Work Text:
December 6th, 1956
“Sweetheart? What is this?”
Lucy came down, already in her night dress, her hair undone, no makeup. Somehow it made her younger than she was. For a second Hawk saw a girl with whom he used to prank Leonard Smith together, so many years ago. A girl he once wanted to protect from every cruel thing in this world. Now he was the one doing a cruel thing to her.
“It’s a Christmas tree, Hawk,” Lucy looked at him like he was not well. “We bought it on the weekend, remember?”
“Yes, but why is it decorated? I thought we’re going to do it together,” Hawk clarified. He didn't particularly love Christmas, but decorating the tree was one of his favorite traditions since he was a little boy. He used to do it with Smiths for the last couple of years.
“Because all week you’re working late, Hawk,” Lucy said. “I was tired of waiting for you. Mother helped to put it up.”
Hawk’s been coming home late, but not because he was actually working. It’s just that he’s been dreaming of Tim all week. He dreamed of him from time to time, but recently Tim started to come to him almost every night. It was like his DC apartment kept all the memories of them together but since he gave it up, the memories have moved to his home in the boxes along with his stuff. The more boxes he opened the more memories he released to fly around Smith’s house in Alexandria, haunting him at night.
Instead of working late, he tried every way to make them stop. He tried to fuck it out of his system, but other men weren’t remotely helping—just proving that Tim was special. Perfect. Made specifically for Hawk. That Hawk would never belong to anyone the way he belonged to Tim. He tried to write to him, almost breaking the promise he gave him almost two years ago, but had to burn a dozen unfinished letters, lest his secretary find them in the office trash can. Today he went to drink with Marcus, only to find him in a similar state, as Frankie was still on the tour with Stormé. At least Marcus told him that Tim is not in danger and is stuck behind the desk.
“I’m sorry, darling,” Hawk said, trying to sound sincere. “I’ll try to work less.”
Lucy smiled and relaxed a little. “Are you coming to bed, then?” she asked, playfully. The idea of having sex with his wife now, when he saw Tim’s face every time he closed his eyes, was wrong. Not like this. She didn’t deserve this.
“I’m so tired, sweetheart.” Hawk didn’t have to fake a yawn—he really was tired. “Go to sleep. I’ll take a shower and join you in fifteen minutes.”
He noticed a flicker of disappointment on Lucy’s face before she turned and went upstairs. There will be more Christmas trees to decorate together, he promised himself, trying to shut out the guilt. Tim won’t be haunting him forever.