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Outside the Cozy Bean, Tim paced back and forth nervously. It was possible that he was a little early for his maybe/not quite/kinda/possibly date, but Tim liked being prepared. And so what if he was half an hour early and hovering nervously around, he would rather be thought too eager than someone who didn't care at all. Although to hear Mary say it, Tim's problem was that he cared too much, but that was surely a good thing and not a character flaw.
Besides, Mary had set this informal coffee meeting up and he knew she wouldn't have suggested he meet anyone who wouldn't appreciate his punctuality and eagerness. His mother always said he'd find the right man who found it endearing and not irritating like his previous few boyfriends had.
Turning on his heel just in front of the small bookstore just beginning to open up for the day, Tim saw a man enter the coffee shop. He looked a little cross as he talked into his phone, free hand sweeping through the dark curls on top of his head. But then, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a night of heavy rain, the man smiled, uttering possibly the most fond "fuck you" Tim had ever heard in his life.
Pacing back in front of the coffee shop, Tim's heart stuttered in his chest. The man had slung his coat over the back of one of the chairs, had set himself up at the adjoining table. His brilliant blue eyes shone in the early morning sunlight, scanning the newspaper with a focused intensity Tim wished was directed at him.
A little voice in the back of Tim's mind whispered that it could be. That this might be the man Tim was here to meet. Of course, Tim knew it was fanciful thinking, but he couldn't deny that he wanted it to be so. Yes, he was still twenty minutes early, and yes he had no idea what Mary's acquaintance even looked like, but Tim was raised to believe in things you couldn't necessarily see. Things you had to believe in with only that feeling inside to show you weren't believing in vain.
Heart beating a little faster in his chest, Tim's body tingled with anticipation. It was silly to even hope it, but something in Tim told him that this was it. This was what he'd been waiting for.
Pushing open the coffee shop door, Tim was greeted with that indefinable scent. Freshly roasted coffee and sweetness, syrups and spices and mint, all dancing in the air. Tim breathed it in, his eyes unconsciously straying to the only occupant of the cafe.
Those bright blue eyes were fixed on Tim, a soft smile playing about his lips. For a moment, Tim saw a kitchen table between them, the man's fancy suit turned to a silky robe, his perfectly tamed curls a sleep ruffled mess.
Just a moment, but enough for Tim to trust, to hope. To know he wanted to make that fleeting vision a reality.
And, as Grandma Laughlin said, there was nothing to be gained from dreaming. Her advice would always be to "do something about it then, Timothy". Granny Laughlin always had the best advice.
Tim crossed the floor to the man's table in a few short strides, finally feeling that intense gaze fixating on him with the focus he'd wished for. This close, Tim could smell the light spice of his cologne, could even read the front page of that morning's Post.
Tim didn't care to read the newspaper, didn't even care right now to analyse the different components that made the heady scent of his cologne and shampoo. All he could focus on was the warmth of his cheek against Tim's lips. Soft and smooth and more right than it had any right to feel.
Blushing a little at the man's surprised (but not unhappy) intake of breath, Tim stepped back. His fingers fidgeted with the buttons on his coat, his nose still tingling with the scent he never wanted to forget.
Tim forced himself to meet his gaze, blushing harder but not regretting what he'd done. He didn't think he ever could.
"Hi."
"Hello," the man replied, his smile bemused but voice even better than it was from a distance. Carrying through Tim like a drink of hot tea. The man cleared his throat, folding his newspaper as if it was no longer important to him. "Not that I'll ever object to a handsome man kissing me, but might I know what I did to deserve it?"
His tone was light, teasing, almost a little flirtatious.
Tim knew before he'd even finished speaking that he wasn't the man that he was supposed to have met. But, he had a hard time convincing himself to feel bad. How could he ever feel bad when this felt the most right - the most pure - thing he had ever done?
Just the same, the man deserved an explanation, and Tim could open himself up to a little light teasing if it meant keeping his attention on Tim for a while longer.
He settled on the chair opposite, forcing himself not to blush any harder at the curiosity he was being regarded with. "You're not... Arthur?"
"No," the man replied easily, that teasing, flirtatious edge back in his voice. "But I am suddenly very jealous about that. Is he your boyfriend?"
"No!" Tim felt his blush deepen at his vehemence, shaking his head quickly. "No, we, uh, we were supposed to meet here for coffee this morning. But..." Tim trailed off, looking around the empty coffee shop with what he wished could be called sadness. "I guess he's not coming."
"Well, then he's a fool," Tim was told gently, earning himself a new smile from the man he'd kissed. "I'm Hawk."
"Tim Laughlin." Tim held out his hand, Hawk's hand warm and soft as it closed around his.
Sparks zipped over Tim's skin, warming him and awakening his nerves at the same time. Hawk's eyes widened a little, his breath leaving in a surprised exhalation.
"Do you mind that I'm not Arthur?" Hawk asked, something almost like vulnerability flickering through the ocean of his eyes.
Tim shook his head soundlessly, certain that if he spoke right now he would say something overly eager. "I think I'd mind if he wasn't you," he said softly, feeling in his heart that Hawk was who he was meant to meet.
Hawk smiled, slow and soft and beautiful, and Tim knew he'd said the right thing.
"Well, Mr Laughlin," Hawk offered, Tim's insides dancing at the way his name sounded in Hawk's voice. "Can I buy you a coffee?"
"Latte," Tim smiled, heart dancing giddily in his chest. "As long as you don't have something more important to do."
"More important than this?" Hawk shook his head easily. He turned, looking towards the back of the store. "Stop necking with your boyfriend, Marcus! I need a latte and my usual!"
Tim startled a little as a deep male voice yelled back; "Get it yourself, you lazy bastard!"
Hawk chuckled, low and warm, making Tim want to feel it against his skin. He stood, offering his hand to Tim. "Come on, Skippy," he said, voice soft. "I'll make you the best latte you've ever had."
And that is exactly what he did.
As for Arthur, Tim met him at one of Mary and Caroline's dinner parties a few months later. He was seated in the lap of a man named Rafael, whispering soft poetry into his ears. He and Tim nodded at each other, silent realisation in their eyes, and Tim went right back to watching Hawk try and act out his clue in charades. It was for the best. Arthur looked happy and Tim was incandescently so, both there with the men they had met serendipitously instead of the other.