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For all that he was a fairly broke college student, working to pay his way through a political sciences degree, Hawk sometimes forgot that he wasn't always this way. Not that there was anything wrong with working to pay tuition and rent and food - and there was a certain satisfaction to knowing that he was doing it himself, without a single dollar from the sperm donor who had fucked up his childhood. But, every now and then, there were certain things that reminded Hawk that he hadn't exactly come from humble beginnings. (And Marcus could shut up about Hawk being a spoiled asshole, his father made his name as a famous pianist, Marcus didn't come from humble beginnings either.)
But Hawk digressed.
His point was that, every now and then, certain things just took him by surprise. Like little tricks Tim had to make food go further, or how good Tim looked buried under the hood of Hawk's very old, only clinging to life out of sheer stubbornness, green Ford - fixing it for Hawk because they needed the car and there was no way they could afford rent and the outrageously high quote from the local mechanics. Tim had tried, after that, to get Hawk to learn basic car maintenance, but Hawk was always distracted by the sight of Tim with grease on his hands and a smile on his face and, well, nothing else stuck. Although he always did enjoy the attempts.
Today, it wasn't Hawk's laughable experience with car repair that brought him up short. But fortunately, it was something just as easy on the eyes and equally as adorable.
Hawk came back after taking Marcus to buy an anniversary present for Frankie (Sunday mornings and being the only one of them in possession of a working automobile apparently meaning that Hawk was volunteered as chauffeur to the hopefully romantic), setting his keys down in the bowl Tim insisted they use. It was a wonky, misshapen thing, but a loving gift from one of Tim's many cousins for their housewarming.
Brightly coloured as it was, it always made a smile twitch at Hawk's lips, no matter how exhausted he was or how draining his work/college day had been. That was Tim all over - brightening up Hawk's world and taking him away from the monochrome tones of his youth.
Colour. Joy. Happiness. Love.
All boundlessly given to him by Tim.
Hawk tilted his head, the soft sound of the radio in the kitchen drifting around the apartment. So, Tim was back from Church, good. "Angel, I'm home!"
Tim stuck his head out of the bedroom door, his hair a mess and smile beaming. "Hi, beloved," he chirped, the sound of his voice settling some part of Hawk that was always on edge without it. "How was shopping with Marcus?"
Hawk exaggerated a groan, leaning against the back of their couch. "Remind me never to do that again."
Tim grinned, wandering out of the bedroom with the laundry hamper in his arms."So you had fun, then?"
"Define fun," Hawk hedged, knowing fully well that Tim read him like a book. "Frankie will be happy."
"Don't tell me," Tim called, voice muffled from where he was putting on a loud of laundry. "You know Frankie tricks me into telling him what Marcus gets him."
Hawk bit back a chuckle. It wasn't that Frankie tricked Tim, it was that his sweet Skippy was so utterly incapable of subterfuge or obfuscation that Frankie only had to cock his hip and narrow his eyes for Tim to blurt out the surprise. Tim was so sweetly innocent about so many things it made Hawk fall in love with him so much more every day.
"I wasn't going to, my love," Hawk replied, making his way into the kitchen for the cup of coffee he'd been craving since the third shop Marcus had dragged him to. "Marcus swore me to secrecy."
There was a series of thumps and rattles that preceded their temperamental washing machine's starting the wash cycle, then Tim emerged from the closet that doubled as their laundry, dusting off his hands.
Handsome as always, Tim looked ready for both summer and winter. His top half drowned in a blue flannel shirt that Hawk had hidden at the back of his closet, while his bottom half was barely dressed in the shortest pair of denim cutoff shorts that Hawk had ever seen in his life.
Hawk swallowed a too hot mouthful of coffee, coughing a little as a few drops went down the wrong pipe.
Concern bright in his eyes, Tim moved closer, rubbing Hawk's back with gentle, soothing motions. "Are you okay, Hawk?"
Hawk coughed a final time, blinking watery eyes. "Skippy, what are you wearing?"
Tim fidgeted, worrying the edge of the flannel. "It's laundry day," he said, jutting his chin out in stubborn refusal to be embarrassed.
"I'm aware of that, Skippy," Hawk smiled, pulling Tim into his arms. "But why are you wearing that?"
Tim shook his head, smoothing his hands up Hawk's hoodie. "Not everyone has more clothes than they know what to do with, Hawk."
"Hey," Hawk protested, poking Tim's side in loving offense. He didn't have that many clothes. He might have more than Tim. But really it was all his aunts and uncles sent him for his birthday and Christmas. Coats and tailored shirts and... Maybe Tim was right.
"I dropped mustard on my last pair of jeans," Tim explained, helping himself to a sip from Hawk's coffee. "This was all I had that was clean." Tim's voice trailed off into almost a question. Shy and uncertain as Tim should never feel the need to be around Hawk.
Hawk reeled him in for a kiss, letting that show how he felt - how handsome Tim looked every minute of the day.
"You look gorgeous, Skippy," Hawk said as soon as they parted, not letting any doubt linger.
Tim smiled, eyes sparkling behind the lenses of his glasses. "You're biased, beloved."
"No such thing when it comes to you, angel," Hawk replied, keeping his arms wrapped around Tim as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. "So, tell me more about this laundry day dress code. I'm interested."
Tim peered at him, face scrunched up in the way that was too cute for words. "Are you teasing me, Hawk?"
Hawk gasped, adopting an expression that he hoped conveyed that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Never, angel."
Tim shook his head, a fond smile just twitching at his lips. "I'd tell you, my love," Tim grinned, nose crinkling with his mischievous smile. "But you have to go get the groceries. We're almost out of coffee and milk and peanut butter."
"Very well, Skippy," Hawk sighed, stealing a quick kiss. "I'll go to the shops. Heaven forbid you go without your milk or peanut butter."
"Or you without your coffee," Tim teased right back, hands wrapped around Hawk's coffee mug. His impish angel.
But two could play that game. "Smooth peanut butter coming right up, Skip."
Tim's shocked gasp followed Hawk into the living area. "You wouldn't?!"
"We'll see, angel," Hawk called, scooping up his keys again. "I love you!"
Tim followed Hawk to the door, pressing a list into his hand and a kiss to his lips. "I love you too," he smiled, the truth of it shining plainly on his face. "Now bring me back my peanut butter. Crunchy. It doesn't have to be Skippy."
Hawk just smiled, kissing Tim once more before reluctantly leaving. He'd go next door first, check if Frankie or Marcus needed a life to the shops too.