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Frankie and Stormé's voices were a perfect harmony. Rising above the band behind them, weaving through the couples on the dancefloor, spinning the magic that belonged especially to this time of year. Tim could feel the melody lift his heart, filling him up from his toes. He couldn't entirely credit the music - or even the festive season - with the happiness making him feel so light it was as if he'd grown wings.
They were singing the Christmas Waltz, but Tim was barely swaying, held in an embrace he wished would never end. The gentlest side to side motion, hardly moving around the darkened corner of the dancefloor that they'd claimed as their own. He was held so close, Tim could almost taste the Glen Mohr Hawk had been drinking, could feel the heat of his palms scalding through his shirt. He held Hawk just as close, revelling in being allowed this. In being the one that Hawkins Fuller chose to let in, to let close. Tim wanted to look around, to crow with satisfaction knowing that no one else had Hawk the way that he did. But, at the same time, Tim couldn't look away. They were in a little world of their own — just him and Hawk, and the music that surrounded them. Nothing and no one else existed.
Hawk's lips curled, his smile as soft as it only was around Tim - for Tim. His brilliant blue eyes sparkled like the light off a coat of fresh fallen snow, leaving Tim no choice but to smile helplessly back. Hawk's hand flexed on Tim's back, holding him just a little bit closer, swaying them both a little bit tighter.
Soon, Tim would have to think about packing. About boarding the train bound for New York and Christmas with his family. Trains and tickets and luggage held no sway over Tim right now. They were considerations for tomorrow. For after he had reluctantly peeled himself from the warmth of Hawk's bed and away from the security of his arms. After he had made his way back to the boarding house.
Now, he had everything he could ever possibly need, contained in this perfect moment. Hawk's arms wrapped around him, Hawk's eyes smiling affection at him, Hawk's cologne filling his senses, Hawk's warmth pressed against him, spreading through the layers of fabric between them.
The music stopped, just for a moment. A beat of time between one song and the next. If Tim had been looking, he would have seen Frankie slip away from the piano, gliding through the dancers to where Marcus was waiting for him, to snatch their moment together tonight. Tim didn't look, too caught up in the things Hawk was saying without saying anything at all. The simple intimacy of being able to hold each other in public - even if only here, even if this was as close as they could get to celebrating Christmas together - choosing to do so when they could have just retreated to a table and spent their night without attracting too much attention. Tim felt giddy. Special. That Hawk wanted to give him this.
Tim wanted to lean forward, to feel Hawk's smile curled against his own lips, to taste the whiskey that still clung to him.
Stormé started singing again, her voice low and sultry, and Tim claimed his chance.
Hawk's smile grew for a second before he returned the kiss. A chaste press of lips at first, as sweetly intimate as the press of their bodies as they swayed. Tim's eyes fluttered shut as the kiss deepened, his body melting into Hawk's, letting him do with him as he willed. A joyous surrender.
Hawk nuzzled their noses together, his hand slipping up Tim's back to hold him between his shoulder blades.
"More," Tim whispered, craving the feeling of Hawk's lips back on his. Needing as much as he could get, hoarding every memory for the long days (and nights) when Hawk's lips were out of his reach.
Hawk chuckled, warm and affectionate, nuzzling Tim's nose once more. "Soon, Skippy," he smiled, not moving back an inch. "I thought you wanted to dance."
Tim had. Tim did. He just wanted to kiss him too. To have every single bit of Hawk that he could for as long as he could. Fortunately, he didn't need to actually find the words to articulate that, his face broadcasting it loud and clear to Hawk. In any case, Tim was rewarded with another kiss, slow and sweet and lingering, as if Hawk himself was drinking in the moment, storing it away for when they wouldn't be together.
The opening notes of Auld Lang Syne drew them from their seventh, tenth, thousandth perfect kiss, Tim feeling Hawk's easy laughter bubble through them both. He half expected Hawk to tease him, to playfully ask if they'd been kissing for days. But Hawk surprised him - as Hawk usually seemed to be able to do. He gathered him properly in his arms, setting them both to swaying again to the music.
Stormé's voice rang out again, smokey and warm, weaving a romantic spell around them once more. A wistful dream of a lover hoping to be chosen on New Year's. The kind of beautiful yearning that set an ache in Tim's heart. He knew how the writer felt; desperate to be wanted, to be chosen, even if the odds seemed overwhelmingly against him for even dreaming it.
The press of Hawk's lips against his - brief but wonderful - shook Tim from the melancholy threatening to set in. The future would wait - now was what counted, and Hawk had chosen him tonight.
Tim smoothed his hand up and down Hawk's chest, feeling the faint vibrations as Hawk hummed along to the music. One of Hawk's hands left Tim's back, catching his hand and holding it against him.
Tim almost wanted to drown in the softness in Hawk's eyes, a tenderness he wished he could tuck away inside his chest and keep forever.
Hawk lifted Tim's hand and kissed it, giving him the smile that made him feel like he was the only person in the world. Melting further into Hawk's arms, Tim returned the smile, waiting for Hawk to verbalise the playful question in his eyes.
"What are you doing New Year's Eve, Skippy?"
Tim blinked, hearing an echo of the words coming from Stormé's lips. He didn't have to think very hard. Tim would be back in Washington. Hopefully, so would Hawk. And, even if asking was only a sweet fantasy brought on by the song, there was no harm in dreaming. Not when it was a dream they could both share.
"Let me show you," Tim smiled, closing the breath of air between them.
Hawk smiled anew against Tim's lips, Tim letting himself hope - just for a second - that New Year's Eve would find them here, doing exactly this.