Work Text:
December 13th, 1961
“It’s snowing, Daddy!” Jackson exclaimed, standing on the windowsill, his tiny face and palms glued to the glass.
“Snowing! Snowing!” Kimberly repeated after her brother from the floor.
Lucy is in the shower and Hawk is left with the kids, although not exactly by himself. Lucy’s mother Helen sits at the sofa, watching him watching his children. Great. Not for the first time Hawk wonders, whether his mother-in-law really doesn't trust him that much or is it just natural behavior for women when they become grandmothers.
As if Helen heard his thoughts, she stands and makes her way in the direction of the kitchen.
“Do you want cocoa, Hawk?” Helen asks him, standing in the doorway. Something flips in his stomach, and a memory flashes in his head so fast he barely has time to register it.
He is in Tim’s room at the boarding house. It’s snowing outside, just like it is right now. They’ve spent at least three hours in bed and now they are both hungry, and probably a little dehydrated. Tim detaches himself from Hawk reluctantly and goes over to the table where he'd been cooking something before Hawk showed up at his door. He is completely naked, even though it's not exactly warm in the room, and Hawk can't take his eyes from him. “Do you want cocoa?” Tim turns to him with a spark in his eyes.
It’s gone as quick as it came.
“Cocoa!” Kimberly and Jackson scream in unison and Hawk reaches for his son just in time before he turns and jumps from the windowsill.
“Alright, buddy,” Hawk murmurs, taking Jackson in his arms before carefully setting him on the floor next to his sister. Then he looks up to check if Helen was a witness of him being perfectly able to handle his children. Of course she wasn’t. Hawk sighs.
Helen emerges with two small cups of cocoa soon, setting them on the coffee table. “I added extra cold milk so it’s not too hot,” she says.
Kimberly and Jackson forget whatever they were doing and let Hawk sit them down on the sofa with their tiny fingers wrapped around the cups. They gulp their cocoa, synchronized to the point Hawk wants to cry from cuteness.
“And this is yours,” Helen comes back with another—bigger—cup and hands it to Hawk. He smells it before he takes a sip. Another unpleasant flip in his stomach. He has to sit down as well, as his knees suddenly feel weak.
Hawk stands behind Tim, pressing himself to his lean back, looking over his shoulder. Tim warms up milk and adds two spoons of cocoa along with sugar and a pinch of brown powder. “Cinnamon,” Tim explains. “My grandma always made it with cinnamon.”
He takes a sip and the taste hits him right in the guts. It’s exactly how Tim tasted that night, a perfect combination of cocoa, milk and cinnamon.
He looks at Kim and Jax and a sudden wave of guilt crushes him. He can’t be daydreaming about Tim. He can’t. He doesn’t do that anymore. Perhaps, in the darkness of the night, when he takes off the mask of the perfect husband, father and son-in-law, but not in the middle of the day when he has children to take care of. He takes a deep breath and locks Tim in the darkest corner of his mind.
“Daddy, cocoa is smeared all over Kim,” Jackson announces.
“You’re not better, buddy,” Hawk laughs and wipes both of their faces. He looks up at Helen only to find she is not there. Relief surges through him. Maybe she trusts him with the children after all. Maybe she can see how much he is ready to give up for them. Maybe she knows how hard it is for him not to think of Tim every minute of his day.
Maybe she knows that he let a part of himself die to make the right choice.