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There was really no reason for Hawk to be here tonight. He hadn't rung, and he knew Tim wasn't expecting him, but here he was just the same. Unable to sleep - some restlessness refusing to let him find peace in slumber - he had left his apartment with the aim of visiting the bathroom. Thinking perhaps that some eager young thing might give him an unfulfilling orgasm take the edge off whatever it was that left him unable to find rest. But even before he'd crossed the threshold of his apartment, he'd known that the night wouldn't see him at that public bathroom.
So here he was, his breath fogging in the cold night air, dithering with a hesitation so unlike himself.
When he set a course, he followed it through no matter what. Yet, here he was, hovering in front of the boarding house that Tim still called home.
The only small mercy Hawk could see in this uncharacteristic uncertainty, was that it was late enough that no one was here to witness it. No cars trundling past, no nosy neighbours peering out of the windows. Just Hawk and the misty breaths in front of him, and the rapid lack of feeling in his nose.
If Tim were here beside him, Hawk would nuzzle his nose with Tim's or press it into the warmth of his neck. Hawk didn't let Tim's cold toes fool him, Tim was the warmest person he knew. And all that wonderful warmth and sweet Skippy-ness was only a few doors away, waiting for Hawk to go to him.
Reaching out, Hawk tried the door handle. He didn't expect it to open - even a good Catholic boarding house had to rely on more than just the goodness of people to protect them from possible crime - but it swing open without so much as a creak of protest.
Well then. It appeared that someone up there wanted Hawk to go see his Skippy.
But Hawk would have to have a word with Tim's landlady - that still broken lock could admit all sorts to the decent corridors of her boarding house. Or, he would if he wasn't one of the indecent sorts taking advantage of the helpfully broken lock.
Quietly as he could, Hawk slipped upstairs to the landing that held Tim's room. Unlike last time, when Hawk had come straight to Tim after leaving his mother's house in Pennsylvania, Hawk didn't want to wake Tim by knocking. The Dragon Lady was piling on more and more work for his poor Skippy, and Tim needed his rest. Deserved to sleep uninterrupted. It wasn't his fault - except really it was - that Hawk needed to see him, to hold him and breathe him in.
Using a skill Hawk had picked up from one of his squad in the army, he deftly picked the lock on Tim's door, letting himself into the room. The hinges squeaked, just a little, halted from doing so further as Hawk slipped in and locked the door behind him.
If his teenaged self could see him now, so comfortable about slipping in to his lover's bedroom, he wouldn't believe it. Hawk could hardly believe it now. This was risky. But there was fun in the risk. And Tim was worth it a thousand times over.
Here, in the place where Tim came to unwind at the end of the day (on the nights he wasn't hurrying over to Hawk's to spend what precious time they could together), Hawk just let himself breathe. The scent of Tim filled his nose; clean laundry, a hint of his church cologne, the cheap but perfectly adequate soap he used when bathing, and - of course - the chicken noodle soup Tim had made for dinner.
Hawk's favourite scent in the world. Pure, undiluted Tim Laughlin. Eau de Skippy.
Not needing it here (never with Tim), Hawk left his bulletproof armour there on the floor, shedding his coat and jacket and shoes and putting them on or by the lone chair Tim's landlady believed adequate. Then, by the dim streetlight drifting in through the curtains, Hawk finally let himself look at his angel.
Tim was curled up underneath the covers, cuddling a pillow. His kissable nose peeked out over the duvet, pointing towards the empty side of the bed. The left side. Hawk's side. At least, whenever they slept together in this bed.
The springs of Tim's mattress squeaked their protests as Hawk slipped into bed on the left side. His side.
Hawk probably should have undressed more, but it was cold and he could only spare a few hours. Even a few hours, tucked up here with Tim, would set him up for the day of meetings and mendacity he had ahead of him. Holding Tim for a while would soothe the ache that grew inside his chest with every moment he was forced to stay away from his Skippy.
Tim mumbled in his sleep, snuggling closer to Hawk. In his sleep, Tim looked so impossibly young, his sweetness and innocence unmarred by time or the cruelty of the world they lived in.
Gently as he could, Hawk coaxed the pillow out of Tim's cuddling arms, putting it back behind his head where it belonged. Hawk could, if he wanted, turn his face into the soft material and breathe in the perfect scent of home. But even the scent clinging to the fabric was a pale imitation of the contentment to be found holding Tim close to him.
His sweet Skippy's nose crinkled in confusion. Sleepy and adorable and not understanding where his pillow had gone.
Hawk leaned in, pressing his lips to the crease in Tim's brow. Right above his adorably scrunched nose.
As if sensing it was Hawk, that he was safe, Tim nestled closer, wrapping his arm over Hawk instead, holding him close to him.
Tim's soft doe eyes blinked open, the smile stretching over his lips sleepy and beautiful.
"Hawk."
Tim didn't say his name like a question. Nor did he say it like he wasn't sure what Hawk was playing at, angry that he'd been so presumptuous. It was a statement. Hawk was there and Tim was happy.
Helpless against the surge of affection in his chest, Hawk pulled Tim into his arms, holding him tight against his chest.
"It's me," Hawk agreed, barely above a whisper. "Go back to sleep, Skippy. I'm here."
"G'night, Hawk," Tim hummed, nuzzling his nose into Hawk's neck.
His cold toes wiggled under Hawk's leg, shamelessly stealing whatever warmth Hawk had carried in with him. Hawk smiled to himself, burying his nose in Tim's thick hair.
Even if he only had a few hours, Hawk let himself relax. His eyes grew heavy, the restlessness that had sent him here settled with every deep inhale that filled his lungs with Tim's scent. His body clock would wake him just before dawn, until then, Hawk fell asleep holding Tim in his arms.