Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim Laughlin broke out of jail.

No, not jail. Prison. The federal kind.

He had four months left of his four year sentence, and he broke out of prison.

Those were the facts that Hawk was presented with when he answered Marcus’ phone call that morning. He was juggling trying to get Jackson and Kimberly out of the house on time for school while scarfing down his own breakfast, and he didn’t have the bandwidth to ask the whys or hows that he knew he needed to ask. Instead, he swallowed a spoonful of oatmeal, flatly told Marcus, “Great,” and dragged Jackson outside by his collar.

But that was earlier. Now, Hawk sat across the table from his White Whale, the man that it took him years and years of endless sleepless nights and headaches to catch.

Tim was bound at both his wrists and ankles by handcuffs.

Hawk didn’t greet him as he sat down. “That was stupid,” he said. This time, Tim had been easy to find. He was in one of the first places that Hawk had checked. Maybe he was losing his touch. Or, more likely—

“I wasn’t running.”

“I figured.”

“If I wanted to disappear, I could’ve.”

“I know,” Hawk agreed. He wasn’t above giving Tim his credit where it was due. “So why didn’t you?”

Tim looked at his hands for a long moment, studying them so that he didn’t have to make eye contact with Hawk. He twisted his wrists in his handcuffs, first one, then the other, before looking down at his feet. “Don’t you think the ankle cuffs are a bit much?”

“You’ve proven yourself to be a runner.”

Tim frowned, nose wrinkled. “I break out one time in four years and I’m labeled as a runner?”

“And now you’ve bought yourself four more.” Hawk stood up, bracing against the back of his chair. His mind was racing with all of the work that was waiting for him back at his desk; they’d gotten behind recently and still hadn’t caught back up. He didn’t have time for this, for sitting here and fooling around with Resident Felon Tim Laughlin. “You realize this is a prison sentence and not a presidency, right?”

Tim rolled his eyes, gaze following Hawk’s movements. “Don’t leave yet. I wanted to meet with you for a reason.” His hands moved as he slid over a blue file folder.

“I don’t have time for this,” Hawk said, pushing off of the chair. He turned to leave, and Tim made a wounded noise, cuffs clinking as he hopped up from his seat.

“You didn’t even read it.”

“Don’t need to. I can promise I’m not buying whatever you’re selling.”

Tim made another noise, so Hawk stopped, sighing, making a big show of opening the folder and scanning the page. He tried to keep from audibly laughing at the pages but failed, scoffing. “No.”

Tim was undeterred. “There’s precedence.”

“I’m sure you’ve done the research.”

“Just think about it.”

“And why should I take a chance on you?”

Tim was earnest when he answered, eyes wide and as honest as Hawk had ever seen them — and he’d seen those eyes often throughout the years, plaguing his dreams when Tim was always one con ahead of them, always right out of reach. “Because you know me. And you know I could help you.”

Hawk closed the file, stepping back from the table once more. “You know what helps me, Tim? Knowing that you’re here. Behind bars. Not running all over the streets of Manhattan.”

“I wouldn’t be all over the streets of Manhattan. I’d be — you’d know where I was at all times.” Tim motioned vaguely towards the folder. “A GPS anklet. I’d be restricted to a radius. Think about it, Hawk.” When Hawk shot him a look, Tim smiled, lips quirking up. “Agent Fuller. Just think about it.”

“You just want out of here. You’re not trying to help me. This is for yourself.”

Tim shrugged, fingers dusting along the file folder. “I give you help, you give me freedom — within a reasonable distance. We both benefit. You know: ‘something for something.’”

“A quid pro quo.”

“I wasn’t sure how brushed up you were on your Latin.” While Hawk tried to decide whether or not he should be offended by that, Tim slid the folder off of the table, handing it over. “Just think about it. I’m not trying to con you.”

Hawk huffed out a laugh, lips betraying him with a smile. “I bet you say that to all the agents.”

Tim smiled back. “No. Just to the ones I like.”

—————

“You’re considering it.”

Hawk lowered the papers that he was looking at, letting them fall back onto the blue file folder that had been parked on his desk for three days. He accepted the mug of coffee that Marcus offered him, hissing as the first sip burned his tongue. “I’m not. I’m just reading the papers he put together. I’m curious about where he was going with this.”

Marcus raised his eyebrows as he sat in a chair on the opposite side of Hawk’s desk, placing his own mug down. “You’re full of shit.”

Marcus was technically Hawk’s direct report — meaning that Hawk was his superior — but he never acted like it. And truthfully, Hawk preferred it that way. He liked having someone to see eye-to-eye with, and luckily, he was blessed with two people in the office that he could lean on. Marcus being one, and the other being Mary, who was letting herself into Hawk’s office right at the tail end of Marcus’ sentence.

“He’s considering it?” she asked Marcus, and then, before anyone could respond, “You owe me lunch.”

“You bet on whether or not I’d consider this?” Hawk asked, and then, before either could respond, “And I’m not considering it.”

“You are,” Mary countered, and Hawk wanted to ask how she was so sure when she’d just walked into the room. “And no. We bet on how long it would take you to consider it. Marcus bet over a week. I bet under.” She turned to Marcus. “Three days. Tough break.”

“I’m not considering it.”

“Saying something more than once doesn’t make it any more true,” Marcus said behind a sip of coffee. He turned to Mary. “He said he was just ‘curious where Tim was going with this.’”

Mary furrowed her brows. “He told you where he’s going with this. He wants to be your CI in exchange for not rotting in a prison cell for another four years.”

Hawk sighed. “There has to be more to it.” He’d been chasing and checking up on Tim Laughlin for years. It was never that simple with him. “It’s Tim.”

“I don’t think he’s stupid enough to pull off a con right under the nose of the FBI.” Mary paused for a second at Hawk’s flat, blank look before correcting herself. “Okay. Right. He did that for years, I know. What I mean is that I don’t think he’s stupid enough to pull off a con while working right under the nose of the FBI. You two know each other too well at this point. You respect each other. You—”

“I don’t respect him.”

Mary sighed, waving him off. “In a weird way, I think you do, but whatever. He respects you for finally catching him, I think. Not once, but twice. You don’t think that counts for something?”

“The second time he made it easy,” Hawk countered. “You don’t wonder why he broke out?”

“We both know why he broke out,” Marcus answered. And he was right. Well, they didn’t know the full story, but Tim’s on-again, off-again boyfriend had been under the FBI’s scrutiny as Tim’s most important connection for years. A month or two ago he had stopped his regular visits to Tim in prison. It wasn’t the biggest coincidence that Tim broke out shortly after.

“Then how do I know this,” Hawk gestured to the folder, “isn’t all smoke and mirrors just so he can track down Arthur again?”

Marcus shrugged. “Maybe it is. Maybe he genuinely wants to help us. You can’t deny that he’d be an asset to the team, Hawk. The kind of knowledge he has…”

“You want me to say yes.” Hawk felt a bit dumb for just realizing it. “You both want me to say yes. That’s why you’re in here. You saw me looking at the file, decided to butter me up with the gift of caffeine and then tag-teamed me. You knew I was considering it before you even walked in.”

Mary grinned. “Nothing gets past our top agent, does it? And you realize you admitted that you’re considering it, right?”

Hawk placed a hand to his temple. If he had to hear or say the phrase ‘considering it’ one more time he was going to consider exploding instead. “I don’t think working alongside Tim Laughlin is a good idea,” he said eventually. “It’s too risky.”

“I don’t see why you can’t give him a chance,” Marcus answered. “If he messes up, just throw him back in prison.”

“Did you two rehearse this?”

“We’ve discussed it,” Mary said, standing up, “since you won’t.” She turned to leave out of the office, dismissing herself, before she stopped in the doorway. “And we have another bet: wrap it up and sign the paperwork in the next forty-eight hours and Marcus owes me dinner too.”

—————

Tim was given a desk that was in Hawk’s, Mary’s, and Marcus’ full view at all times.

Hawk did not trust him, and it took him nearly a full week for his eyes to stop tracking Tim’s movements any time he moved across the office.

He thought he was being discreet — his office walls were made of glass, yes, but he tried to keep his head ducked low as he watched Tim titter about. But on Tim’s sixth day of work, he caught Hawk by the coffee machine, hands in his pockets and an unfairly adorable grin on his face.

“Hi,” he started a bit nonchalantly, and once Hawk had grunted out a greeting in response he continued, rocking on his feet. “Are you going to keep staring at me all day? I kind of thought you’d stop by now. I haven’t even stolen a single company pen. And they’re nice pens.”

Hawk blinked at him, feeling a bit caught out. His coffee was done and he pretended to busy himself with it, though it had poured straight into the mug and he drank his coffee black, so no further preparation was needed. “I haven’t been staring at you.”

Tim huffed out a laugh, and it sounded genuine. “I’ve spent the better part of eight years being surveilled by Special Agent Hawkins Fuller. I think I know when you’re staring at me.”

“Can you blame me?”

Tim shrugged. “I’m sure having a felon working for the FBI is weird for you. Being a felon working for the FBI is weird for me.” He went to make his own coffee now that Hawk was out of the way, except, no, he was reaching in the mini-fridge for a glass bottle of milk. Hawk had forgotten that particular quirk of his.

“You’re the one that proposed this.”

Tim shrugged again, uncapping the milk, taking a swig. “Still feels weirder than I thought it would, being on the other side of things.”

“You wish you were back out there?”

Tim shook his head. “No. It just feels weird.”

And Hawk wanted to believe him — Tim’s words sounded true, and Hawk had learned over the years that while Tim was overly crafty and charming, he was actually a pretty terrible liar. But Hawk also knew that a week in a government building couldn’t cure Tim from seeking the next big con.

“I’m sure it’ll feel more natural the longer you’re here,” Hawk replied, shooting him an easy smile. “One week down, four more years to go.”

—————

Hawk knew that he had a short fuse. It was one of his lesser qualities, and he was aware of it. But it wasn’t that he was easy to anger, really — he was rather even-tempered in most situations. He was, however, incredibly easy to annoy.

And boy, did Tim love to push his buttons.

Hawk wasn’t even sure that he was doing it purposefully at this point. But they were out of the office together for the first time, following up on a lead on the case they’d been assigned two days ago. And Tim was being annoying.

Before Hawk even started questioning, Tim interjected. And that was incredibly annoying given the fact that Hawk liked to question with tact; he had a method to his madness and it didn’t involve Tim Laughlin.

Tim also seemingly had no concept of personal space. He was all up in Hawk’s bubble, always hovering over his shoulder. Every time Hawk would turn his head, Tim was just. There. Every time.

But most annoyingly, he was good at his job. They’d been here to question a woman in connection to a pretty large commercial robbery. She looked startled when they’d walked into her job, and nearly started shaking when Hawk flashed his badge.

But then Tim shot her a dimpled smile, leaning over on the reception desk that she was sat behind. “We just want to ask you a few questions,” he’d started, and Hawk internally rolled his eyes at the use of the word ‘we,’ “but you’re not in trouble or anything.” He eyed a picture frame situated to the right of her keyboard. “You have a golden retriever? So does my sister.”

“I do,” the woman had replied, and then with a nervous chuckle, “I hope all the questions you ask me are that easy.”

Tim smiled a little harder. “They should be.”

It was a bit uncanny, and yes, a bit annoying, how easily Tim was able to put her at ease with a little mindless chatter before Hawk stopped them, clearing his throat as a reminder of the job that they were there to do.

Hawk took the woman a bit down the hall, away from prying eyes as he asked his series of standard questions, scribbling things down onto his notepad, and he noticed Tim idling around out of the corner of his eye.

When he finished his questions he thanked their witness, tracked down his CI, and it wasn’t until they were on the way back to the office, when Hawk told Tim to stop messing with the AC did Tim really begin to speak.

“She was lying to you,” he said conversationally. “Tracy. I don’t know what she told you, but she’s lying.”

“And you know this how?” Hawk kept his eyes focused on the road. “Whatever you did, it better have been legal.”

“It was legal,” Tim promised. He reached to mess with the AC again, adjusting it away from what Hawk had just set. “Snooped around her desk a little — only what was already out, I know, no warrant. She had a desk calendar. She’d already ripped off last month, obviously, but she must write pretty hard because I could see the impression from her pen on this month’s page. Ran a pencil over a few of the dates — I erased it after, don’t look at me like that. Did she tell you that she’d never met Vince?”

Hawk raised his eyebrows at the name of their main suspect. “She said she didn’t know anyone by that name, and she didn’t remember meeting anyone that matched his description.”

“Yeah, well. She met him for lunch two weeks ago, according to those old calendar dates. You should get a warrant for her phone records. She was so freaked out when we walked in she’s probably calling him and panicking now.”

Hawk hummed at the suggestion. “I’ll think about it.” And then, a bit begrudgingly, because he did very seriously pride himself on giving credit where it was due, “Good catch with the calendar. I hadn’t had time to check that out.”

Tim sat back in his seat, seemingly satisfied. “That’s why I’m here.”

—————

“Check it out.” Mary dropped a stack of papers on his desk, neatly stapled together. “Tracy Dunn’s phone records over the past three months. Look at the number she called four minutes after you and Tim left her building.” A neatly polished nail pointed out a highlighted line. “Same number she contacted the day of that lunch and—“ Mary flipped a page back, “—same number she contacted the night before the robbery.”

Hawk nodded appreciatively. “Laughlin’s going to eat this up.”

“He should; it was a good catch. I told you he’d be an asset.” Mary gathered her papers again, and Hawk rolled his eyes.

“Since when are you two friends?”

“I’m going to pretend that was a genuine question and not your chronic sarcasm. Tim is actually really nice to talk to if you give him a chance.”

Hawk thought that was entirely unfair. He’d given Tim more than his fair share of chances over the years. “Charming people is a part of his schtick. Remember that.”

“And people exist outside of their crimes.” Mary backed away from his desk, heading towards the door. “You remember that.“

And he understood Mary’s point, he did. But Mary didn’t pour years of her life into tracking Tim’s every moment, every thought, and every con and crime the same way that Hawk had. She didn’t realize that there was not a single honest bone in his body, despite what the dimples and big, brown doe eyes would suggest. She didn’t understand the way that Tim maneuvered through life in the same way that Hawk did, because he’d watched him talk his way out of slippery situations one too many times.

So yes. On the surface, he understood Mary’s point. But he wasn’t quite sure that she understood his.

—————

And Hawk was right, and he always was. It didn’t take long for Tim to revert to his old ways, and Hawk would’ve been smug if both Mary and Marcus wouldn’t call him an asshole over it.

Three days after Tracy Dunn’s subsequent arrest and further questioning, Hawk’s sandwich was missing. And he was sort of ticked off about it. It was his leftovers from the night before: a beautiful sub that he’d only picked up because Kimberly had begged him to stop by the deli on their way home from her riding lessons. Apparently Lucy had promised they’d go when she had the kids the previous week and then the plans had somehow fallen through the cracks, so it was up to Hawk to make up for it.

So they’d each gotten a sub, and then they’d also gotten one to take home to Jackson. But by the time they’d gotten home Jackson had already ordered himself a pizza, and he’d told his dad he didn’t want the sub as leftovers the next day either. Which was fine with Hawk — he brought it for himself for lunch.

But now he was hungry, and it was missing. And he was sure it had been in the fridge less than an hour ago because he’d checked on it in anticipation for lunch.

And in the number of years that Hawk had worked in this building, his lunch had never been stolen. Not once.

So it wasn’t hard to deduce what had happened.

“Where are you going?”

Hawk glanced at Marcus as he walked past, slowing down a bit so that Marcus could catch up to his stride. “Out. Need a lunch.”

Marcus held the door open for him as they walked out of the office and towards the elevators. “I thought you had a sub.”

Hawk raised his brows. “I did. Not anymore.” At Marcus’ confused look, he elaborated a little further, stepping into the elevator. “Someone stole it.”

“Ah.” The accompanying nod that Marcus told Hawk that he didn’t need to explain any more than that. They rode down to the first floor in silence, and then as the doors opened, Marcus sighed. “I don’t think he did it just to piss you off.”

“I didn’t ask.” At the moment, frankly, Hawk didn’t really care much about why Tim decided to steal his lunch, just about the fact that he did.

“He’s been stealing from the free snacks all week. I haven’t called him out on it yet. I don’t know who else has noticed.”

“Maybe you should’ve. Maybe I wouldn’t be buying a second lunch right now.”

“You’re an ass. I tell you the kid’s been stealing food and you’re still worried about that sub?”

Hawk spared Marcus a glance as they stepped outside. “He’s not a kid.”

Marcus ignored him. “I think he’s broke. Mary said he told her he’s been living in a shithole and I know we haven’t paid him yet.”

“He used the word ‘shithole?’”

“No, that was my interpretation. But he said it’s bad. He doesn’t have a kitchen. He has a hot plate, but the temperature control doesn’t work. Said he burned his soup. Soup.”

“And you believed him?”

“Hawk, he’s pocketing snack-sized bags of SunChips four at a time when they’re free. Do you know how hungry you have to be to steal shit that’s already free?”

They slowed to a stop at a crossing. Marcus was still staring at him intently, so Hawk sighed.

“And what am I supposed to do about that?”

“Show some empathy. I know you’re capable.”

“If you’re so empathetic, why haven’t you done anything?”

“Mary and I have already talked about it, actually. We’re trying to figure out the best way to help him out without offending him.”

“You didn’t want to include me in this?”

Marcus laughed as they went to cross the street. “Helping Tim Laughlin doesn’t seem very high on your list of priorities. Neither of us have a place for him to stay, but we could probably help with food. And clothes. I’m pretty sure he only owns three shirts and none of them fit.”

Hawk hummed at that. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re more than welcome to join in with helping out, if ever you find that heart of yours.”

“I heard it’s pounding beneath the floorboards.”

—————

Hawk gaped at his ex-wife. “Lucy? No.”

“Why not? I think my mom would enjoy the company. She’s so lonely now that Dad’s gone, but she won’t admit it.”

Lucy was over to take Jackson and Kim to her house, and Hawk had been venting about all the ways that Tim’s existence had been making his life harder as the kids got their things together. He’d just finished telling her about his stolen lunch and his and Marcus’ ensuing conversation when she butted in about the empty mother-in-law suite at her parents’ home. Which Hawk was now emphatically turning down.

“I’m not sending a convicted felon to live with your mother.”

“Hawk, it’s not like he killed anyone.” Lucy paused for a moment. “He hasn’t. Right?”

“No, he hasn’t killed anyone.”

“Okay, so he forged some papers and stole some art. My mom would love to have someone to talk about art with.”

“You’re minimizing it.”

“I think she’d like him.” She said it in a way that clearly stated that the conversation was done.

And Hawk didn’t lose very many arguments. He didn’t bend to most people. But when it came to Lucy, he knew when a battle was over.

“To be clear, I think this is a bad idea.”

“You also think that tie matches that suit.” Lucy turned away from him when Kim came fumbling down the stairs, backpack slung over her shoulder and a duffle bag on her arm. Lucy took the duffle bag. “Where’s your brother?”

Hawk furrowed his brow. “Do you think my tie matches my suit?”

To her mother, Kimberly said, “He’s coming down in a second, I think.” And to Hawk, “No. It’s kind of ugly too.”

Fourteen-year-olds had such a way with words.

“What’s ugly?” Jackson asked as he flew down the stairs in the exact way that Hawk always told him not to, lest he get hurt. He went to nag at him again but Kim cut him off.

“Take a guess. We’ve already talked about it.”

“Oh.” Jackson seemed a little disappointed that it wasn’t something more exciting. “Dad’s tie.”

Hawk scoffed as Lucy failed to hide a laugh behind her hand. “Alright. I think it’s time for all of you to go.” He pretended to shoo them towards the door, and as the kids walked ahead, Lucy turned to him again.

“If you don’t reach out to Tim about the suite, I will. He can’t live in a place with a broken front lock, Hawk. That’s dangerous.”

“The city has a relatively low crime rate—” He cut himself off as Lucy shot him a look. “You don’t think there’s some compromise between a broken front door and living with your mom?”

Lucy shot him one last look before heading outside. “Tell Tim I’ll be in touch.”

—————

Mid-afternoon on Monday, right before lunch, Tim hovered in the doorway of Hawk’s office.

Hawk looked away from his laptop. “Come in.”

Tim came in a little hesitantly, looking even more awkward once he was inside, hands shoved into his pockets.

Hawk looked pointedly at his chairs. “You’re allowed to sit.”

Tim shook his head. “This won’t take long, I just need to ask you about something.”

“Alright.”

“I got an email from your wife…?” Tim trailed off, sounding a bit confused. When Hawk didn’t say anything, he added, “Lucy,” for clarification, as if he could’ve been talking about anyone else.

Hawk sighed. He knew that Lucy’s threat to contact Tim herself was real, but he hadn’t expected her to reach out right after the weekend. It hadn’t even been a full business day yet.

Instead of verbalizing any of that to Tim, he just raised his brows. “Ex-wife.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” Tim scrunched his face, glancing at Hawk’s bare left hand.

“I’m surprised you didn’t.”

“I was in prison for four years, Hawk. I missed a lot of news.”

“You still managed to send me birthday cards.”

“Well it’s not like you sent me a divorce announcement.” Tim paused, shaking his head. “That’s not even why I’m in here. I’m in here because—”

“Because Lucy sent you an email about housing. I know. She didn’t trust me to ask you myself.”

At the admission, Tim looked even more confused. “Is this a set up? Are you going to have, I don’t know, are you going to put cameras up around the house or something? Because I’ve been wearing the anklet. You can check the tracking. I’ve been following the rules. You don’t have to do that.”

At this, Hawk looked confused. “You think my ex-wife offered you housing so that I could secretly watch you sleep?”

“I don’t know why she’d do that.”

Hawk sat back in his chair, fully abandoning the pretense of continuing to get any work done for the moment. “Because she thinks it’s unsafe for you to live in a building whose front door doesn’t lock, her mom is rich and lonely, and she was tired of me complaining about you stealing my lunch. Is that enough reason? I’m not bugging the house; Lucy would kill me for one, and if I wanted you to be watched at all times I’d just send you back to prison.”

Tim looked embarrassed at the mention of the stolen sub, but chose not to comment on it, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the ground. “Okay. I’m still not sure why you’d want to help me though.”

Hawk bit back his immediate first thought, which was: I don’t. Instead, he pulled out one of his spare notepads from his desk drawer, sliding it towards Tim along with a pen tossed his way. “You mind writing down your sizes? Lucy’s father used to be in politics and he left a closet full of old suits.  I’ve been meaning to go through them, and I could see if any of them would fit you.”

Tim looked at him a bit oddly, but didn’t say anything as he scribbled onto the pad, passing it back to Hawk when he was done. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Hawk reached for his laptop again, pulling it towards himself to give the indication that the conversation was over. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Okay.” Tim nodded, backing up a bit before stopping. “So should I… Should I reply to Lucy’s email?”

Hawk shrugged. “If you want to live there, yes. It won’t hurt my feelings if you turn her down. I don’t care where you live as long as it’s in your radius.”

Tim nodded again, once again inching a bit further towards the doorway. “Okay, I’m going to say yes then. I guess you know, but the place I’m staying in right now is pretty bad.”

“I’ve heard. That’s why she’s offering.” Hawk let Tim almost exit before he spoke again. “I’ve also heard there’s an extra bagged lunch in the fridge today. Nobody’s claimed it. Must be free for taking.”

In all honesty, Hawk had packed the lunch begrudgingly that morning; he was annoyed that Marcus thought that only he and Mary were capable of lending Tim a hand and weren’t even going to approach Hawk about it. So the meal was mostly made out of spite and it wasn’t much; it was very reminiscent of the lunches that Kim and Jax would pack for school — a couple of snacks, a paltry excuse for a sandwich, and an apple that Hawk tossed in last minute from the fruit bowl. But it was free calories, so he figured Tim wouldn’t be too fussy about it.

“Thank you,” he murmured, head ducked low. He turned to leave again and Hawk stopped him one final time.

“Tim?”

“Yeah?”

Hawk motioned towards the entryway. “Make sure you close the door behind you.”

Chapter Text

“Let me get this straight.”

Tim sighed, not even bothering to look at Frankie, instead continuing to focus on buttoning up his suit jacket.

“Hawkins Fuller — the Suit that’s been hunting you down for years and put you in jail not once, but twice — takes you up on your offer to be his CI in exchange for your jail time—”

“Prison,” Tim corrected, and Frankie rolled his eyes as he continued.

“—sets you up in a suite with his mother-in-law—”

“Ex.”

“—ex mother-in-law, and gifts you a ton of his dead ex-father-in-law’s suits. Which look nice on you, by the way—”

“Thank you.” Tim did a half-turn in the full-length mirror.

“—and you think this is normal. Did I get that right?”

Tim shook his head. “I don’t think it’s normal, but I don’t see why you’re so freaked out by it.”

“Timothy.” Frankie furrowed his brows, looking very seriously at Tim from where he was perched on Tim’s brand new couch. “You made that man’s life a living hell for half a decade. You know he hates you, right?”

“I know that,” he said, because he did know it. He’d been hoping that now that he and Hawk were on the same team their dynamic could shift a little, but so far it hadn’t. And Tim didn’t blame him — he’d been outsmarting Agent Fuller and the entire FBI for far longer than almost any criminal that they were used to, and Tim learned pretty early on that Hawk didn’t take well to being bested.

So Tim understood the hatred and distrust. He didn’t feel quite the same — he couldn’t say that he liked Hawk, per se, but he didn’t hate him. He mostly found him to be an all-too-smart and all-too-attractive inconvenience.

Not that the second part mattered, nor was it ever really something that Tim had particularly noticed. It was just something that was constantly apparent, like a nagging thought that you were acutely aware of, almost leaving your mind but not quite. Tim didn’t think that he was unique in noticing Hawk’s attractiveness. In fact, he’d be very surprised if he asked any random person for a description of Special Agent Hawkins Fuller and that wasn’t one of the first things they noted.

But, again, the fact that he was hot was much less a reason that Hawk had been a thorn in Tim’s side for years compared to the fact that he was annoyingly smart and analytical. Tim swore he could see the gears turning in Hawk’s head behind those baby blue eyes whenever he so much as thought to lie to him.

“So,” Frankie said, pulling Tim out of his thoughts and fluffing a pillow, “tell me again why you’re not freaked out?”

“Because he wants me staying here even less than you do.” Tim shrugged out of the suit jacket, moving to unbutton his shirt next. “It was Lucy that set this up, remember? He was supposed to ask me about it and he didn’t, because he doesn’t want me staying here, so she did it instead.”

Frankie nodded. “Ah, I see. The enemy of your enemy is your friend.”

“I don’t know if they’re enemies.”

“You don’t know that they’re not.”

Tim shook his head lightly at Frankie, putting the suit back on the hanger and heading over to place it back in the closet. Hawk had left him a sizable amount of suits and dress clothes that matched the measurements that Tim had scribbled down for him, and Tim was grateful. Since being in prison he didn’t have all that much to his name, anymore, and he was pretty sure that both Mary and Marcus had started to catch on.

And he knew that it sounded rather silly to someone on the outside, the thought of a con man who’d made a living out of thieving and scheming being rather… Well, to put it aptly, broke. But Tim had never done it for the personal financial gain, not really. Of course, he allotted himself what he considered to be a rather average salary — he did need to have a place to eat and sleep after all, and maybe he did like buying a nice knickknack or two every so often.

But other than that, he didn’t really do it for the money.

It started out small, as these things tend to do. And it was Frankie’s fault, as these things often were. Frankie had wanted to see a show — a concert for an artist that he didn’t even care about, but the boy he’d been flirting with at the time was obsessed with — but it was sold out. And he really, really wanted to go because he’d already told the guy that he’d see him there, and he was pretty sure it was somewhat of a date, and after bitching and moaning about it in Tim’s dorm room for three days straight, Tim said he’d help him out.

Frankie was able to show him what the general admission tickets looked like and Tim just… made one. It wasn’t that hard. Or, rather, it wasn’t that hard to him. He’d already known that he had an eye for detail; he’d been copying famous artworks and paintings for the fun of it for years. But this was the first time that Tim had copied something with a purpose, and he hadn’t even realized how fine the line was between imitation and forgery until that moment.

So that was how it started, thanks to Frankie and his bad intentions. Although, Tim would argue that his intentions were good, depending on how you looked at it.

And that was how a lot of it went, for Tim. He never committed a crime that he couldn’t morally justify in some way — if a few museum pieces mysteriously returned to their rightful owners, then overall that was a net positive, right? And so much of the shit that he’d get tied up in could be traced back to Frankie’s activism — it was Tim’s activism too, by this point, he figured, but in the beginning many of their more federally illegal ideas stemmed from Frankie’s brain.

So he wasn’t bad. He was sneaky, and he was sly, and he was maybe a little bit devious, but he wasn’t bad. He didn’t do it for the thrill, not purely.

And that’s what frustrated Tim to the most, he thought, the fact that Hawk didn’t seem to see that. He was incredibly smart but Tim found him to be rather rigid in his thinking, and there was no grey area in his pure black and white sense of morality and ethics.

So, again. Tim could understand Hawk’s hatred and distrust; Tim was the antithesis of everything that Hawk stood for, and now they were being forced to constantly work together.

But Hawk was the one that signed the papers.

Hawk was the one who had the final say on bringing Tim in.

So somewhere, deep down, there had to have been a part of him that was willing to give Tim a chance.

Right?

—————

As far as roommates went, Helen Smith probably ranked near the top. She didn’t seem bothered at all by the fact that she had a GPS-monitored convicted felon living with her, and was more than intrigued by Tim’s extensive knowledge of art. She was pleased to have someone around that was tall enough to change the lightbulbs, and in exchange for his completion of household tasks she’d cook Tim dinner (which was great, as Tim wasn’t much of a cook himself). She was even a pretty worthy chess opponent.

Best of all, though, she was great at giving Tim his space. Not that Tim ever wanted to get away from her specifically, but he had been a little worried that she would be breathing down his neck (though he would never have admitted that to Frankie). He wasn’t sure of the dynamics between Helen, Lucy, and Hawk, and he wasn’t sure if Hawk would have asked her to keep an eye on him.

But she didn’t pry. When Frankie appeared at odd hours of the night, she didn’t ask what they were up to. She always knocked when she wanted to enter his studio. She kept her questions about his past quick and polite and never asked for more than what Tim was outwardly willing to share. She was a gem, and Tim thought that he might actually miss her once this was all over and he left New York City behind.

In the meantime though, now, Helen had cooked a stew for dinner and had insisted that he have some. It was a bit early in the year for a nice autumnal stew, but she’d had a hoard of produce that was soon to go bad, and so into the pot it went. Even with two healthy portions between the two of them there was more than enough left over.

“You should bring some to Hawk tomorrow for lunch,” she offered conversationally, and Tim’s spoon paused over his bowl.

They didn’t really talk about Hawk. It seemed to have been understood that the topic of Hawkins Fuller was a touchy subject for both of them for different reasons.

Again, Tim wasn’t really informed of the particulars behind the dissolution of Hawk and Lucy’s marriage, but he felt that it was safe to assume that if it came to choosing sides, Mrs. Smith would take her daughter’s.

And as for Tim, well, it was pretty obvious why he and Hawk didn’t speak about each other outside of work.

So they never really talked about Hawk, barring Helen asking Tim a question or two about his time dodging the FBI. It was an unspoken, yet understood — Tim thought — rule.

“Sure, I could bring him some.” He swallowed a spoonful before speaking again. “I’ll text him and let him know.”

They didn’t text often, the two of them. They didn’t have much to speak about, and Hawk was more of a caller whenever he needed Tim’s immediate attention anyhow. But calling about bringing leftover stew for lunch felt strangely intimate and like a level of friendship that he and Hawk had definitely not achieved over the last handful of weeks.

So Tim pulled out his phone, tapping out a text as Helen began to speak again.

“How is that going?”

Tim looked up from his screen, brows quirked. “Work?” When Helen nodded, he huffed out a small laugh. “It’s… going. It could be worse.” It could’ve also been better, but Tim left that part unsaid.

Mrs. Smith seemed to understand anyway, responding with a small shake of her head. “You’re there for how many years? Four?” She continued once Tim nodded. “I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“It’s okay if he doesn’t. I get it.”

Hawk sent back a short “Thanks.” in response to Tim’s text. And that was good, right? Because Tim had been pretty sure that he wasn’t going to respond at all.

—————

Tim decided that the best way to deal with Hawkins Fuller was to not deal with Hawkins Fuller at all. That is to say, Tim spent most of his free time at work with Mary and sometimes Marcus. But mostly Mary.

She was a just-as-smart-but-much-less-intimidating version of Hawk, and when he talked to her, she actually spoke more than three words and an annoyed grunt or groan in response.

And she seemed to be one of the people that Hawk depended on the most, which meant that they’d often be working on the same cases — Tim hoped.

And even if they weren’t, that was fine, because Tim was more than happy to loom over her shoulder to see what she was working on and give his input whether she asked for it or not.

Presently, she hadn’t asked for it, but she spread her papers out on her desk when he approached so he could scan them more easily.

“Real estate fraud,” she told him before he could even read the file. “Boring. Which is why Hawk passed it onto me.” She ran her finger under a few lines of writing at the top of one page for Tim to put his attention there. “Open and shut case.”

Tim squinted at the notes that Mary had written before giving her a smile. “The fact that you think it’s an open and shut case is why Hawk gave it to you, not because it’s boring. Not everyone can figure it out so quickly.”

“You would.” She raised a pointed brow, and when Tim shrugged, she turned back to the file. “Free compliments from Tim Laughlin? What do you want from me?”

“I can’t just call you smart and capable?”

She squinted at him like she was trying to figure him out, and then in lieu of a response she reached over on her desk, picking up another file and handing it to him. “Take a look at this one. Also real estate fraud, not so open and shut. I’m stuck on it.”

Tim took the file from her, flipping it open. “Would Hawk approve of you letting me see this?” He glanced up just in time to see Mary roll her eyes.

“I don’t answer to Hawk.” When he opened his mouth to object, she cut him off. “Well, yes, I do, but I don’t have to run everything by him. I’m allowed to make my own decisions.” She nodded towards the file. “Read it over, tell me what you think. I want to compare notes when you’re done.”

Tim picked up the file and turned back towards his desk, since it seemed like Mary was pretty much dismissing him anyway. He wasn’t sure if it was her version of assigning him busy work or if she genuinely wanted to hear his opinions. As he sat back in his chair he decided that it didn’t particularly matter, though he hoped it was the latter. He liked Mary. He hoped she liked him too.

Tim pored over the file. It seemed simple enough from the outside. As Mary had stated, it was real estate fraud — title fraud to be specific; large amounts of property transferred illegally with forged documents. It all tied back to a man named Doug Bicfolk, and Mary had conveniently already had the team run a search on his identity.

It came back with nothing.

Tim thought that was pretty stupid — he was unsurprised that it was an alias, but he did expect that whoever was behind Mr. Bicfolk would’ve been smart enough to establish his fake identity before trying to cash out on something so large.

And the documents were good too. Tim could easily tell that they were forgeries, but they were good ones. Whoever had made these, or had gone to have them made, knew what they were doing. This wasn’t just an amateur.

But the lack of a viable false identity had him a little stumped, because that was very amateur.

He furrowed his brows, going back to the file that Mary had sent him. And then he didn’t even realize just how much time he’d spent on it until Mary was walking past, rapping her knuckles on his desk to get his attention.

He looked up, pushing his glasses up the slope of his nose from where they’d fallen. “Hi.”

“Lunch?” she asked, gesturing with her head to the two bodies behind her. “Hawk’s treating.”

“Since when?” Hawk sounded scandalized behind her, and Tim weighed in his mind whether free lunch was worth having to deal with Hawk for an hour.

Mary ignored him. “Tim?”

“Yeah, sure.” Tim stood up, stretching as he did so, adjusting his suit jacket. He tidied his desk a little, closing the file.

Hawk’s eyes watched his movements, and he narrowed them at Mary afterwards. “You gave him the Bicfolk case?”

“Told you he wouldn’t approve.”

Hawk looked even more displeased at being correctly assumed upon, turning on his heel and heading to the doors of the office. Marcus laughed as they went to follow him, and Mary threw an arm over his shoulder as they made their way to wait for the elevators.

“What’s your verdict on it so far?”

Hawk pushed the ‘down’ arrow as Tim turned a little more in to Mary to properly respond to her. “It doesn’t make sense. The scheme is well done, and then the alias doesn’t lead to anything.”

“That’s what has you tripped up? Not the fact that there’s no identifiable motive at all?”

Tim frowned, turning to Marcus then as they stepped into the elevators. “No, I didn’t get that far. You’re on this case too?”

Marcus shrugged, and Tim frowned harder. “Is everyone on this case but me?”

Hawk rolled his eyes. “You are on this case.”

“Only because Mary asked me to look at it. You know what I mean. I meant officially.” He crossed his arms. “How come I wasn’t put on it? It’s not like I ever stole land.” Hawk cut him a quick look, so Tim amended with, “Or anything. Only allegedly.”

“Because it was turning into too big of a thing to have you sniffing around it,” Hawk answered. “Which I’m pretty sure I explicitly mentioned before.” He turned to Mary as he said it, and there was a sort of finality in his voice that indicated that he didn’t expect a response to that or a continuation of the conversation at all.

And Tim understood then. Hawk’s mistrust of him went far deeper than he had initially realized, and while he thought that they could coexist on the job, there had been boundaries set that he hadn’t even seen. Hawk only trusted Tim to deal with things that could easily be cleaned up if he failed.

And whatever this case was, it wasn’t one of those. And he had, in his own words, made that explicitly clear.

As the elevator doors opened to the ground floor, Tim realized that he now had a clear answer on whether Mary asked him to look at the file because she wanted to keep him busy, or if she asked because she wanted to know his thoughts. It must’ve really been stumping her if she’d gone against Hawk’s wishes in that way, and as they walked to the restaurant for lunch in silence, Tim wondered just how long she’d been working on it. He waited until they were seated to bring it up again, and when he asked, Hawk sighed.

“We’re not discussing this anymore, Tim.”

“I’m just asking.”

“You’re always just asking.” The response was quick and snippy, and Tim wrinkled his brow. He didn’t think that he asked all that many questions. He looked at Hawk for a second more, but Hawk was pointedly avoiding his gaze and intently focusing on the menu in front of him. So Tim turned to Mary instead, who shrugged.

“About a week, I think?” She turned to Marcus. “About a week, right?”

Marcus thought for a second before nodding. “About a week.”

Tim processed that. “And… most, if not all of the White Collar division is working on it in some way, right?”

Hawk sighed again. “Tim.”

Tim ignored him, waiting for Mary to answer. She considered it before giving it a nod.

“A good majority of us. What are you thinking?”

Their waitress came up then, introducing herself and asking if she could get them started with any drinks. Tim ordered a milk and asked if she could bring them some spare napkins. When she returned, Tim asked Hawk for his pen. And when Hawk looked as if he wanted to deny him, Tim pleaded with his eyes. “I know you always carry that really nice one around. I promise to give it back. It’ll be quick.”

Hawk begrudgingly reached into his inside suit jacket pocket before handing it over, and Tim gave him a small smile in thanks before writing D O U G  B I C F O L K at the top of one of the napkins.

He wrote out FOG before frowning, crossing it out, and starting a new line under it. This time he wrote FLOCK, then changed it to BLOCK, then GOLF, and then GULF. BID COOK GULF yielded nothing.

Mary watched him with interest. “You think it’s an anagram.”

“I think it’s a time-waster,” he corrected. “This whole thing.”

She took a sip of the tea that she had ordered. “Explain.”

Tim paused what he was writing for a moment. “Whoever did this is smart enough to steal millions of dollars worth of land without getting your attention until the final property transfer. In the file they’d been hitting at least two properties a week. You got on them a week ago and they haven’t done anything since.”

“So they know we’re watching,” Hawk surmised. “That doesn’t make it a waste of time.”

“They know you’re watching because that’s what they wanted.”

Tim didn’t understand how it wasn’t immediately clear to them. He didn’t think that he really had a criminal’s mind, but the fact that some of the most effective agents in New York hadn’t drawn the same obvious conclusion that he had was starting to make him feel otherwise. “This entire thing was bait,” he continued. “You couldn’t find a motive because there is no motive, at least, not in the way you’re looking at it. It doesn’t make any sense, a nearly perfectly done fraud scheme that suddenly draws the attention of the FBI. The documents are beautiful. They know what they’re doing. And then they give you a name that leads nowhere and don’t leave any clues to why they’ve done it. And your best resources are tied up for a week trying to figure out a case that they’re never going to solve.” Tim was actually a little proud of it, of whoever had come up with the plan. It was something that he’d wished he would’ve come up with himself, actually. And maybe that would’ve kept Hawk off of his case for longer than a day or two.

“To be clear,” Marcus said, “you think this case is a set-up.”

“I think it’s all smoke and mirrors,” Tim confirmed. “They know you’re stuck, because you’re meant to be stuck. You can’t figure anything else out until they hit again. And until they do — which they won’t — you’re sitting here, wasting time—”

“While they’re getting ready to strike somewhere else, doing something else,” Hawk finished for him, and Tim shrugged lightly.

“If they’re smart — and I think they’re pretty smart — they probably already have.”

He finished writing on his napkin, turning it around for the others to see. A few rows down from the initial D O U G  B I C F O L K, neatly written in Tim’s handwriting was a new phrase: GOOD LUCK FBI.

—————

“You’re too much of a romantic.”

Tim’s shoulders slumped and he shoved Frankie lightly. “It’s not being a romantic to say that I think I made some progress with him.”

Frankie raised one manicured brow before turning back to Tim’s paltry wine selection. “You really think the Suit’s attitude is going to change towards you because you figured out one clue that should’ve been obvious to anyone?”

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

Frankie was right, Tim knew, as he had already been thinking the same. But when Frankie said it he sounded just as unimpressed with Tim as he was with the rest of the agency, and Tim didn’t like it.

“I don’t mean it to be mean, baby. I’m just trying to be realistic.” Frankie gave himself a healthy pour before offering it to Tim. Tim nodded and Frankie poured him some too. “The man’s an asshole. And I don’t know why you’re trying so hard for his approval.”

Tim accepted the glass before moving to sit on his couch, Frankie joining him. “I’m not trying for his approval. Did you listen to the story? I did it because—”

“Because Mary asked you to, against Hawk’s wishes. I know. I heard. I listened. But you’re weirdly fixated on him liking you.”

“He’s my boss. It’s normal to want your boss to like you. Especially when, if they don’t, they can send you back to prison.”

“You don’t think Mary would fight for you? She seems to like you.”

“I like her too. She’s nice.” Yes, Tim had been going out of his way to seek her friendship, but he hadn’t expected Mary to accept him so easily, especially with knowing that she was also friends with Hawk.

“Does she know you’re gay?”

Tim cut his eyes over to Frankie. That wasn’t something that he had considered before, as a reason why Mary was being nice to him. He had thought that maybe she pitied him, felt bad that he was branded with the scarlet letter of being a felon working in an FBI building. He had also thought that maybe it wasn’t as deep as that, and maybe she simply liked talking to him. But he hadn’t ever considered that maybe she could like him in that way. “I’m pretty sure everyone at the Bureau knows about Arthur.”

“Just because she knows you had a boyfriend doesn’t mean that she knows that you only kiss boys. You should ask Hawk.”

“You’re being messy.”

“I’m being inquisitive.”

“You’ve never suggested I go to Hawk for anything,” Tim pointed out, lightly kicking at Frankie’s legs with his toes. “You’re being messy. And nosy.”

Frankie had to laugh at that. “Maybe. But now, until you ask, it’s going to bug you too.”

—————

Three days later, after hovering near Hawk’s office door for about fifteen long, slow seconds, Tim let himself in.

It wasn’t that it really mattered, whether Mary liked him like that or not. But he knew he’d have to let her down easy if she did, and he figured that it would probably be best to nip it in the bud sooner rather than later.

Hawk looked up from his laptop at Tim’s entrance. “Laughlin.”

“I have a question. It’s about Mary.” Tim had rehearsed this a few times in his head that morning, after Mary had given him a cheery hug and he realized he really was going to have to address things. But when Hawk’s eyes bore into him, blue eyes watching him with much more interest now, all of the eloquence that Tim had practiced died right there on his tongue. He twisted his hands together. Hawk made him nervous, he realized, with his pretty, unwavering stare. “Do you think she likes me?”

Hawk’s face twisted in confusion, and it was clear that that was not a question that he had been expecting. He schooled his features quickly, face falling neutral in that Hawkins Fuller-esque effortless fashion. “I’m sure she does,” he said coolly. “Isn’t that what you do, trick people into liking you? You don’t think it’s working?”

It stung, the implication that someone had to be tricked into liking him and couldn’t do that on their own accord. But Tim only shifted on his feet before speaking again, aiming for equal neutrality. “I meant, a bit — you know. A little more like… I’m asking if maybe she…”

Hawk raised his brows as the realization hit him, huffing out a laugh. “Ask her girlfriend.”

“Oh, okay.” Relief flooded through Tim and he instantly felt the tension leave his shoulders, and he gave Hawk what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he backed up to leave. “Thanks.”

He was almost out when Hawk spoke again, stopping him in his tracks. “Disappointed?”

“What?”

“That she’s not into you,” he clarified. “Are you?”

Tim shook his head quickly. “No, I was — I was only asking because I was hoping she wasn’t. I don’t…” He trailed off, wrinkling his nose and wondering how personal and honest he should be. “I don’t like women at all. Not like that.”

Hawk’s resulting look was unreadable. Tim didn’t know what that meant, if Hawk was displeased with Tim’s oversharing, or if he had an issue with Tim liking men.

But, no, that wouldn’t make sense. He’d already known about Arthur, and he obviously took no issue with Mary. So maybe it was the oversharing. It most likely was the oversharing. Hawk did seem to take issue with the fact that Tim talked, in his opinion, far too much.

“Anything else?” Hawk asked, and Tim realized that he had just been awkwardly standing in the doorway.

Tim opened his mouth to reply, but Hawk cut him off, speaking again. “The Bicfolk case. Marcus thinks he might have found a new lead. You should talk to him about it.”

A diversion from the topic at hand and a dismissal all in one. Tim would’ve been surprised if it wasn’t almost expected, and he gave Hawk a quick nod. “Sure. Thanks.” He closed the glass door behind him softly as he exited, and as he gave one last glance over his shoulder, Hawk was watching him with yet another unreadable, but not quite blank, expression.

Tim thought, as he headed towards Marcus’ desk, that their scammer-at-large wasn’t the only one who lived behind smoke and mirrors.

Chapter Text

Hawk begrudgingly officially assigned Tim to the Bicfolk case, but he only did so because Tim had his nose so deep in Mary’s and Marcus’ files that it was already functionally true. He’d been nosing around their desks for days now looking over a stack of documents that he didn’t technically have clearance to touch, offering his opinion when he technically wasn’t supposed to have one. At first, Hawk pretended not to notice. It was easier that way than having to formally put Tim on the case; if Tim wanted to sneak around and give more work for himself, so be it.

But then Hawk received a copy of Marcus’ notes, and while he was no graphologist and tried to stay away from forensics as much as he was allowed—Hawk recognized Tim’s handwriting. And he figured, at that point, he might as well make it official.

The thing was, they were practically going to have to start from scratch—they’d have to pore over everything they’d been through before, making sure the clues they’d previously noticed weren’t deliberate red herrings. They really did need all hands on deck. To Hawk’s chagrin, that meant including Tim.

Or, rather, officially including Tim. He hated that the concession felt like losing.

Tim stayed quiet throughout most of the briefing. In fact, he didn’t even appear to have been listening. He flipped through the documents in his folder at the beginning of the meeting, eyes scanning over the pages before fiddling with a pen and staring out of a window. He wasn’t reading the documents, Hawk could tell. He’d read them too quickly; he was only making sure that they were the same files he’d been sneaking looks at.

Hawk stood at the head of the table, tablet in his hands, and he tried not to let it annoy him. To be fair, Tim didn’t really need to listen, because he was the reason for the meeting after all; his theory being why Hawk and his team were about to fully change direction. But still, when Tim looked out of the window like he’d rather be anywhere else, like he was bored, it annoyed Hawk.

“It’s come to our attention that the suspect’s name is nothing more than an anagram,” he said, and he watched the corner of Tim’s mouth quirk up, though his focus was still out the window. “I want everything run by cryptology to see if there’s anything else we missed.” Hawk pointed towards Marcus as he said it, who nodded in response, jotting down a note. There was a murmur of slight confusion off to his left, so Hawk cleared his throat to continue clarifying.

“We’re starting over from the very beginning. So far, we’ve been goaded into doing exactly what this criminal wanted. This case has been compromised by false assumptions, and—”

“But why? Why do all of this if it has no connection to the bigger crime?”

Before Hawk could answer the voice off to his left, Tim did.

“They’re testing you. Learning our response times and biases. They’re watching us just as much as we’re watching them. Now they know how we operate. Gives them a leg up. They’ve probably started the real crime already.”

Hawk nodded in Tim’s direction. “Thank you. And as you all may have noticed, Tim will be joining us on this case from now on. We’ll be looking at it from a new angle.”

That earned Hawk a few raised brows and a few nods. He wasn’t sure if the surprise was due to him publicly acknowledging and thanking Tim, or if it had more to do with the fact that Tim was on the case at all.

Tim had gone back to fiddling with his pen, looking bored, and Hawk didn’t let the thought linger.

—————

Hawk just wanted to use the coffee machine. But, as he stood there, empty mug in hand, he couldn’t. Because there was Laughlin, standing there deeply engrossed in conversation with an agent, both bodies blocking the coffee machine without a care in the world. As if it wasn’t communal. As if Hawk shouldn’t have dared to think he could enjoy it.

He cleared his throat, and Tim jumped a little in surprise, looking up.

“Oh! Sorry, Hawk.” He took a big side-step like he was giving Hawk the widest berth he could.

The other agent, Mark, spared Hawk a quick glance before shuffling out of the way, not missing a beat in his conversation with Tim. Well, it was less of a conversation and more of Mark just singing Tim’s praises, telling him how smart he was and what cool instincts he had. He laid a hand on Tim’s bicep as he said it, and Tim sent him a bashful smile, and Hawk might have set his mug down with a little too much force in response.

It was unprofessional, was the thing. Openly gushing over a convicted felon’s criminal thinking as an FBI agent was unbecoming, inappropriate, and as Hawk had previously mentioned, unprofessional.

He let it go on for a moment more until he glanced over again and Tim was blushing, and. Well. Obviously he had to draw the line somewhere.

“Aren’t you supposed to be analyzing signatures?”

Tim cut off what he was saying to look over at him, clearly a bit taken aback by the sharp tone of the question. Hawk wasn’t sure why he looked so surprised. That’s almost always how he addressed him.

“I’m taking a break so I don’t get a headache.” He pointed towards his glasses. “Eye strain, you know?”

Hawk gave a noncommittal hum in response. Eyes trained on his coffee, he added, “You should get those blue light blocker glasses. Might help.”

Tim nodded. “Right. I’ll make sure to add those into my very thin budget.”

Hawk didn’t appreciate the sass, especially given the fact that he knew that Tim didn’t have bills. He hadn’t been in contact with Helen Smith directly, but he’d heard from Lucy. Helen wasn’t accepting a cent from him. “It was just a suggestion. Jesus.”

“Well. Thank you for the suggestion.” His eyes lingered on Hawk for only a moment longer before he was turning back to Mark, who seemed a bit at unease from the obvious tension.

“I should get back to work, but maybe we can keep talking over lunch?” His voice rose at the end with hope in a way that disturbed Hawk. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.

So before Tim could answer, he found himself cutting in. “His lunchtime is accounted for, sorry.” He tried to make an expression that seemed apologetic. He wasn’t sure if he hit the mark; he wasn’t exactly known for his sincerity.

Mark nodded at that before saying he understood and excusing himself. Tim stood there as he walked away, mouth set in a thin line.

Hawk could see it from his peripheral vision, and he ignored him until his mug was full, and then he turned to Tim, letting out a sigh. “Well, what?”

Tim crossed his arms. His jaw wobbled like he wanted to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t let him say the words. His eyes were wide in a way that almost made Hawk feel bad, but he wasn’t even quite sure why. All he had done was nip an unprofessional interaction in the bud before it even had the chance to bloom.

When Tim still hadn’t spoken, he raised his brows, taking a sip of his coffee. “Alright, then.” He was turning on his heel to head back towards his office when Tim finally opened his mouth.

“I don’t understand you.”

Hawk paused. “I’m sorry?”

“Am I not allowed to have friends? I can’t talk to people?”

“Keep your voice down.” It wasn’t the right way to reply, Hawk knew. But Tim’s voice was raw with emotionality, and he really didn’t want to draw any attention their way. He turned on his heel to head towards his office, and he knew without looking that Tim was following him. When they got inside, Hawk barely had time to put his mug down on his desk before Tim was talking again.

“You know we didn’t have lunch plans.”

“We do now.” Hawk grabbed a pen, scribbling on his desk calendar. Lunch with Tim. “See?”

“But why? I don’t understand—” Tim let out a frustrated breath. “Can you answer my first question? Why can’t I have friends here?”

“Aren’t you friends with Mary?”

Tim crossed his arms. “And you didn’t like that at first, either. And that doesn’t answer my question. You always do that.”

“You’re learning.”

“Hawk.”

When Hawk looked up to see Tim eye-to-eye, he did, really, genuinely feel a pang of guilt. He was still coming to understand just how sensitive Tim was, and just how little his eyes held back. They betrayed him—no matter how much he tried to appear like he was just annoyed with Hawk, it was clear in his eyes that he was hurt.

“You’re allowed to have friends. That wasn’t the issue.”

“Then can you tell me what I did wrong? I just don’t—you don’t make sense to me, Hawk. I thought I knew you pretty well before, but I don’t.”

Admittedly, Hawk felt another pang of guilt. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Mark was being unprofessional.”

“By giving me a compliment?”

“By flirting with you.”

Tim furrowed his brows. “I don’t think he was flirting with me.”

“He was.”

“Okay. Well. Even if he was, there’s no clause against that. I’ve read the handbook.”

Of course he had. “Of course you have.”

“It would only be an issue if it was, like—me and you. Because I’m your subordinate. And it would be a big conflict of interest and could potentially affect our cases. But even then, it’s still not… it’s not not allowed, there’s just, you know. Ethics.” Tim shifted on his feet, and then hastily added, “Not that I was interested in that, or that it matters. It’s just in the handbook. I read the whole thing over with my friend.”

“Frankie,” Hawk offered, partly because he was interested if that’s who Tim was talking about, and partly because he wanted Tim to stop that babbling train of thought just as badly as Tim himself seemed to.

Tim gave him a look at that. “He would not be pleased to know that the Feds are aware of his existence.”

“We don’t know much about him. I’m sure he knows much more about me.” It was true. They’d done extensive searching on Tim’s background while he was on the run, and while Frankie seemed to be his closest non-romantic connection, they couldn’t find shit on him. Hawk wasn’t even sure if Frankie was his whole name, a nickname, or his real name at all. He was much better at staying off-the-radar than Tim was, to Hawk’s greatest displeasure, and outside of his connection to Tim, they had nothing on him.

“He does,” Tim confirmed, and he smiled at it. Hawk wanted to be annoyed at that but he couldn’t find it in himself to be. “He’s great.”

“I’m not sure you’re a great judge of character.”

Tim gave him a one-shouldered shrug, smile dropping a little. “Maybe not. I thought you’d be a lot nicer.” When Hawk decided to ignore the insult, he continued. “Are we actually going to eat lunch together?”

“We are. You can invite Mary and Marcus if you’d like.”

—————

Mary and Marcus did not join for lunch. According to Tim, Mary had already made other lunch plans, and Marcus had simply replied, “No thanks.”

So it was just Hawk and Tim, which was fine, and definitely not something that Hawk was regretting.

They opted for one of those healthy salad bowl places that Hawk thought cost entirely too much. He paid for both, being that he ordered Tim to come out with him, but he didn’t like it.

And it was awkward. It wasn’t often that Hawk and Tim were alone without the distraction of a case, or being out in the field. And even then, often times there was at least one other agent there with them to break the ice.

“So.” Tim dragged the word out slowly.

Hawk closed his eyes. He would have rather eaten in silence.

Tim stabbed at the greens in his bowl with his fork, examining the bite before chewing slowly. When Hawk focused on him again, he had one elbow resting on the table, chin resting on his palm. “I’m going to be honest. I still don’t understand why I couldn’t eat lunch with Mark.”

“Here we go.”

“You have to admit it doesn’t really make sense.”

“I already told you.”

“But it still doesn’t make sense. Why do you care if—”

“I already told you. It’s unprofessional.” Hawk wanted him to drop it. One thing he had learned about Tim Laughlin was that his persistence did not just stop at his crimes, but very much carried over into his inability to stop poking and prodding for answers until he was satisfied.

Tim furrowed his brows at this. He considered it for a moment, chewing slowly, digesting Hawk’s answer with his bite. Then, finally, he asked, “Would you feel the same way if Mark was a woman?”

“What?”

Tim shrugged halfheartedly. He swirled his straw around in his cup when he spoke next, choosing to focus on that instead of Hawk. “You’re weird about me being gay, I don’t know. Frankie thought I was overreacting, but.” He shrugged again.

For a second, Hawk didn’t know how to respond. He in no way had any qualms about Tim’s sexuality. For one thing, there was Mary. For another, there was Marcus. And also, and probably most importantly, there was himself. “Tim.”

“I know,” he said, “this is the part where you tell me I am overreacting, and then you tell me to stop asking questions even though I’m still confused. Whatever.”

“Not exactly,” Hawk replied, although he very much did want Tim to stop asking questions, whether he was still confused or not. “This is the part where I tell you that doesn’t make sense because I’m gay.”

“What?” Tim seemed surprised, and Hawk could see him processing the comment and deciding how to respond. “No. You’re lying.”

“Now why would I lie about that?”

“Because you’re making fun of me? I don’t know.” Tim shook his head. “But Lucy?”

“Complicated. I’m not lying.”

“Oh. Huh.” Tim considered this. “Is that why you got divorced?”

“Myriad of reasons, largely stemming from that, yes.”

Tim hummed at that. “Do your kids know?”

“They do.”

“What do they think?”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine, actually. It hadn’t been fine for a long time, long before he and Lucy had gotten divorced. But the state of Hawk’s relationship with his kids, and especially his son, where laments that he told Marcus over drinks, not something he wished to share with Tim Laughlin over overpriced lunch, or anywhere.

“You have a tell when you lie, sometimes.”

Hawk shot him a displeased look, and Tim raised his hands in defense.

“I’m just letting you know. And I know, I’m way ahead of you. I pushed it and now you’re not going to answer any more questions. That’s fine. Thanks for sharing.”

Hawk didn’t really know what to reply to that outside of a quick, “You’re welcome.”

The rest of lunch was a bit quieter, until near the end, when Tim looked at him, deep in thought. “So. If it’s not because I’m gay. And it’s not against the rules. Why do you care if Mark, or anyone, was flirting with me?”

“Jesus, Tim. You just keep going, don’t you? Even God rested.”

“I think we’re both a bit stubborn. Maybe to a fault. An unstoppable force meets an unmovable object; one of us has to crack.”

“And what makes you think it’ll be me?”

Tim gave him a smile as he stood up, collecting their trash. It was one that showed his dimples but not his teeth, a bit boyish, and annoyingly, oddly charming. He pushed his chair in with his hip. “You’ve already beat me twice. I’ve got to win one of these times.”

Hawk snorted at that, pushing in his own chair and falling in line behind him. “Keep dreaming, Laughlin.”

In truth, it didn’t matter how many times in however many variations Tim badgered him about the situation, because Hawk didn’t fully know himself. He just knew that he didn’t like it, alright, and there was something ugly in his gut, a feeling he couldn’t quite place when he thought about it. It was just, as he said, unprofessional and unbecoming.

It had no place in their office and that was that.

—————

When they returned to the office, Hawk bristled himself for another line of Tim Laughlin questioning. But almost as soon as they returned Tim spotted Mary, and he went over to her immediately.

“Anything from forensics?”

“Hi, Tim. Yes, my morning was great, thanks for asking. No, I haven’t heard from forensics. What are you thinking?” Mary said it with a laugh, and Hawk didn’t like how easily Tim fit in here, how naturally people responded to him. How Mary, who trusted most people very little (Hawk himself was in that category, he was pretty sure) already treated him like he belonged.

“I’m not sure of anything yet, but I’ve been staring at signatures all morning, and they write with a…” he trailed off for a moment to gather his words. “It’s easier to show you, but there’s a certain slant. But I can’t tell if they’re left-handed, or if they’re used to writing right-to-left. It would be more obvious with a better writing sample, but with just the name it’s so hard.”

“So you’re thinking, maybe—”

Hawk cleared his throat. “We’re not chasing theories yet. We’re verifying. Stick to what you can prove.”

Tim raised his brows. “That’s what I’m doing.”

“It’s what you think you’re doing. We don’t need to theorize about home languages and start assuming things that aren’t true.”

“Right,” Tim agreed. “Because you guys definitely weren’t following false assumptions before.”

Hawk’s mouth narrowed to a thin line, and Mary failed to hold back a laugh.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a working theory while we try to figure out more information,” she said gently, which was really Mary-speak for I think Tim is right and you should be nice. “If we’re wrong, we’ll drop it and pivot.” She turned back to Tim. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s all I’d gotten so far.” He gave them both a smile before excusing himself to his own desk, and once he was gone, Mary sent him a disapproving look.

Hawk sighed. “Save it.”

“No. You’re being weird with him.”

Was that the word of the day? Weird? “In your professional opinion?”

“In my personal opinion. He’s going to be here for four years, Hawk. Which you agreed to. Let him do his job.”

“I am letting him do his job,” Hawk defended. “I just don’t want us to get distracted.”

“He’s helpful.”

“And dangerous.”

Mary crossed her arms. “Frankly, so are you, and nobody steps on your toes. Leave him alone. And stop policing who he talks to.”

Hawk crossed his arms too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about—” Mary cut herself off. “You know what, I’m not playing your game, Hawk. You know what I think?”

“I have a feeling that you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“I think,” she continued, not missing a beat, “that you’re a little sore that Tim isn’t yours to obsess over anymore.”

“What?” Hawk looked around quickly to see who was in their vicinity to have overheard her, considering the fact that they were still very much standing in the middle of the office. “Are you crazy?”

“You played cat and mouse with him for however many years, and everyone knew that he was yours. Now he’s here, and he’s everyone’s, and you don’t like that.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Am I?” Mary asked. She shot him a smile. Hawk didn’t like the way it made him feel.

He excused himself, heading towards his own office. He was irritated.

He made it to his office, sat down at his desk, and opened his laptop. He looked at the files of the isolated signatures, cocking his head as he looked for a certain slant. Through the glass walls of his office he could see, across the room, Tim laughing at something that Marcus said, bright and unguarded.

And Hawk, to his own uneasiness, realized that what he was feeling wasn’t irritation at all. Maybe Mary was right.

It was the beginning of wanting something he had no right to want.