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A soft breeze fluttered gauzy curtains, filling the air with the familiar salty tang of the sea. Hawk stretched idly in bed, Tim's warm breath ghosting against his shoulder. It was early still. Too early for him to be awake, especially considering how late they'd gotten in last night. But, Hawk had always been an early riser, in Washington perhaps more so than now. Old habits died hard, though, and Hawk was too selfish to entirely give this one up. Wakening early, waking first, meant Hawk was treated to the most precious sight in the world: his Skippy sleeping.
No matter where they were - Washington, Rehoboth, New York, Milan, Rome, or now here in Naples - watching Tim sleep was a gift. Golden sunlight bathed him in a glow like some enchanting creature out of legend; hair falling over his forehead, face impossibly young in his sleep. If Hawk had one complaint about these moments, it would be that he couldn't see Tim's soft, doe eyes and the way that love shone from them whenever they looked at Hawk.
It was all Hawk could do not to wake him, to ruin that innocent slumber with hundreds of kisses dropped on those tempting, cherry red lips. Any other day and Hawk might risk the adorably frowny grumpiness of his love just awoken, might reach for the camera never far from his bed and capture Tim's beauty for eternity. He had certainly done so far more times than he knew Tim thought entirely sane ("how many photographs do you really need of me, Hawk? I'm not going anywhere"), but he had no intention of stopping.
Tim retaliated of course - they were equals in obsession as much as everything else. Hawk had lost count of the amount of times he had woken in the middle of the night; lamplight shining in the room, Tim's pencils scratching over paper as he drew him in his sleep. Hawk had gone out and bought him a Polaroid, hoping his sweet angel would use that instead of wasting his sleeping hours sketching Hawk.
Tim had kissed him and called him sweet, and then gone right on sketching Hawk in the middle of the night. Hawk pretended to mind more than he ever could; finding the little drawings Tim left scattered around their Villa warmed his heart just as much as hearing Tim's love every time he called him beloved. Each one was a reminder that Tim was there, in his life, that he had chosen to come and to stay and that there was nowhere else he would rather be than sharing this life with Hawk.
Tim made a soft noise in his sleep, nestling closer to Hawk's shoulder. If it were possible for someone's heart to grow even larger in their chest, that was what Hawk's did. How it was possible for him to love Tim so much, to fall even deeper every minute of every day, Hawk would never know.
Maybe it was like Tim's faith. He didn't have to understand why to know it was real. And it was. Real as the nose nuzzling close to his collarbone, real as the way his heart skipped a beat every time he saw Tim's beautiful eyes. The realest thing in his life - once the only real thing he had.
"Good morning, angel," he whispered, brushing the words across Tim's forehead.
He could lay like this, keeping Tim safe and sheltered in his arms, forever. But, his vacation wasn't quite as obligation free as Tim's. He'd brought along some paperwork he had to go through before the new school year, knowing all the while of course that there was more than a good chance he wouldn't finish it all before they returned home. Still, Tim deserved his uninterrupted sleep (he'd need it with everything Hawk had planned for him), and this was the perfect opportunity for Hawk to at least try and remember he'd once been a professional.
As with every time Hawk had to remove Tim from his arms, Hawk leaned in and pressed his lips to his forehead. It was as much for him as it was for his Skippy; filling his senses with Tim's clean, fresh scent, indulging in an intimacy they'd shared since their first night together. A way for him to say I love you when he'd still been too scared to say the words out loud. A way for him to continue to show Tim how he felt in the way that meant most to him.
Easing Tim back onto his own pillow, Hawk spared a moment to just stare, committing every inch of Tim to his memory. His beautiful, perfect love.
"Hawk?" Tim murmured, still almost completely asleep. His hand reached out, eyebrows pulling together in a disgruntled frown when Hawk's skin didn't meet his questing hand.
"Shh, sweetheart," Hawk breathed, pressing his lips once more to Tim's forehead. "I'm here." I'll always be here. "Just sleep."
Tim's nose scrunched, protesting as much as he could with sleep still wrapped around him. Hawk kissed the wrinkle above his nose, drawing the covers up over him.
"Sleep," he cooed, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm here and I love you. Just sleep."
Tim hummed, a soft little sound in the back of his throat. "Love you," he said, rousing just long enough to say that, then snuggling back into his pillow, completely asleep.
Hawk marveled at his love a moment more, then reluctantly tore himself from the cozy nest of their bed.
The upside to the cozy size of the room they'd been able to afford for their week here, was that no matter where Hawk set himself up to work, he had an uninterrupted view of his Skippy. And endless supplies of the soft breeze drifting in from the sea. One helped keep his head clear, the other - well, it was lucky Hawk had had a year to get used to working alongside Tim every day. He could - with some effort - concentrate on his work. And if he happened to glance up occasionally , well Work Hawk never had to deal with the temptation of Tim naked in his bed. Even when Hawk had been pretending to be the epitome of State Department morality and respectability, he wouldn't have been able to keep his eyes away from that sight for too long. Hawk allowed himself a second to watch the covers rise and fall with Tim's deep and even breaths, then returned to the words he'd failed to read for about ten minutes now. And he wouldn't look up again until he'd finished this file. Probably.
"Are you going to read those all day?" Tim's voice was a pout, cutting through Hawk's concentration.
Hawk glanced idly at his watch, amusement curling through him. "It's barely nine o'clock, Skippy."
"Barely nine o'clock on the first real day of our first vacation together, Hawk," Tim reminded him, lifting the papers from Hawk's lax grip. "A boy might start to think you didn't want to come with him."
Settling back in his chair, Hawk allowed his lips to curl in a warm smile. "Well, we can't have that."
Tim shook his head no, eyes shining brighter than the sun.
Hawk beckoned him closer with a crooked finger. "Come here."
His angel didn't even hesitate, settling himself on Hawk's lap as he had done so many times before.
"Sleep well?"
Tim hummed, still soft and warm from their bed. "You?"
"Of course," Hawk replied - he never slept badly when he spent the night with Tim. All the nights they once habitually spent apart, yes, but never once with Tim.
His Skippy sighed softly, eyes flickering pointedly to the papers and empty coffee mug sitting before them.
"You can't even sleep in on vacation," Tim murmured, lovingly chiding. "That doesn't bode well."
Hawk laughed, wrapping his arm more securely around Tim's waist. "If I'd stayed in bed, Skippy, neither of us would have been doing much sleeping."
Tim rolled his eyes, smile fond. "Does the phrase fuck like rabbits ever not come to mind for you, beloved?"
"With you, me and a viable surface?" Hawk grinned wickedly, making a show of thinking that one over. "Never."
"You," Tim decreed, tapping the tip of Hawk's nose. "Are incorrigible."
Hawk nipped after Tim's finger, claiming his lips in playful retaliation. "And you love it."
"I do," Tim agreed, drawing Hawk back in for a leisurely kiss.
Hawk was content just to let Tim kiss him, sinking into the sweetness of it as he always did. As far as he was concerned, he could gladly spend the rest of his life just doing this; being kissed by Tim and kissing him back, lost in the taste of him.
Eventually that irritating need for air forced Tim to pull back, gaze sweet on Hawk. "What are our plans for the day?"
Hawk grinned, unable to help himself. "I think the phrase is-"
"Hawkins Zebadiah," Tim warned, eyes sparkling.
Hawk laughed, holding his right hand up in surrender. "No need to start that, Skip."
"You started it," Tim retorted, fingers toying with the hairs on the back of his neck, tugging idly on the curls Tim refused to let him gel into submission. "What would you like to do?"
"Be with you."
Tim gave him that look - fifty percent disappointed, fifty percent exasperated. " Hawk ."
Hawk sighed through his nose. He really did just want to be with Tim. "I suppose I'd like to swim," he offered, a conciliation to the light frustration on Tim's face.
Tim stared at him for a long moment, reading the sincerity in Hawk's eyes. Then, quick as it appeared, the shrewdness was gone. Tim smiled, a brilliant flash of teeth and warmth and joy.
"Good," he hummed, rewarding Hawk's cooperation with a sweet peck on the lips. "Because I'd like to go to the beach."
Hawk had a flash of Tim on another beach; beautiful and passionate and sad. It's who we love , he'd insisted - the straw that ended up breaking the camel's back.
Though he'd promised it got easier, lying got harder for even Hawk after that. Until he just gave up entirely. And now, here they were: vacationing together in a seaside paradise. His chance to make up for how he'd acted at Rehoboth.
"If you want a beach, my Skippy," Hawk announced, gently lifting him off his lap. "Then a beach we shall find."
Tim climbed stubbornly back onto his lap, fingers threading into Hawk's hair. "In a bit," he decided, pressing himself into all Hawk's empty spaces. "I was deprived of my morning snuggles."
Hawk wrapped his arms around Tim, holding him as close as he dared. With Tim in his arms and Hawk's nose in Tim's neck, all thoughts of Rehoboth fled his mind. Holding his love, Hawk was content enough almost to sleep, losing track of everything except Tim.
With one thing and another, they hadn't made it to the beach until after lunch. Hawk and Tim had shared lunch in the sunshine of a little outdoor cafe, Tim tempting Hawk into trying bites of his while Hawk coaxed Tim into sipping an espresso that made his nose crinkle so adorably. He could even lean across the little table and kiss Tim right there in broad daylight - and nobody cared. They just went right on about their lives - eating lunch at the tables beside them, going shopping, walking in the street, coaxing children away from running too fast.
They held hands as they walked down towards the public beach, Tim swinging their joined hands between them; his smile so bright beneath the reflective lenses of his sunglasses. A little bag was slung over his shoulder - their towels and the book Tim insisted on bringing along concealed within. The two of them, off to have a date on the beach - Marcus would never believe him capable of such domesticity.
Hawk raised his camera with his free hand, pointing it towards his love. "Skippy," he called, Tim humming softly as he turned back to Hawk. Hawk captured him just like that - easy smile, hair falling into his forehead, so relaxed in his own skin.
Tim rolled his eyes, obligingly rolling the film forward with his free hand so Hawk wouldn't have to let go of him. "You and your photographs," he chided, pressing his lips swiftly to Hawk's cheek all the same. "We could paper our bedroom with them by now."
Hawk hadn't considered that, but now that the idea was before him-
"Don't even think about it, Hawk."
"It's a nice thought, Skippy," Hawk teased, mostly to watch Tim huff in exasperation.
He was treated to the loving why do I put up with you? sigh, Hawk reminding Tim exactly why with the simple act of intertwining their fingers together. You love me .
Spending their first day at the beach was a stroke of genius. Tucked up in their own little paradise just outside Milan, Hawk often forgot how much he loved the sea. Hearing the waves roll in, tasting the salt on the air, feeling the heat of the sand under his feet, the way the sun danced off the water stretching endlessly out in front of him. Hawk stood on the beach, breathing in the sea air, feeling the faint spray against his skin. Tim busied himself behind him, spreading the towel out, claiming their spot.
Putting his back to the crystal blue waters, Hawk was treated to Tim's indulgent smile.
"Go," Tim laughed, nodding towards the waves.
Hawk was tempted just to run headlong into the water, but- "Are you coming?"
"Later," Tim promised, sinking onto the green striped beach towel. "I've got a chapter I want to finish."
Hawk tossed his sunglasses down beside Tim, catching the cheeky kiss Tim blew him.
"Go on," his love insisted, shooing him with a wave of his hand.
Hawk stayed just long enough to watch Tim pull out his book, pointedly ignoring him with an ease that Hawk might be offended by if it wasn't so charming. Then, with one lingering glance at Tim's enraptured face, he pivoted and raced into the cool embrace of the Mediterranean.
The water was divine, warm enough to feel pleasant yet cool enough to be refreshing after the relentless heat of a Mediterranean summer. Hawk cut through the water, revelling in the pressure of the waves. There was a kind of peace to be found here, removed from the laughter and excited chatter of his fellow beachgoers; just him and the sea and the birds circling overhead. And, of course, that faint tether reaching from his heart, reminding him that Tim was there, waiting for him on that golden sand. Feeling it, Hawk wasn't pressured to follow the tug, just continued his easy strokes, his body supported by the water surrounding him.
The slight ache in his shoulders told Hawk he had swam long enough. He turned with the next wave, letting it help carry him back to shore.
He'd been in the water a while, long enough for the beach to fill up with more families making the most of the summer day. Small children ran along his path, kicking a ball between them, laughing as they raced after one another. So young, so innocent; free to grow up here, to be whatever they wanted to be whoever they wanted to be with. Hawk wondered if he'd been that happy as a child (no), or if Tim had - running about Staten Island with his sister Maggie and their legions of cousins. Hawk hoped so: hoped that Tim had hundreds of memories like that, all as happy and golden as he deserved.
A glint from further up the beach directed Hawk's attention back where it belonged. Tim stood just in front of their towel, handsome face obscured by his Polaroid. Several photographs were held in his hand, more undoubtedly safe between the pages of Tim's book. His Skippy, the sneak photographer.
Making his way towards him, Hawk stopped a couple of times, posing just dramatically enough to make Tim's vibrant laughter fill the air.
Tim's bare toes scrunched in the sand, making idle patterns in the golden grains. Hawk trailed his gaze up Tim's bare legs, over his almost indecently short swimming trunks, across the muscular line of his torso, and up until he reached Tim's smiling face. Tim lowered his camera, absently removing the photo from the slot.
Reaching Tim, Hawk leaned in to press his lips to Tim's. In deference to the families around them, he kept it chaste but loving, pulling back just far enough to watch Tim smile.
"You brought your camera?" Hawk tried not to sound surprised, but he knew he failed.
Tim shrugged, nonchalant except for the blush tinting his cheeks. "I don't have time to sketch you, and I don't want to forget a second of this."
Hawk caught the meaning Tim hadn't meant to infuse his words with - that uncertain longing, a fear that still clung to them both from time to time.
Hawk moved closer, shaking the lingering droplets from his hair. "You won't," he promised, pressing his lips to the rise of Tim's cheekbone, to the tip of his nose, the softness of his lips. "This isn't a dream, angel."
"It feels like one," Tim confessed, eyes so soft it ached. "How else can I be so happy?"
"Because you're sweet and good ," Hawk smiled, nudging Tim back down to the towel so he could sit by his side. "Because you're my Skippy."
"Being yours makes me worthy of happiness?" Tim asked, soft smile saying he'd accept that.
"Being you makes you worthy of everything," Hawk corrected, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "My Skippy."
"My beloved," Tim returned, voice as tender as his smile.
Hawk settled back on the towel, the sand warm under his calves. With the sun beating down on him and Tim's sure presence at his side, Hawk felt peaceful. "If I fall asleep, wake me."
"I'll do no such thing," Tim promised, running his fingers up and down Hawk's arm. "You're on vacation."
"So are you," Hawk reminded him, though he let his eyes fall shut behind his sunglasses. He didn't sleep so much as he dozed - falling in and out of the lightest slumber, always reassured by Tim beside him.
Jolted from his latest doze, Hawk watched Tim kick a ball back to a group of kids that wouldn't look out of place attending their school. The boys thanked Tim in cheery Italian, Tim coming to stop just in front of their towel. Hawk feigned sleep, peering through barely open eyes at his love.
With his back to the ocean and the sun, Tim was safe to remove his sunglasses, looking at Hawk without the filter of the lenses. He looked so soft, so… in love, Hawk could hardly breathe with it.
Since he could hardly grab him and do all the things that sprung so vividly to mind in so public a setting, there was only one recourse available to him.
Hawk tossed his sunglasses beside Tim's, jumping to his feet in one swift move. Tim's eyes widened, instinctively taking a step back. Sweet Skippy, as if that would stop him.
Taking a running start, Hawk lowered himself just enough to sweep Tim up and over his shoulder. Tim's hands found his back, gentle in their touch even now.
"Hawk!" Tim laughed, squirming only a little against his shoulder. "Hawkins Zebadiah Fuller, you put me down right now."
Hawk would, right then and there if he thought Tim actually meant it. But he knew better. Tim's voice was laughing and bright - he didn't mind one bit at all.
"Sure thing, Skip."
Hawk carried Tim the final few steps to the ocean, diving in with Tim in his arms.
Tim surfaced, laughter shining under his scowl. He shook his head, droplets of water flying every which way. Hawk leaned in to kiss him, tasting the salty sea water on his lips.
"You are lucky I love you." Tim proved his words, brushing Hawk's wet hair off his face.
"Yes, I am," Hawk agreed, utterly sincere.
They floated there together, treading water close enough for Tim to tap his nose gently. "Menace."
If it was a menace his Tim wanted, then a menace Hawk would be. Giving Tim warning enough to choose to swim away (he didn't), Hawk sent a small wave crashing over him.
Tim shook his hair out of his face, eyes sparkling. "Swim, Hawk."
Hawk laughed, darting in to press the most fleeting of kisses against his salty lips. "Come get me." With those words, he was off, Tim swimming after him in laughing pursuit.
It was nice. To play. To chase and be chased. To stop every now and then and share playful splashes and all too brief kisses. To be childish and silly. To know that not a single person - on the beach or in the water - cared. Eventually, Hawk let Tim catch him, accepted the triumphant smile on Tim's face, the slightly more lingering kiss he gave him. Allowed Tim to lift him, to toss him gently into the waves.
Hawk's previous exercise sent him back to the beach far sooner than his Skippy, Tim content to indulge himself in the sea. He lay on the beach a while, letting the heat of the day dry his skin. Tim had brought a few magazines for Hawk to flip through, but none of them held his attention. He was perfectly content just to watch Tim float in the water, shining so brightly against that deep blue sea.
Beautiful was often the word Hawk used to describe him. But that was truly too tame a word. Ethereal might work, if it didn't seem to poetic for Hawk's sensibilities. Ethereal he was, otherworldly and perfect - and he'd chosen to be Hawk's.
Hawk rescued his camera from the depths of Tim's bag, strolling down to where the waves kissed the shore. Tim was floating there, amidst the waves, eyes closed. He looked so serene, almost ageless Hawk knew he'd look back on this memory and wonder if it was happening now or at any one of their many vacations here in the future. Tim's fingers played idly in the water, tracing patterns through the waves.
Even if Hawk hadn't intended on photographing Tim like this, he wouldn't have been able to help himself.
Tim heard the shutter snap, his lips curling in a gentle smile. "Hi, beloved."
"Hey, Skippy," Hawk replied, smiling down at him.
Tim's eyes opened, raw emotion taking Hawk's breath away. "I thought I'd hidden that."
"I know all your hiding places, my love," Hawk announced, snapping a quick photo of Tim's disgruntled face. "And you didn't make it very hard for me."
"I never will," Tim promised, swimming over to Hawk. His stomach grumbled, a blush staining his cheeks.
"Dinner?" Hawk asked mildly.
Tim rolled his shoulders, reddening after the best part of an afternoon spent in the sunshine. "Shower first," he decided, wrapping his arm around Hawk's waist. Hawk just hummed, content to follow Tim's lead.
After dinner at a restaurant one of their colleagues had recommended, Hawk stepped out onto the small balcony attached to their rooms. The air was a little cooler now, the heat of the day given way to the breeze from the sea. An almost full moon shone down on him, bathing the night in it's silvery glow. Tim was back inside their room, making them some tea to have before they inevitably fell to one another's endless charms. Hawk leaned against the railing, letting the sounds wash over him. Tim, the street below, the radio playing softly in the apartment beside their own. Familiar, comforting, safe.
The view wasn't much, just the archetypal Mediterranean buildings, but Hawk was enraptured just the same. His first official night on his first open vacation with the man he loved - Hawk couldn't help but fall in love with everything he saw.
Tim's soft footsteps padded out onto the balcony, mugs clinking as they settled on the table.
"You're happy here," Tim said, a trace of uncertainty in his voice that gave Hawk pause.
"Hmm?" Hawk turned away from the view, finding one far more exquisite.
"In Naples," Tim continued, smiling through a flash of sadness. "You're happy."
"I'm with you, Skippy," Hawk replied, honest as he never knew he could be. "Of course I'm happy."
Tim smiled again, a little less melancholy. "But this was your dream," he insisted, as if Hawk's dream hadn't evolved the moment he'd fallen for Tim. "A place by the sea. Complete personal freedom."
Hawk closed the short distance between them, laying his hand against the side of Tim's face. "Skippy," he said, infusing his voice with all the sincerity and insistence he could. "Angel, I don't care where we live. Milan, here, Venice, Rome, on the moon for that matter. The only thing I need to make me happy , is you."
Hawk would say it every day for the rest of his life if he had to. If that was what it took to remove that uncertainty from Tim's eyes. Tim always surprised him though. Melancholy disappeared as if it had never darkened his eyes, replaced instead with such a sweet light it could only be love.
"Hawk…" Tim breathed his name, soft and reverent, as if Tim truly couldn't believe his fortune.
"I love you, Timothy Laughlin," Hawk said, letting it sound as it was - an unshakable fact of the universe.
Tim didn't say it back. He didn't need to. It was there in the way he kissed Hawk's forehead, so soft and tender. Even more so in the way he held him, conveying everything in the slightest touch.
Some little while later, still entwined in one another's arms, Hawk pressed his lips to Tim's temple. "So, Skippy," he began, purposely light and teasing. "What are we doing tomorrow?"
Tim shrugged a little, tracing a pattern on Hawk's chest. "I promised Grandma Laughlin I'd visit the churches."
Hawk's eyebrow rose, playfully incredulous. "All of them?"
Tim tapped his chest, laughter bright on his lips. "Hawk."
"Fine, Skippy," Hawk sighed, not bothering to do anything about the smile hurting his cheeks. "Tomorrow we can go to church."
Just as he had done when they'd first arrived in Milan, Tim turned wide eyes on Hawk. "You don't have to-"
Hawk silenced Tim with a look. It was the look he'd given him back then too. The one that said nobody made Hawk do anything he didn't want to do. "If you're going, then I'm going with you, sweetheart."
Tim watched him, soft all over again. "You know," he began, tone lightly musing. "There is one thing we haven't done nearly enough today."
Hawk knew that tone, felt his lips curl in response. "Really?"
Tim nodded eagerly, tugging on Hawk's hands. "Come to bed, bumblebee."