Hawk considered himself the lucky one, having Tim in his life. But, moments like these, Tim knew the truth was the reverse. Not that Hawk was unlucky to have Tim, rather that Tim was rewarded beyond measure to be allowed to love Hawk.
Looking at his beloved now, asleep on the couch, Tim felt luckier than ever.
Tim's favourite flannel shirt rose and fell with each of Hawk's gentle breaths, sparking a surge of possessiveness so deep in Tim's chest he hardly knew what to make of it.
Hawk was his. Belonged to Tim as much as Tim belonged to him.
Looking at Hawk, wearing his shirt, Tim wanted to shout it to the world, proclaim it from the very highest point. Hawk was his. And, God did Tim love him.
Much as he wanted to yell it to the world, he wanted something else far more.
Tim knelt down by the edge of the couch, close enough to see the almost invisible laughter lines around Hawk's closed eyes. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Hawk's forehead, breathing in the scents of his shampoo and cologne.
"I'm home now," he whispered tenderly, unconsciously echoing Hawk from so many years before.
"Skip?"
Hearing his name, uttered so instinctively in Hawk's beautiful, sleep rough voice, Tim's heart soared.
Could there be no depths to how much he loved this man?
"Hey, bumblebee," Tim smiled, running his hand through Hawk's hair. "You look cozy."
"Hmm," Hawk agreed, blinking his eyes open. They shone at the sight of Tim, love beaming at him from Hawk's very soul. "Time is it?"
"About ten," Tim replied, Hawk's eyes fluttering closed again as he continued playing with his hair. "You feel asleep."
Hawk's lips curled in a fond smile. "I will if you keep on."
"Comfy as this couch is," Tim said, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from Hawk's hair. "If you're going to sleep, I'd rather you do it in our bed."
"In a minute," Hawk agreed, shifting a little upright. Not so far, though, that he moved away from Tim. "How was your study group?"
"Busy," Tim shrugged; there wasn't much else to say. "I'm hosting it here next time."
"Is that code for make yourself scarce, Hawk, or make lots of snacks, Hawk?" Hawk teased, awake enough now to kiss Tim in greeting.
Tim drew the kiss out, luxuriating in the feel of Hawk's lips against his own after hours apart.
Slowly pulling away, Tim found himself unable to remember what Hawk had been teasing him about.
It didn't matter. Hawk settled back against the back of the couch, lips red and tempting, clad in Tim's shirt.
Tim's fingers plucked the warm flannel, teasing, "Isn't this mine?"
Hawk regarded the red flannel shirt, a smile curling his lips. "No."
"I think it is," Tim replied, committing the sight of Hawk like this to his memory. He'd draw him later. "But it looks better on you."
"It's only fair," Hawk murmured, nodding at the sweater Tim had pulled on in his rush out of the door. "All my clothes look better on you."
Tim ran a hand down the dark wool, smiling unconsciously. He'd liked being out in Hawk's clothes, liked the statement it made - if only he knew he was making one. That he belonged to Hawkins Fuller.
And the thought of those words brought his mind back to Rehoboth.
"Hey," Tim protested, drawing Hawk in for another kiss. It wasn't entirely Hawk's fault his mind went where it did. "Stop distracting me."
"I would never, angel," Hawk replied, choir boy innocent. His studied innocence was rather ruined by the jaw-cracking yawn that broke free.
Watching Hawk's nose wrinkle in annoyance at himself was utterly adorable. Just like sleepy Hawk himself.
"Come on," Tim smiled, unbearably fond. "Let's get you to bed."
There was no early start tomorrow, but the sooner they slept, the more time they'd have for lazily cuddling in bed. And, other things too.
Hawk yawned again, taking Tim's hand to let him lead him up to their bed.
They undressed languorously, taking more care with the others clothes than they did their own.
Eventually, Tim crawled into bed beside his love, accepting him into that perfect space in his arms. Hawk fell asleep almost instantly, snuggling himself into Tim's chest. Tim lasted but a little longer, kissing the top of Hawk's head before falling asleep, snuggled with his beloved.