Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hawk had not imagined that anything surprising would happen at the election. He knew in his gut that Eisenhower was going to win, now all there was to do was to watch the show. Tail Gunner Joe would likely end up becoming a problem, later down the line, but Hawk would cross that bridge when he got there.

He had spotted him, entirely by accident; the dark- haired, young man, desperately waving to get the bartender’s attention. Hawk had almost glanced over him, but the thick, black glasses caught his eye. The boy was young, hardly looked old enough to be there, certainly didn’t look like he belonged in that room— his clothes, a little shabby, his posture terrible, his voice overly loud and yet, not commanding any attention… except for Hawk’s, that is.

“What d’you want?”

“What?” the younger man had to yell back at him over the loudness of the room.

“To drink,” Hawk clarified, motioning with his hands so that he would understand him.

“Glass of milk.”

Hawk blinked and inclined his head closer. “What?”

“Milk,” the young man repeated.

“Milk?” Hawk said again, brow knitting together, thinking he surely must have misheard him, but the boy just nodded, clearly not comprehending how that sounded strange, at all. It took a second, but once Hawk realized he was serious, he couldn’t help but to laugh.

He whistled at the barkeep and made the ask, and yes, the bartender looked at Hawk with the same questioning eyebrow that he had given the younger man, but did not argue and sent the glass of milk his way, before getting Hawk another Scotch.

He tipped his glass towards the young man and as the spotlights danced across them, Hawk finally got a better look at him. The boy was his same height, long nose, a pair of big, bug-like brown eyes behind his glasses, bangs of black hair hanging, messily, just above the rims… shy little smile on his face… Damn, he’s cute, Hawk thought. He was actually really cute…

As the night went on, Hawk could not help, but stare at him as he drank his milk, eagerly watching McCarthy take his win, applauding like he had just seen the face of God, only his attention kept getting pulled back to Hawk, and every time it did, the young man would smile again. Hawk felt the corners of his own mouth tug upward. The boy was stunning, actually, in a geeky sort of way, and very, very obvious…

Before too long, it was time for Hawk to head out hunting, but he gave the boy a simple nod of farewell, before he went. Were they anywhere else, he probably would have gone home with the kid, but it was Election Night and this was not the time or place to break his own rules, just because this boy happened to be pretty.

The guy he ended up taking home from the bathhouse that night was nice enough, a little too eager— annoying, actually— but a good fuck. Exactly what Hawk wanted. All he wanted. The last thing Hawk had expected was to find out that the kid also worked for the State Department. Hawk would never have gone near him, had he known that prior, but what was done was done…

It would be almost five months before Hawk would see the man with the glasses, again. This time, in Lafayette Square.

As it turned out, it in fact wasn’t just the lights and the booze of the party. That boy— Tim Laughlin— was actually that attractive. Still that attractive, even as he bravely revealed himself to Hawk as a staunch Catholic, a McCarthy worshipper, he could not find himself to be deterred. If anything, he was all the more intrigued. His suggestive comment about Tim being on his knees in Church had probably been too forward, but Tim had blushed, so Hawk did not dare to take it back.

And really, Hawk ought to be a little brazen. This boy presented a number of intriguing opportunities for him. Chief of which to help keep tabs on Senator McCarthy. Well, chief of which for now, anyway. The rest would come later…

And come, it did.

As Hawk had suspected, Tim had taken the job with eagerness and was now right at McCarthy’s side. Exactly where Hawk needed him to be. He had planned to see the young man again some time, perhaps flirt a little more, see if he wanted to go home, before he broached the more important topics…

But then, there was the book.

The book, Hawk had not expected, nor the note that he found on the inside.

Dear Mr. Fuller,

Thank you for everything

You’re wonderful.

— T.L.

It was short, sweet and to the point… and entirely inappropriate. This was exactly the type of thing that Hawk avoided. Hell, he had ditched that other boy— Eddie something-or-other— just for asking for his number and his name— and here was Tim, already far surpassing all of that.

On the other hand, the rules were not set in stone, so long as one was smart, which Hawk was. Tim Laughlin was useful and… decidedly adorable. Maybe, just once… Hawk would step out of his comfort zone.

Or at least at the time, he had told himself it would only be the once.

And that was how he found himself inside Tim Laughlin‘s room. The good Catholic boy rejected his advances, at first, of course. Normally, Hawk wasn’t one to kiss. Much, anyway. He was fine to just fuck and be done, but it was clear that someone like Tim would need a bit more coaxing to get him into bed.

And so, here he was; Canned chicken noodle soup had never tasted so good. Burnt canned chicken noodle soup, at that. Nor had another man’s armpit…

It didn’t take much to get Tim out of his upper clothes, out of his cross necklace and out of his glasses— part of Hawk had wished he had kept the glasses on, but oh well— It took even less to convince the boy to take off Hawk’s pants and socks, fold them, and put them aside, all while never breaking eye-contact. Tim took direction well, and that made Hawk harder than anything, else— but, that cheeky little smile of Tim’s, certainly helped matters.

“Now, can I kiss you?” Hawk had asked, once he was stripped down to his underwear and stood back up, crowding into Tim’s space.

The boy swallowed, slowly, but did not respond. For a second, Hawk thought that he was going to chicken out and ask him to leave. Good old Catholic guilt, and all that…

But, in the time it took Hawk to blink, Tim’s lips were on his. As soft as he was expecting… And Tim was warm and wet and willing. He kissed Hawk with purpose, a strong, but steady vigour that Hawk had not been expecting, at all. For a boy who seemed so repressed, Hawk had expected him to be more shy, but he was eager and pliant, licking into Hawk’s mouth. He tasted like milk… Hawk owed Father Bob Gallagher a fruit basket or something— Damn, this boy could kiss good.

For a moment, Hawk allowed himself a rare moment to indulge, to lose himself within the kiss, within the way Tim‘s hands clutched at him, holding his body close, before Hawk gave in to passion and tackled them both onto the bed, kissing down Tim’s neck and underarm.

The taste of him was intoxicating, all sweet sweat and soft chest hair— Hawk could have drowned in the aroma of Tim and died, happy. He wasted no time, working his spit-soaked hand into the front of Tim’s pants, wrapping it around his cock.

“Who’s my boy?” He jerked Tim off with a purpose, growling in his ear, revelling in the feeling of Tim’s heart racing against his own chest. “Who’s my boy?”

“I am! I am!” Christ, this boy was loud and oh, so responsive. Hawk could not remember the last time he got this much personal enjoyment out of jerking off another man, but Tim moaned so beautifully, wantonly, shaking in Hawk’s arms, soft tummy rising and falling, rapidly with every ragged breath he took. 

Perhaps, Hawk needed to take his praise of Father Gallagher back. If his boy was losing it, this badly from a simple handjob, Bob had clearly not been a proper lover to him. And something told Hawk that Tim had never had anyone else pleasure him, either and was suddenly determined to fix both.

Hawk had to slap a hand over his boy’s mouth to muffle him, with the way he cried out, his moan forceful, and broken, as though it were being torn from him. Hawk did not dare let up, stroking Tim through his orgasm, holding him still, while his boy squirmed and thrashed in his arms, sobbing into his palm, clearly overcome from the overstimulation. Hawk milked his cock dry, unable to keep from chuckling in amazement at the sheer volume of cum that poured from Tim’s cock over his fist.

It was not until Tim’s cries had devolved into soft whimpers, and his cock stopped spurting, his body unable to do anything now, other than quiver in Hawk’s embrace, that he let him go, bringing his hand up to smear Tim’s creamy release into his own chest hair. “That was nice, Skippy..” Hawk breathed, taking a moment to smell his fingers. Damn, the smell of this boy was like a damn drug to Hawk.

Hawk had watched as Tim had glanced up at the Virgin Mary photo on his wall, frowning deeply, almost disturbed. Hawk felt a little sad. This was what religion did to people… how he hated it.

“Next time, we’ll turn her toward the wall.”

Tim turned to look at him with a raised brow. “There’s going to be a ‘next time’?”

Hawk shrugged, as casually as he could manage. “If you want there to be.”

Tim’s frown turned into a smirk, very quickly. “Well…” he climbed up over top of Hawk, bracketing him with his knees. “Could we make ‘next time’ right now? Because, we seem to have forgotten something...” His eyes flicked downward to the very obvious, thick bulge in Hawk’s underwear as he hooked his fingers into the waistband. “May I?”

May I..? Oh, yeah. This boy was way too sweet for his own good…

Hawk had forgotten about his own cock, almost entirely. He had been vaguely aware of how hard he was, in the back of his mind, obviously, but his interest had been taken up almost entirely by watching the play of emotions across Tim’s face as his orgasm had overtaken him. 

Just breath-taking…

“You don’t have to ask permission.” Skippy’s smirk only grew. He pulled Hawk’s underwear off of him at an agonizingly slow pace, again never breaking eye-contact with Hawk, while he did it. Okay, so this kid could play… “Do your worst,” he told him.

Tim kissed him again, his enthusiasm thankfully not dimmed, at all by their supposed sinning. Hawk could not help but to laugh into his mouth. His eagerness was refreshing, flattering even. 

He grabbed Hawk’s cock, without warning— Hawk hadn’t even seen him spit in his hand, but the glide was smooth, a little clumsy at first, but Tim was clearly determined. He timed the way he thumbed at Hawk’s slit with his kisses, eyes open, watching to see what got him the best reactions. Slow and soft, fast and rough… Hawk couldn’t remember the last time someone was this diligent with his cock and the kid was a quick learner, indeed. It didn’t take long, at all, until Hawk was cumming in his hand, his own groans drowned out by Tim’s lips.

Oh, yeah. There would definitely be a next time…

And next time came sooner than Hawk knew it and he was back at Tim’s door, leaning on the frame, this time with a box radio in hand.

“You didn’t have to…” Tim paused, flushing as he smiled at the radio. “I would’ve gotten one of my own. You didn’t have to get me one.”

“Well, you bought me a book, so…”

Hawk put on Jazz, that night. And loudly. He wasn’t sure how rowdy he and Tim would get, yet, but best to be prepared for anything.

Hawk stripped them both naked, this time, before making good on his promise and spinning the Virgin Mary photo around. There was something pained behind Tim’s expression that Hawk couldn’t read, but he did his best to kiss it away.

“Have you ever been fucked?” Hawk felt Tim shudder against him, moaning softly before shaking his head ‘no’. Hawk sighed softly and smiled. Poor boy, no one had treated him the way he deserved, but there was something so satisfying about knowingly being someone’s first, and the only time Hawk had gotten to experience it, previously, it had been his own first time, as well. ”Turn over.”

Skippy complied in a hurry and he didn’t look nervous, which Hawk was happy about. That would make things much easier. He kissed his way down the column of his spine, letting his hands run over Skippy’s firm, pert, little ass. Christ, this was gonna be good.

Hawk petted Tim’s cheek to get him to look back  at him, bringing his pointer and middle fingers to his lips. “Open,” he ordered and to Tim’s credit, he obeyed, without question. He kissed down Hawk's middle finger, licking at the small strip of skin between the two of them, before taking Hawk’s pointer finger, all of the way into his mouth and suckling at it. A shaky breath fell from Hawk’s lips as Skippy lifted his eyes to look at him, slowly sucking up and down the digit, coating it in his saliva. Once Hawk’s finger was slick and shiny, Skippy took the other one into his mouth as well, sucking at him, harder. “That’s it,” Hawk whispered, hoarsely, cock twitching against his own leg. “Get ‘em nice and wet. You’ll want all the help you can get, later.” Tim resolved to suck him harder, more sloppily, his spit dripping down Hawk’s fingers and Christ, was that ever hot. 

Clearly, Skippy had done something with Father Gallagher, if he was that good with his mouth. And really, Hawk shouldn’t have been surprised, given the way that this kid kissed. 

Hawk pulled his fingers free from Skippy‘s mouth and brought them between his legs. “This might still hurt a little, at first,” Hawk warned, annoyed that his own voice sounded so ragged, already. “I’ll go easy..”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Hawk froze, just as his first finger came to brush against Tim’s hole. “If you don’t want it, we don’t have to-“

“No,” Tim cut him off. “I mean… what if I don’t want you to go easy on me?” He was looking back at him, again, those innocent brown eyes now made of pure lust. Hawk drew a slow, deep breath in. Christ, this boy was going to kill him… “I’m not as fragile as I look, Hawk. I can take it.”

That was the first time Skippy used his name, instead of ‘Mr. Fuller’. Hawk didn’t normally even like his tricks to know his name, let alone say it, but fuck… Why did it sound so good coming out of Tim‘s mouth? Shaking himself out of his daze, Hawk brushed his finger against Tim hole again, earning him another rather vocal moan. 

Yep, that radio was definitely going to come in handy.

Despite Tim’s words, Hawk worked his first finger into him, slowly. Normally, Hawk didn’t care about being rough, but he wanted this to be nothing but good for Skippy. Not just because he was basically a virgin… Hawk just wanted to make him feel good.

Thankfully, Tim didn’t seem to register too much discomfort, to start off with. The amount of spit they were using certainly helped things, but Tim was also far more relaxed, than Hawk had expected him to be, already eagerly rocking back onto his finger. Hawk continued to kiss Tim’s back as he worked himself inside, revelling in how soft his walls were, and once his finger was fully seated, Hawk curled it, just against that lovely spot, deep within him.

Skippy cried out beneath him, and Hawk laughed. Poor, sweet boy, he already sounded so wrecked and Hawk had barely touched him, yet. Quickly changing that, Hawk immediately got to work, tormenting that spot over and over again, and Skippy was squirming and shouting, in his arms. Ooh, boy. Yeah, putting the radio on full blast had definitely been the right decision. Jesus, fuck, this kid was loud!

Ordinarily, Hawk didn’t waste much time with prep, just enough to get the guy stretched and ready to go, but Skippy… Skippy was already so responsive, that Hawk couldn’t help, but to play with him a little. 

Hawk continued to torment Tim’s prostate for a good five minutes or so, before remembering that he was supposed to be stretching and preparing him. He got so distracted, just making the boy whimper for him. Forcing himself to get back with the program, Hawk worked Tim open until he could slip another finger inside, adding more spit as he did. It was clear it probably burned him a little bit, if Tim’s whine was anything to go by, but Hawk wasn’t about to give up. He curled his fingers slowly, pumping them in and out of him, this time, making sure he was used to the stretch before even daring to touch his prostate.

When he finally touched it with two fingers, Tim all but screamed. Fortunately, his boy had the good sense to cover his own mouth this time, because Hawk wasn’t sure even the radio would muffle that noise. Tim kept his hand there and Hawk took that as a signal to keep going, brushing that little bundle of nerves over and over again, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he watched the array of emotions paint their way across Tim’s face. Arousal, anxiety, disbelief— Hawk didn’t quite let him slip into ecstasy. Not yet, but he got him close. 

Part of Hawk was so tempted to keep going, to just finger Tim until he came, watch him fall apart around his fingers, sobbing Hawk’s name. How pretty he would look… But, fuck him, the boy had already made him weak. Hawk was aching, between his own legs, good sense given away to pure desperation.

Hawk pulled his fingers free, despite Tim’s adorable little noises of protest and immediately wet his cock, mixing spittle with his precum, hoping it would be enough for Skippy’s first time. Hawk eased himself in, losing himself in Skippy’s quiet cries, his velvety walls fluttering around him. He was so tight, and warm, clenching and pulling Hawk further into him, his hole clearly aching to be filled.

Christ, this already felt better than Hawk was even expecting. Their bodies fit together so nicely and it was kind of rare for one of Hawk’s tricks to be this pretty. Having both at the same time made Hawk feel almost spoiled. And now, it was his turn to spoil Skippy.

As promised, Hawk started out slow, but Tim was immediately rocking his hips back, against him, drawing him deeper inside with every thrust, his balls now nestled right against Tim’s ass. Oh, yeah. This was going to be good, and probably over, far too quickly, on account of Tim feeling like fucking Heaven…

“Harder,” Tim wheezed, in between his loud moans. “Harder. Fuck!”

“Language, Skippy!”

In truth, his boy probably could have held out much longer, if Hawk hadn’t wrapped his hand around his cock, but he found himself shamelessly close to the finish line, in a matter of minutes and would be damned if he didn’t make his boy cum first.

Tim’s moans suddenly devolved into breathy whimpers and Hawk realized that he was biting his bottom lip to stay quiet. He kissed his neck. “Ease up, Skippy. You’re gonna make your lip bleed. You don’t gotta do that, remember? That’s what the radio is for. You can be as loud as you like.”

Tim clearly took that as all the permission he needed and cried out, guttural and unabashed as he came in Hawk’s hand, white ropes of cum spilling over his fingers as he stroked him through it. A few more thrusts was all it took, and Hawk was cumming as well, buried to the hilt, inside of Tim.

As they caught their breath, Hawk kissed his hair, muttering sweet praise. Christ, that kid, Eddie, that Hawk had gone home with, from the park had nothing on Skippy. This was one of the most satisfying fucks he had had in ages…

Now, really, that was where it should’ve stopped.

Yes, Hawk needed Tim to keep tabs on McCarthy, but he could have and probably should have kept their encounters as infrequent as possible. This was a rule. Hawk never fucked the same man, twice, if he could help it and half the time, when he broke that rule, it was by accident, because he just couldn’t remember the damn man’s face…

With Skippy, it was different.

Their one-night-stand turned into two, and then three, and then four— And they weren’t at all spaced out, either. Hawk was showing up at Tim’s place on the daily, as soon as he got off work— How the kid wasn’t sore yet, Hawk didn’t know. It was like he had been made just to for Hawk to fuck. He took Hawk so well and more than that, he was enthusiastic about it, too. 

And so hot. God, Hawk could not ever forget that part.

By the fifth night, Hawk had decided to take the time to explore a little bit more. To just let his hands run over Skippy, and find out what made him tick. It didn’t take long, as his hands ran over the planes of Tim’s chest, he brushed against his nipples, earning him such an innocent-sounding, little moan.

“Sensitive there, Skippy?”

The boy blushed crimson, but nodded. Hawk let his thumbs brush over the little nubs again, watching to see the hitch in Tim’s breathing. He rolled them between his fingers, smirking down at the younger man as he waited for the moment that he lost what remained of his composure and started to whine.

“Hawk… Oh— Ohh!”

“Yeah,” Hawk chuckled. “You’re real sensitive, aren’t ya’? Brace yourself.”

“Ohh… God! Fuck—“

Hawk had taken Tim’s right nipple between his lips and sucked, teeth, running over the sensitive bud, before dampening the sensation with a wash of his tongue. His other hand glided up Tim’s body until he reached the left one and began to rub over it with his thumb. In an instant, Tim was a mess, moaning, and writhing under Hawk’s touch, his mouth. Playing with Skippy was all kinds of fun. He was so responsive to every little thing that Hawk did, his pelvis quivering as he twisted himself, clearly trying to get some friction on his throbbing erection, as Hawk had decided, for the moment, to ignore it.

“I wonder if I could make you cum, like this..” Hawk moved his mouth to the other nipple. “Just by playing with your nipples?” Tim let out a soft whine, but didn’t reply. He probably didn’t even know the answer, but now, Hawk was determined to find out.

He played with Tim for a few more minutes, watching him shake and fall apart under his ministrations, but giving no protest, just taking everything Hawk offered to give him, like the good boy he was. As close as Hawk’s skilled hands and mouth may have gotten him, it was clear that Tim wasn’t going to be able to cum from this alone. He wet two of his fingers and brought them down between Tim’s legs, gently working the first one into his hole and then the other.

“You givin’ up?” Tim asked in a choked-off giggle.

“Nah, you’re still gonna cum, untouched, but at this rate, we’ll be here all night.” His fingers immediately found Tim’s prostate, earning him a high-pitched noise, as he began to circle them there. “This’ll just speed things up.”

By this point, Hawk was no longer certain that that radio was loud enough… He continued to suck one of Tim’s nipples, while his fingers played with the other, alternating between which one did what to which nipple, all the while, his other hand continued to play merry Hell with Tim’s prostate, ignoring the way that his own cock was throbbing, even more than Tim’s was, refusing to have mercy on either one of them, for the time being.

Tim was hysterical, by this point, given way to his shouts of pleasure, hips canting back against Hawk’s tormenting fingers. Hawk’s insides ached, desperate to just flip Tim over and pound him, senseless. 

Oh, who was Hawk kidding? He was already senseless. 

And eventually, Tim’s moans changed into a kind of incoherent begging. Not words, exactly, but Hawk was astute enough to figure out that Tim was pleading with Hawk to fuck him, or at least just make him cum, already, but Hawk would not give in. Making Tim cum untouched may not have been the goal that he had started with, tonight, but damn Hawk, if he wasn’t going to follow through, now.

“Who’s my boy?” he growled in time with his relentless strokes, eyes trained upward to watch Tim falling apart, barely even releasing Tim’s reddened nipple from his lips to speak.

“I-I am..”

“Who’s my boy?”

“I am!”

“Who’s my boy?”

“I am! I AM! Ohh— fuck! Fuuuck!” It had taken several minutes, Tim was bright red, all over and his eyes were just this side of glassy, but eventually, Hawk felt him clench around his fingers, tighter than a vice, his cock shooting ropes of cum onto his belly, without a single touch. Hawk chuckled, triumphantly, as he fingered Tim through his orgasm, not letting up until he started to spasm, cutting off his own breath, overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Hawk pulled his fingers free, moving to rest them on Tim’s hip, softly, kissing over his chest and stomach, soothing him as he came down from his high. Tim shivered under Hawk’s every touch, thrumming with the aftershocks of his orgasm, finally quiet, wordless, fighting to regain his breath until he found himself able to wrap his arms around Hawk and pull him closer, their noses bumping together as Tim kissed him.

“I..” Tim started, finally, after a few minutes. “I’ve never been able to do that, before. Not even…” Tim flushed, even redder, if that were possible. “..not even with myself.” Hawk inhaled, sharply, images of Tim fingering himself flooding his brain, cock twitching between his legs. “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Where are you sensitive?”

Hawk sighed, silently. Phew. For a second there, he had thought Skippy was talking about… something else. He shook himself out of the daze and kissed at Tim’s neck. “Oh, you know, all the usual places..” He dragged his cock alongside the inside of Tim’s thigh, drinking in the groan that he gave him. Tim wrapped his arms around Hawk and pulled him flush against his chest, attacking his neck in a flurry of fevered kisses.

Damn, he’d thought that the initial orgasm would sate Skippy, some, but he was just as ravenous as always. His lips trailed upward, across Hawk’s jaw, before coming to rest on the shell of his ear. “Mmm..” Tingles washed across Hawk’s entire body, spreading from his ear to his groin as he melted into Tim’s touch. He felt Tim smirk against him, sliding his teeth over the lobe. “Skippy..”

Tim hummed in satisfaction and nibbled at Hawk’s ear, hand stroking over his back. Perhaps, he should have been more bothered that Tim was so quick to find his weak spot, but fair was fair— and fair was also making him hard as nails, right now, so he didn’t waste anymore time.

Hawk slicked himself with spit and slid into Tim with ease, all the prep from fingering him, earlier paying off, well. Skippy didn’t let up on Hawk’s ear, either, fighting through the bliss of the fuck to remain focused on sucking Hawk’s lobe, like it were his favourite treat.

Well, two could play at that game.

Hawk skirted his fingers up Tim’s chest to tweak and roll his nipples, again, grinning against his neck as Skippy’s teeth, finally, mercifully, let up on his ear as his moans overtook him. Had he kept it up, much longer, Hawk would have been cumming, buried so deep inside of Skippy, he might as well be in his throat, and while that was the eventual goal, Hawk would die if he let himself finish first, especially the first time he was fucking Tim, face-to-face.

After precious few delicious minutes of pounding into the sweet boy below him, Tim wrapped his legs around Hawk’s waist, holding him as closely as possible, leaving Hawk unable to do much more than rock, strongly against him as Tim took Hawk’s ear back into his mouth. Little brat. Hawk wet his hand, generously, and wrapped it around Tim’s cock, earning him his most guttural moan yet, as he came, just seconds before Hawk, himself lost control.

As the days went on, their encounters became more and more frequent. And more passionate. Hawk had always made a quick getaway, after his escapades, before; a quick smoke and he was out the door, but Skippy liked to be kissed after sex, he liked to be held and little by little, Hawk came to find that it wasn’t so bad to indulge in such things, every now and again.

So, Hawk found himself lying with Tim for a while at night, after they’d fuck, feeling contented in his warmth, the solid press of Tim’s body against his own. He got uncomfortably used to that feeling, far too quickly. The fuzzy feeling of cuddling Tim and the pillow talk. Yes, it did usually give them the opportunity to go at it, more than once a night, which was lovely, but mostly, they just… laid together.

Tim developed a habit of playing with Hawk’s ears after that first time, both during and after sex, but he also had a habit of tracing over the scar on Hawk’s back. Normally, Hawk didn’t care to be touched there, but Skippy was so gentle and thankfully touched him in silence, so Hawk allowed it.

Unfortunately, that was about the only thing that Tim did in silence. Don’t get him wrong, Hawk loved how loud Tim was in bed and he enjoyed listening to him talk in general, his words going a mile a minute, all passion and nervous energy, but Tim was also… quizzical. Poking and prodding Hawk with small talk, every chance he got and normally, that would be fine. Hawk would just redirect the conversation back to Tim and he would go on about himself another half hour. Not in a vain or egotistical way, just… ardent.

Tonight, however, Skippy didn’t seem amenable to backing off, snapping his family photo album shut as he turned toward Hawk, his thigh draped over Hawk’s own. “I don’t know anything about you. You never talk about your family. Or your politics. What political party you belong to. If you believe in God—“

“Anything else?” Hawk asked, eyebrows rising higher with each question. Did Tim also want to know his blood type, his favourite colour and how many eyelashes he had?

“You never told me about your first lover.” Hawk sighed away the rest of his with that one. Bridge too far. “Or any of your lovers, though I have heard rumors.”

Hawk pressed his mouth more firmly into a line. “Do tell.”

“Jean Kerr says you are unofficially engaged to Senator Smith’s daughter, Lucy. And it’s a scandal, because you practically grew up in the same house..”

Okay, now they were done. “It’s late.” Hawk unwrapped his arm from around Tim and got to his feet, pulling his pants back on.

“What, now you’re angry?”

“I’m not angry,” Hawk assured, trying to soften his voice, but it still came out more sharply than he had meant it to. “But, I don’t like being questioned like a witness in one of McCarthy and Cohn’s show trials.”

“It’s normal to want to know something about the person-“

“Fuck,” Hawk cut him off, firmly. “Person you fuck.” There would be no room left for interpretation there. He was not about to let Tim misread what this was, between them.

“It’s normal to wanna know something about the person I’m fucking,” Tim amended, but then smacked his lip. “That sounds so ugly..”

“Okay. Here you go;” Hawk sighed, deeply, pulling on his undershirt. If his boy wanted to be this unnecessarily Catholic about the whole thing, Hawk would return the favour by being overly blunt. “I’m not engaged to anyone— at the moment. The first person slept with— I didn’t catch his name.” He wasn’t about to talk about Kenny. He didn’t talk about Kenny. That was another rule.

“I said ‘first lover’-“

“I’m a registered Republican, but, I don’t vote because I really don’t see the point and I feel pretty much the same way about God,” he finished bluntly. “Feel free to pray for me, next time you’re at Mass.”

“I’ve stopped going..”

“Well,” Hawk pulled on his shirt. “that’s progress.”

“It’s not funny,” Tim snapped, his voice taking on a cold, pained edge that he had never heard from him before. “I feel like a hypocrite, going to church. Especially when I’m supposed to be spying on my boss, who is regarded as a saint by millions of Catholics-“

“Skippy..” Hawk let his entire self soften, as he stepped towards him. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t wanna do. Not for God…” He took Tim’s cheek in his hand. “Not for me. I mean it.”

Something about seeing the hurt in Skippy’s eyes crumbled Hawk’s defences, in a matter of seconds. Any other day, had a trick said something like this to him, he would be out the door and filing a restraining order, but Tim was different. He didn’t want his boy to be sad or uncomfortable with anything they were doing.

Skippy looked up at him as Hawk stroked over his cheek, wide, puppy-dog eyes pleading. “I just wanna know you.”

Hawk allowed himself a small smile and took Tim’s face in his hands, bending down to give him a long kiss on the forehead. “You know me.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, stranger.” Hawk hadn’t even noticed Marcus come up to the table, before he took a seat across from them, waving to the waiter across the room, to get him another Glen Mhor, on the rocks. “It’s been a minute since I seen you in here. Was starting to think you were dead.”

Hawk chuckled, taking another drag on his cigarette, trying to shake himself out of his glasses-fogged haze. “Not gettin’ rid of me, that easily, my friend.”

“Where you been, then? Don’t tell me you’ve gone celibate? The boys of Lafayette Square will weep..”

Hawk shrugged and took another drag. “Let ‘em. Sometimes one boy requires more of my attention, than the others. They can get in line.”

“You met a guy?”

“I may have..”

“And you didn’t immediately ditch him after you got your cock wet?” Marcus asked, that skeptical eyebrow raised as he sipped his drink. “Isn’t that one of the Seven Signs of the Apocalypse?” Cunt. Hawk rolled his eyes, thinking about the way Skippy would likely balk at a joke like that. “What’s he like?”

Hawk flicked he ashes in the tray, leaning back, trying not to let the full memory of their sensual fuck, last night, flood back fully into memory, lest he get hard in the damn bar, instead choosing to imagine Tim fully clothed, glasses and all, honing in on his drink, hoping the liquor would curb his libido. “Tim is… nice. Kind, bubbly— a little naive, perhaps, but… a real sweetheart.” Fuck. Okay… Apparently imagining Skippy innocently, whilst slightly drunk and horny hadn’t been his best idea, either…

“A sweetheart and he gets a name?” Marcus mused. “He must be some sort of siren, then. That, or you’re comin’ down with a fever.”

“Okay, okay,” Hawk batted Marcus’ hand away from his forehead, rolling his eyes at his feigned concern. “Go ahead, make fun.”

“Is he cute?”

“Very.” Shut up. What is happening to me?

Marcus snickered. “And does he know that? ‘Cause, a cute boy is dangerous, but a cute boy that knows that he’s cute? Damn… I’ll be praying for your soul, my friend.”

“I’m sure he will be, too. And if he doesn’t know it, I sure intend to make him learn.” Oh, my fucking God. What is wrong with me? Hawk choked on his own drink at his words, trying not to cough it back up, the liquor burning his throat.

“Okay, for real, now; Who are you and what have you done with Hawkins Fuller?” Marcus paused, his mouth falling open, slowly, eyes getting that mischievous glint in them that Hawk never liked. “Wait, a minute… Is this that kid, with the milk, from the election party that you wouldn’t stop going on about, for days?”

“I did not ‘go on’, and it certainly wasn’t ‘days’… and yes, it is him.” Despite himself, Hawk took another swig, trying to steady out his voice and soothe the burn in his throat.

“So, when do I get to meet him?”

“If I can help it, never.”

“Hawk, come on. You never go home with the same guy twice, if you can help it, now I find out you suddenly have a boyfriend, all the sudden?”

“No,” Hawk cut him off, sharply. “No. That is not— No. No, we are not doing that. He is not my boyfriend. No. Absolutely not. No.”

“Say ‘no’ one more time, and maybe, I’ll believe you.”

“No.” Hawk went to take another drink, only to find his glass already empty. “We’re not dating. It isn’t like that. We’re just hanging out. We’re fucking. It’s nothing serious. I don’t do that. You know that.”

“I know, but if the guy’s suddenly made you, of all people, turn monogamous, he must be somethin’ special.”

“Now, who said that? I said, I’ve been preoccupied. Not that we were exclusive.” Hawk caught the drag-queen-waiter on the arm, as he walked by. “I’ll take another, and um..” Hawk quickly scanned the room and found his target at the bar. Asian man, older, short, but solidly built, beneath the rain-soaked Mackintosh jacket he wore, looking lonely. “..tell the fella at the end of the bar that his next round is on me.”

Hawk kept his eyes on the man at the bar, until he got his drink, sending him a wink when he raised his glass in thanks. Peppermint schnapps, of course, because memory lane adored just Hawk that much. The thought of tasting it on the older man, later, made Hawk want to hurl. Thank you, Lenny. Fuck you, Lenny. —But, he would be willing to drink the shit from the man’s navel, if it meant getting that pair of glasses to vacate the space behind his eyelids, even for just one night, or at the very least, make Hawk stop talking about him.

Marcus shook his head in exasperation, the amusement gone from his face. “You’re worse than a dog.”

Hawk scoffed. “Yeah, says the guy who has fucked every man in this joint, at least once.”

Marcus’s eyes fell back on the waiter, now a few tables from them, something Hawk didn’t recognize, settling behind his own eyes. “Not every man.”

Hawk would end up going home with the guy from the bar, that night. Where Tim and Eddie talked too much, this man hardly said a word, the whole night. Hawk didn’t even get a name, thankfully, even as he fucked him in the brownstone he so-clearly shared with a wife. Where she was, Hawk didn’t begin to even let himself imagine, but he did let himself leave, rather quickly, after the deed was done, feeling hollow in a way he knew wasn’t just from the whisky…

The next few days filled that hole, though. Filled it with anxiety, that is. 

Hawk hadn’t expected George to corner him at that party, and he expected even less to see Eddie again, at State, though, perhaps, he should have. What really knocked him over with a feather was the way the guy had talked to him. Right there, in the hallway, in front of everyone, no discretion at all. Stuck up. For what, exactly, not wanting them both to get fired? Jesus.

On the other hand, Eddie was one of those land-in-lap opportunities that Hawk couldn’t let himself pass up. Giving George Eddie’s name would save his reputation and get rid of a dangerous thorn in Hawk’s side.

Unfortunately, or… fortunately? Hawk couldn’t tell, anymore— another thorn in his side (one he adored, in this case) decided to show up at his door, while he was half dressed, getting ready for one of Joe Alsop’s Sunday-Night Drunks.

“Skippy, get in here.”

“I heard something.”

Hawk quickly checked the hallway to make sure it was clear, heart pounding as he shut the door. “How’d you find my place?”

“You’re in the directory. Hawkins Z. Fuller. I’d love to know what the ‘Z’ stands for-“

“Next time, you call,” Hawk snapped. “from the phone booth, around the corner.” He watched the flirtatious, cheeky smile fall off of Tim’s face, and felt instant regret at his own words, holding out a hand to stop him, before he could walk right back out. He needed to calm down. 

Everything was fine. They were fine. He was panicking over nothing. True, he didn’t normally let any of his tricks into his apartment, opting for always going to theirs to avoid the hassle and make it easier to leave, but time and again, Skippy was proving not to be just another trick. “Zebadiah,” he offered, as soon as Skippy’s playfulness had returned.

“Zebediah?!”

“Don’t start.” Hawk could practically feel Tim snorting at him, as he left the room to fetch him that beer. He was honestly surprised Tim drank, given the Church stance on any alcohol that wasn’t Communion wine— Wait, is Communion wine even alcoholic? It is. Wait, no. Kids take Communion? Hawk didn’t want to make the quip and risk sounding like an idiot, in front of Tim. He already wasn’t going to let him live down his middle name. In the end, though, it didn’t matter, because when Hawk walked back in the room to see Tim holding Kenny’s paperweight, under the lamp light, the rest of the world fell away. “Give me that.”

Tim hesitated, so Hawk all but snatched it from him, returning it to its rightful place on the mantle, making sure it was straight and centred. Right where it should be. “Now, what did you wanna tell me, Skippy?” Hawk asked, hoping to distract Tim, before he could question him, lighting a cigarette and taking a seat in his armchair.

“There was an argument at the office. About Eisenhower.”

“Take off your jacket.”

“The President is going to issue an E.O.— whatever that is.”

“Executive Order. C’mere..” Hawk patted his thigh and Tim peeled off his jacket and threw it aside, coming to sit on Hawk’s lap, right against his cock. Having this boy in his lap shouldn’t feel so right, but God-damn, did it, ever…

“And they’re worried that Eisenhower is trying to undermine them with it..”

“By taking the lead on the anti-communist crusade?” Hawk wrapped an arm around Tim, undoing a few of the buttons on his shirt. He couldn’t let him stay long, but since he was already here, maybe Hawk could entice him into sticking around for a little fun, when he got home…

“I think so,” said Tim. “Senator McCarthy thinks that they should ignore it, but Roy thinks that-“

“‘Roy?’” Hawk reached inside of Tim’s shirt to pinch at his nipple, grinning at the soft noise it won him and the way Tim squirmed against his crotch. “You on a first-name basis, now?”

“Mr. Cohn thinks the smarter move is to make people think that they— McCarthy and Cohn— are behind the order. That they forced Eisenhower to do the right thing.”

Okay, that was a little more than mildly concerning. “Any idea what the Executive Order’s about?”

“No. I’m sorry. What are you going to do with this information?” Tim asked, as Hawk ran his fingers through his chest hair, while Tim played with the shell of his ear. “Will you share it with Senator Smith?”

Hawk fiddled with the gold cross around Skippy’s neck. “Only if I have to. I try to protect the Senator from his own best impulses.” Hawk kissed Tim’s forehead. “I have to get dressed..”

Tim didn’t let him get up, did not budge from his lap and in fact pushed Hawk back down onto the seat, hand just over the base of his stirring cock. “I wanna go to the party.”

“To Joe’s? I mean, don’t get me wrong, he would glom onto you, like a jellyfish..”

“So, take me.”

Hawk scoffed. The gall of this boy was astounding, sometimes. “You’re not dressed for it. And you don’t have a date-“

“I’d be with you.”

Hawk frowned at him. The idea of walking into a room with Tim on his arm, as his date— it would have been so sweet, were it not so utterly ridiculous and laughable in notion. “This is the real world, Skippy..”

Tim pouted, but didn’t move off. If anything, he slid his hips closer to Hawk’s. “I’m your boy… right?” He swung his leg, so that he was bracketing Hawk, now, their clothed cocks brushing against each other. “Hmm?”

“Well, well…” Tim had begun to slide down, off his lap, ensuring that Hawk felt every inch of their genitals as they dragged against each other, hardening further, by the second.

“And your boy wants to go to the party..”

“How much does he wanna go..?” If his boy wanted to play, who was Hawk to resist? Tim landed on his knees and reached for the waistband of his boxers. “Not yet.” Hawk shoved him back, planting a sock-covered foot against his chest and taking another drag on his cigarette.

Without needing instruction, Tim took a hold of Hawk’s bent calf and pulled the sock free. There was something so methodically arousing about it; making Tim take off his clothes, before he could touch him. There was a practical aspect to it, of making him fold his clothes and neatly put them aside. He couldn’t afford to leave in them, lest anyone figure out what he had been up to. They had to stay pristine, perfect, clean, not a hair out of place. He longed for it, though. How it might feel to have another man tug at him, to be so overcome with desire for him, that he might tear Hawk’s clothes from his body, manhandle him in a way that would leave marks… He couldn’t do that. He was too in the public eye to take a risk like that, so having other men undress him— having Tim undress him, was the closest he would ever get.

Until now, Hawk had always been the player, charming others into giving him what he wanted. Sex, a deal… He couldn’t deny how much he longed to be the one to be seduced for once. And here was Skippy, so ready and so willing…

Tim kissed the at the arch of Hawk’s foot, the ball, his big toe. Hawk let out his cigarette smoke in a shaky breath. “Open up.” Tim took his big toe between those pouty, pink lips, then the second one, sucking at them, greedily, licking the sensitive track of skin between them, as he so often did with Hawk’s fingers. He moaned around his treat, loudly, but not in a fake, forced way. Again, just… pure desire. Hawk was moaning, too, he realized, after a moment, watching Tim work his foot inside of his mouth. Fuck. What the Hell? He had hoped to make his boy work for what he wanted, but fuck, Skippy took assignment well. Having your toes sucked should not feel this good… “Now, show me what my boy really wants.”

Tim groaned, like a dying man and immediately spread Hawk’s legs apart, kneeling between them, shoving his face against his clothed, aching bulge, rubbing against him. “Does he wanna walk into that fancy Georgetown party with my smell on him?” Tim nodded, furiously against him, not lifting his head from where it was one with Hawk, mouthing at the head of his cock, over the fabric, making Hawk all the more desperate. “Does he wanna chat with the Kennedys and the Grahams with the taste of me in his mouth?” Tim was noisy against him, hungry, his hands hooked underneath Hawk’s thighs, lifting his hips and pressing them harder against his face. Hawk didn’t even need to move, at all, lest to take another drag. 

“I suppose I could loan you a tie and a top coat…” he said, at last, just as Tim finally took Hawk’s sex out of the hole of his boxers, breath so hot, it might as well be fire. “…find you a beard.” Hawk gasped when Tim took him into his mouth. Hawk had been expecting hesitation, exploring touches, a few licks and kisses to get the feel of him, before Tim actually started to suck him…

He had been wrong. He had never been so wrong in his life.

Tim took Hawk all the way, without even blinking, encompassing him in that warm, wet bliss. He hollowed his cheeks around him, dragging his lips up and down, before stopping to suckle at the head, as hard as he could. “Ohh..” Hawk’s moan sounded foreign to his own ears. Tim rolled his tongue, wrapping it around Hawk’s cock, encasing almost the entire thing, like he were a goddamn burrito. And when he moaned around him.. “Oh, yeah! Ohh— Ohh, Jesus!” Hawk was arching his back, so far, he was surprised he didn’t fall backward over the chair, but Tim had him in a vice-grip, so there was really no chance at all of escape.

This really shouldn’t have come as this much surprise. With the way Tim kissed, of course he was gonna suck cock like a pro! Damn, Hawk owed Father Gallagher much more than a fruit basket, now, for teaching Skippy this.

Something akin to jealousy mixed with the pleasure as Tim took Hawk deep, again. “Fuck! Fuck! Okay! Okay, I’ll take you! You earned it. It’s the— Ohhh..” Hawk cried out. “-least— least I could do for such a… such a good boy— Oh, God— fuck, Skippy!” Hawk had noticed, pretty early on what a wide, long and flexible tongue Tim had, and had been waiting for the moment he got to experience him properly, but he was wholly unprepared for this.

Hawk had received a lot of blowjobs in his life. A lot. Like, more than was probably healthy, in the grand scheme, and while some were definitely more enjoyable than others, they were all more or less the same. You came, you saw, you sucked, you jerked off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth— in some cases you used too much teeth— you came— literally, in this case (usually, anyway, at least) and then, you left. Never had Hawk been treated like he was someone’s favourite food, like it was a privilege just to suck him, to have someone focus solely on his pleasure, without expecting something in return.

Alright, yes, technically Skippy was expecting something in return, but really, he did not need to go to this much trouble to get what he wanted, and Hawk thought that deep down, Tim must be aware of that. Hell, Tim probably could have just stuck to petting his ear for a few more minutes and Hawk would have probably given in, but this… it was almost like Tim was blowing Hawk for his own pleasure. And also to drive him mad, apparently.

And the closer Tim brought him to his orgasm, the more Hawk began to lose it. “Skippy-! Skippy, fuck! Fuck— Jesus Christ!” Tim growled around him, probably angry at his taking the Lord’s name in vain, but how could he blame him? Tim had sealed the end of his tongue against the head of his cock, flexing it so that it suctioned against his slit, ripping his pleasure from him, from the inside, out. Hawk would have thought he was already cumming, from how much he felt himself leaking into Tim’s mouth, were it not for the abyss being kept at bay, coiled so tightly in his gut, it almost hurt. Christ. How had Tim not made him cum, yet?

Hawk dared to crack his eyes open to look down at him and saw it, Tim’s left hand pinched around the base of his cock, holding his orgasm just out of reach. With everything else Tim was doing to him, Hawk hadn’t even felt it.

“Skippy…” his voice was so weak now. Hawk hadn’t been screaming. Really, he hadn’t, but it was a near thing. “Skippy, enough. Come on. Y-You’ve made your point. C’mo—ohh-on!” Hawk words ended in a moan of as Tim licked the underside of his cock head, the tip of his tongue focusing on the vein there as the hand wrapped around his cock, let go of the base to stroke him, fully now, the other finally releasing hold of his hip to roll his balls, where they were still trapped, tight and sore in his underwear and Hawk could do nothing, but yell out, again, at last cumming into Tim’s mouth.

And bless him— bless him, but Tim didn’t let a drop escape. As much as Hawk might have loved to see Tim’s pretty face painted with his cum, Tim clearly remembered why he was doing this, for when he pulled off, he even licked Hawk clean, despite the aftershocks it gave him, like lighting bolts, and tucked him back into his boxers, as if it had never happened.

Tim sat back on his heels, looking entirely too proud of himself, as Hawk settled himself down, back into a proper sitting position, still shuddering with orgasmic tremors, face buried in the crook of his arm in embarrassment, his smoke having long fallen from his fingers, but likely, nothing seemed to have caught fire, yet. His neighbours were going to kill him, though… This was bad. All the crap he has given Skippy for being loud, during sex— he’d even bought him that radio for the problem, and now here he was, caught completely off guard, gone to pieces over a simple blowjob.

“Hate to interrupt your afterglow, but we’re probably going to be late.”

Hawk let himself snort. “Oh, so he’s a smug boy, now. Is that it?”

Tin shrugged, smiling like an idiot. “Maybe, a little..”

Hawk took a breath and whistled. “You’ve been holdin’ out on me, Skippy… Fuck. Where the Hell did that come from?”

Tim shrugged, finding Hawk’s forgotten and— thankfully doused cigarette on the floor and putting it in the ash tray. “I’ve had a lot of practice, I suppose.”

Hawk raised an eyebrow, because that was definitely not what Tim had told him, the first time. Tim clearly caught his gaze and laughed. “No, not like that, I just mean that… Well… Bob could never… bring himself to go all the way with me, and he… had his preferences about what he liked, so I made a point to learn, any time we were alone, together, which was… often and-“

“I get the picture,” Hawk cut himself off, still breathless. “A+, by the way..”

Tim’s smile only widened. “So, that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, alright, Skippy..” Hawk chuckled, trying to refocus his vision and get anything, even resembling coherent thought, to make its way back into his head. “You earned it.” Tim got back to his feet and pulled Hawk up with him, which he was thankful for, because his legs immediately wobbled. Hawk kissed him, hard, groaning at the taste of himself in Tim’s mouth. “Meet me in the shower. I gotta make a phone call.”

“I thought we were going to the party?”

“We will, but you need to change, I still need to find you a date and you can’t show up to Joe’s, like this...” Hawk squeezed the rather obvious bulge in Tim’s trousers, making him yelp, but still lean into Hawk’s touch, smiling against his neck.

By some miracle, (and after much begging on Hawk’s part) Mary ended up agree to this asinine, last-minute proposal. Hawk could not get the smile off his face. Really, he should have told Tim to just take a cold shower, curb what he was feeling until they got back and Hawk could fuck him, properly.

It was surreal, the idea of bringing Tim back to his apartment. Tim showing up, unannounced was one thing, but bringing him home was something different. They would have to be careful, reenter the building, separately— they would have to leave the building separately, tonight. Yes, just to be safe. That was smart.

Hawk didn’t feel smart when he walked into the shower, to see Tim standing there, naked beneath the hot water, eyes shut, lost beneath it. He didn’t feel anything at all but need. 

Hawk wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist and pulled him in to him, kissing against his throat, feeling the vibration of his contented little hum. Hawk didn’t say a word and, for once, neither did Tim, instead simply melting into Hawk’s frame as Hawk slid his hand down to wrap around Tim’s cock.

Hawk worked him over until Skippy’s soft moans filled the room, mixing with the steam and the patter of the water. This was nice, a soft take-back of control, of just letting Tim shake in his arms, while Hawk stroked him. There was something so hypnotic about how it felt to watch Tim cum. To make him cum. His face, the way his body moved, the noises he made… Hawk was captivated, riveted. He felt powerful.

Hawk would have given anything to just drag Tim to bed and kiss him, senseless, until they both got it up, again. And then, again. And then repeat the process as many times as their bodies would allow. Anything to keep him there, a while long. Yes, eventually midnight would roll around and they would have to call it and part ways, but what a nice night it would be. Soft and comfortable in his own home, without the need to perform, a beautiful boy in his arms, begging all of his attention… but, this was important to Tim. He really wanted this— for reasons Hawk could not credit, but he couldn’t deny him. Not just because of his stellar blowjob skills. No, Hawk could literally feel how excited his boy was…

And things Hawk would do for that smile.

The party was the same as it always was with Joe Alsop. Pretentious, but not unenjoyable. Mary and Tim seemed to be getting along swimmingly, right from the offset, just as Hawk suspected they would. He would scold her later for muttering; “He’s adorable!” in Hawk’s ear, the second Tim wasn’t paying attention, but he could not refute her.

As if that weren’t enough, Marcus found him, fairly quickly. “Almost thought you weren’t comin’. Had to keep Lucy company, you were so late.”

Hawk had apologized to Lucy, profusely, upon arrival and saved her from Mr. Kennedy hitting on her, the second he walked in. The perfect Prince Charming, as always.

“Well, I thank you for your service, my friend. I got… held up.” And my brains sucked out.

Hawk’s gaze drifted across the room to where Tim and Mary were chatting. Every few minutes or so, he’d steal a glance, nothing too long, but Tim had hardly taken his eyes off of Hawk, since they had arrived. Subtlety was something they would have to work on.

“That your milkman?”

“Please, never call him that, again.”

Marcus chuckled, a little too loudly for Hawk’s liking. “Mm, he is cute. You weren’t lyin’. And he definitely knows it.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s something the two of you can bond over.”

“You should bring him by the club, tonight. Show him off.”

Hawk gave Marcus a look. His friend did so enjoy teasing him… “He’s not a trophy wife, Marcus.”

“No… that’s you, right?”

“You’re very funny.” 

Hawk didn’t pay him another mind, making his way over to Skippy at the bar. There was that smile, all broad and giddy. All these pompous snobs and not a one of them deserved to be in this room, half as much as Tim did.

“Enjoying yourself, Skippy?”

“I am. I don-“

“Keep your eyes on the bartender,” Hawk told him, firmly, keeping his own gaze focused there, as well, knowing that sharing one look with the younger man would transport him back to the couch in his apartment, feeling his lips around his cock. “I’ll take you out later for some real fun..”

“Hawk, Lucy wants to know if you’ve gone to China for her drink.”

Hawk could swear he had only been gone, at most, a minute. So, either Marcus was continuing to screw with him, or he had still managed to get lost in Tim, even without looking directly at him.

“This is Marcus. Don’t tell him my secrets. He’s a stinking, rotten, commie journalist.”

Now really, that warning should have been the other way around, as Hawk could only imagine what Marcus was filling Tim’s ear with, about him, but it was what it was, right? He would play the charmer, keep Lucy company and fetch her drinks and pretend that Tim Laughlin was not fucking him with his eyes from across the room.

It wasn’t until Roy Cohn and David Schine arrived with their cigars that Hawk found he could let himself slip away from the party. Still the gentleman, he drove Lucy home and Marcus and Tim took Mary. Hawk would owe her big, for this one; Playing the part of the besotted young lady, so he could take his boy out for a night on the town, when he knew, full-well she would much rather be at home, reading Jane Austen.

Her previous words from days ago echoed in his head, even as they reached the Cozy Corner. “He seems sincere, Fuller. Don’t-” The rest of the sentence had been cut off, by George, but it didn’t need saying. Don’t break his heart.

Well, that certainly wasn’t Hawk’s intention, anyway.

Hawk had thought Tim’s reaction to Joe Alsop’s party was something, but he could never have prepared himself for the way his eyes lit up, upon entering the club. The smooth jazz, all the men locked together in intimacy, not a care in the world for onlookers. Hawk watched as Tim’s nerves melted away, comfort and ease seeping into their place. He didn’t even let Hawk get their full drink order out at the bar, before slotting an arm around his waist and pulling him, flush against himself. “I hope you’re gonna dance with me, tonight.”

Hawk chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll think about it.” Hawk didn’t dance, per se. Not usually, and certainly not with other men, but really… with the way Tim was nuzzling his nose against Hawk’s own, all smiles, fiddling with his ear, even as the bartender told them to keep their distance, Hawk found his resolve crumbling. It was getting harder and harder to say no to this boy.

Offering an alternative, Hawk found himself sat at a table, kissing Tim between drinks, while Marcus sat, mostly forgotten above them, charming his own prospects.

This was nice… Something Hawk didn’t do, nearly enough. Just sit and make out with a guy, without it being a prelude to sex or something else of the like— Yes, Hawk did still fully plan to take Tim back home, later, but for now… they could just kiss. And Tim was so warm and responsive and soft and… slightly tipsy, but Hawk couldn’t bring himself to care, not when every time he would come up for air, Tim would pull him back in, simply uttering; “More.”

“You alright?” Hawk asked, unable to keep the fondness from seeping from his voice as he gave him one final peck.

Tim nuzzled his wrist as Hawk tried to hold his head up, straight. “‘m a lil’ drunk..”

“You don’t gulp Scotch. You sip it.”

Tim shook his head and sighed, deeply. “Okay, Hawk… I have t’ ask you a question..”

“You sure you have to ask?”

“What we’re doing… I’ve stopped thinking about if it’s right or wrong. Or even a sin. I don’t care.” Well, that was certainly progress. “But, there is one thing I don’t think I could live with..”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to marry Lucy Smith?”

And just like that, the blissful serenity around them shattered. Whatever sweetness remained between their lips slipped right off of Hawk’s face, his chest tightening in aggravation. “Christ..” 

He stood and walked away from the table, ignoring Skippy’s whines, as he followed right on his heel. He knew it. He knew it. He knew this was too good. Too much, too fast and now Hawk had the kid thinking that he owed him something, simply because he had indulged his wins for one night.

Tim being quizzical about him was one thing, but Lucy was something else all together and Tim’s line of questioning had moved about as far away from casual as one could get. But, then again, Tim was drunk, so he could maybe let this one go. Get some coffee into him, sober him up and let cooler heads prevail, but it was clear that Skippy wasn’t about to back down.

“We had fun, didn’t we?” Hawk asked him, as he leaned against the bar.

“Yes-!”

“It was a fun night.” Why are you trying to ruin it? “We played a room full of Washington know-it-alls for fools and we got away with it.” Hawk let himself take Skippy’s face in his hands. “You were sweet. Really sweet, but Skippy… that’s all it was. That’s all it can be. I’m sorry..” Hawk had thought he was letting him down, easy really. That this shouldn’t have come as a surprise, at all, really. Tim may be a little naive, but surely he understood the way the world worked.

The look on Tim’s face at Hawk’s words told him, otherwise. Betrayed. Devastated. Hurt. “I committed mortal sins for you… I could go to Hell.”

“Hell’s a fantasy, Skippy,” Hawk snapped, bluntly. He had tried to be respectful of Tim’s religious beliefs, really he did, even though they drove him up a fucking wall, but this was too much. Hawk was not about to let himself be blamed for something they had both engaged in, willingly, and heavily enjoyed. “So is Heaven. The Trinity, democracy and the Holy war against communism. Grand ideas that just get people killed.” Kenny’s face in particular flashed across his mind, again. Hawk pushed it away. “Now, come on, why don’t you sit down-“

“No, I don’t want to sit down!” Tim violently wrenched his arm from Hawk’s grip, because a scene in the middle of the club was exactly what he needed, right now.

“Suit yourself.” Hawk took his own seat and turned away from him, nursing both his cigarette and his drink.

“I don’t know how you do it..” Tim’s voice sounded swollen. “..caring only about what you want. What gives you pleasure at any given moment..”

“Oh, here comes the sermon,” Hawk replied, bitterly, absolutely refusing to look Tim’s way. “You let me know when I should genuflect.” He kept his tone harsh and sharp, as he could, trying to combat what the hurt in Tim’s own voice was currently doing to him.

“I’m not ashamed to feel things,” Tim told him, flatly and Hawk didn’t need to look at him to know he was crying. “That I need to feel things. Believe in things. You’re the coward. Not me!”

Something bubbled deep in Hawk, but it wasn’t anger. He flinched, wanting to look back at the sound of Tim’s footsteps retreating, but forced himself to stay stone-faced, staring straight ahead, nursing his drink with an iron grip on the glass.

“What’s going on?” Marcus appeared at his side.

“Nothing,” Hawk spat, taking another drink.

“You’re just gonna let him leave like that? You’re not gonna go after him?”

“He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

Hawk could feel Marcus’ disapproval, without having to look at him. “You’re a piece of shit. Y’know that?”

That did grab Hawk’s attention, but he got no time to counter, given that Marcus had already set off, out of the bar, calling Tim’s name in his wake. Hawk’s chest tightened as his eyes fell on the untouched mug of black coffee next to him. Why did he feel bad? How was he the bad guy in this situation? He’d been a gentleman all evening, did everything Skippy wanted. All he asked was that Tim not ask questions and he couldn’t even manage that. Not only that, but now Marcus was angry with him? For what? Being honest?

He and Tim were not a couple. Hawk wasn’t his boyfriend or his lover. They were fucking. That was it and Hawk wasn’t about to mince words about that, just to spare Tim’s feelings. He couldn’t have him getting the wrong idea. He couldn’t allow Tim to start falling in love with hi— No. No. Don’t think it. Don’t even consider it. It’s not an option. It’s not what you do.

So, why did it feel like his heart was beating outside of his chest?

Chapter Text

Hawk had wound up getting sucked off in a back room by three other guys that night. Or maybe four? —He had drunk so much, he couldn’t quite remember. 

Managing to curb the hangover, Hawk went to work as normal, but found he could not concentrate on anything. Miss Addison had asked if she needed to send for a doctor after Hawk had failed to understand the question she had asked him, three times, but in the end it took Miss Johnson, whacking him over the head with her newspaper to pull him out of his trance with a silently muttered; “What is wrong with you, today?”

Hawk excused himself, a few hours early. Morton was pissed, but even he had admitted that Hawk seemed out of sorts. Day turned into night and Hawk found himself sitting by the phone, but no call came, not that he was surprised. Dinner ended up being nothing but a giant waste of time, as Hawk had prepared stew for himself, but found he couldn’t eat any of it, that tight feeling remaining in his chest, making it impossible to swallow.

He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning, trying to get himself to go to sleep. He was exhausted. He had barely slept a wink, the night before, and what he did was probably only due to the alcohol. The next day at work was the same, spacey and distracted, but Hawk made it through. Thank God, tomorrow was Saturday. A day off, and he could at least try and get some sleep…

Again, the evening came and went and Hawk barely ate. He was starving, but he just could not do it, for the life of him. After abandoning dinner for the second night in a row, Hawk found himself in a haze of hunger and sleep-deprivation, not even aware he had the phone in his hands, before he realized he had dialled the number for Tim’s building. He slammed the receiver down, before it rang, even once.

He needed a drink.

“Look who’s back.” Hawk had barely even sat down at the bar at the Cozy Corner, before Marcus joined him, stopping the bartender, before he could hand Hawk his Glen Mhor. “All good, Chief. He’s had enough.”

“I haven’t even had one.”

“My point still stands.” Hawk rolled his eyes as Marcus took a seat. “Made sure your boy got home okay, the other night. If you care..”

Hawk stared at him. “Of course I care, Marcus. What the Hell is your problem?”

“My problem is that I was the one running after him, that night. Not you. You know how upset he was?”

“Okay, first of all, nobody asked you to do that. Second of all, who was I to go after him? He’s a grown-up. He can make his own decisions. If he wants to leave, he can leave.”

“Not the point and you know it.”

Hawk sighed and lit a cigarette. “Come on, now why am I the bad guy all of the sudden? Huh? I didn’t tell him anything that wasn’t true.”

“No, but you could have let him down a little easier. He’s… sensitive.”

“I know that, Marcus. I-I didn’t intend to let him down, at all, in the first place. We were having a perfectly pleasant evening. He’s the one who had to go and be so… overdramatic about everything.” He put the butt or his smoke out in the ashtray. “I mean, I get that he’s new at this, but come on. What does he expect me to do? Get down on my knees?”

“Well, you being unreciprocal in that area, has always been annoying…”

Hawk glared at him. “And propose. ‘Get down on my knees and propose’ is what I meant, Marcus. Get your head out of the gutter.” He huffed and shook his head and lit another smoke. “And Tim needs to get his head back in the gutter. Jesus Christ. We’re fucking. We were just fucking. That is all this is. I never promised him anything, so what right does he have to get angry at me?”

“True. True, you didn’t make him any promises and I told him, straight up, you weren’t gonna be looking for anything serious and that if he wasn’t ready for that, he should probably call it off.”

Hawk’s mouth dropped open and now the thing that was brewing within him was definitely anger. “Are you kidding me? Why the fuck would you say that to him? Matter of fact, why the fuck did you say anything to him at all? What right do you have to butt in on my business, anyhow?”

“You need to calm the Hell down. I only said what I said, because it’s fairly obvious that that kid is in this with you for more than just sex and I didn’t wanna see him be strung along for one of your games. He’s a nice kid, Hawk.”

“I’m well aware of that, Marcus,” he snapped, flatly, chest still flaring. “and for your information, I was not ‘stringing him along’. I made myself perfectly clear about what this was from the get-go. It’s not my fault he… caught feelings.”

“And what about you?”

Hawk knit his brows. “What about me?”

“Did you… catch feelings?” Hawk just continued to stare at him, dumbstruck. “Look, Hawk it is obvious to anyone with eyes that Tim has a massive crush on you, which wouldn’t technically be your fault, as I’m sure you did try to nip it in the bud, except for the fact that you can’t seem to admit you’ve got just as big— or if not, an even more— massive crush on him.”

Hawk snorted so hard, ash went up his nose. “I do not have a crush—“ he wheezed, trying to hack it up, out of his lungs. “What are you, twelve?”

“You like him. Admit it.”

“I never said I didn’t like him! I wouldn’t have kept sleeping with him this long, if I didn’t like him!”

“And here, I thought you were just keeping that up, so he would keep tabs on Senator McCarthy.”

Hawk groaned, loudly. “I should never have told you about that.”

“Probably shouldn’t have, no. So, that’s not the only reason?”

“‘Course not. No. Christ, I’m not that shallow..” Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Okay, maybe I am, but I liked him, okay? You know? He was… sweet. And… I mean, he’s incredibly attractive, obviously.” Hawk rubbed the back of his neck, feeling himself sweat. “And… I-I— It felt good, with him, y’know? I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just… he’s gotta learn the way that the world works. It-It’s not personal..”

“So, you were trying to let him down, easy?”

“I tried to.”

“Yeah. Key word, here, being ‘tried’. Too bad you have the subtlety of an anvil. Oddly, it seems, so does he. It’s too bad. You’re kinda perfect for each other, that way.”

Marcus might as well have stabbed him in the gut. “Yeah, well… it’s not like it matters, now. Probably not gonna ever see him, again..”

“Is that what you want?”

Hawk opened his mouth and then closed it. What did he want? Did he even know, anymore? These last days had been torture. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Hawk wasn’t supposed to be the one getting attached like this— or at all.

“Tell you what,” Marcus continued, his tone a little softer, now, handing Hawk back his drink. “You say whatever is on your mind and… I won’t say a word. One way or another. Think of it like talkin’ to a mirror.”

Hawk scoffed, but could see that Marcus was dead serious. His gaze was firm, but kind. He didn’t look to mock Hawk or judge or trap him. His expression was one of gentle concern, only… and one Hawk had never seen him where in the ten years they had known each other. Seriousness was largely not the theme of their friendship, as a rule, so the fact that Marcus was looking at him like this, now… God, was it really that transparent, how Hawk was warring with himself?

“Complete honesty?” He took a long drink and Marcus nodded. “Honestly..” Hawk ran a hand over his face. “I can’t get him outta my head.” The words stabbed him in the throat as they came out. “I can’t eat, can’t sleep… I can’t stop thinking about him. Even when I go to fuck somebody else, I just—“ Hawk swiped his hand and nearly knocked his drink off the bar, but Marcus caught it, just in time. “I miss him.” He suddenly wished his Scotch would turn into poison, steal him away from this conversation, but Marcus said nothing, just kept regarding him, as intently as before, hands folded on the bar. “You’re really not gonna say anything?”

Marcus shook his head and nursed his own drink, until it was done, then stood and clapped Hawk on the shoulder. “I’m gonna head home.”

“Your home, or the home of that cute waiter you keep pretending not to stare at?”

“Fuck— Why do I even bother with you?”

Hawk let himself chuckle, happy to get one last lick in, so he didn’t feel quite so exposed, but in the end, what difference did it make? He still said what he said. Marcus’ lack of reaction didn’t make the words just disappear.

I miss him. He missed Tim. It had been only a few days, no longer than the normal length of time he and Hawk had gone between their trysts, yet this time felt so different… 

Hawk felt sick to his stomach, again and abandoned his unfinished drink. Maybe he would try again, at home.

The whisky went down easier, once Hawk was safely back in his own apartment, but he tried to take it slow, not able to go home sick again, if he went into work, completely useless. He ended up sat on his blue chair, trying to relive the memory of Tim’s mouth on him, as he stroked his cock. Hawk was painfully hard, but had been jerking off for nearly half a damn hour and getting nowhere.

Hawk let out a loud sigh of defeat and flopped over. This was ridiculous. Truly fucking ridiculous. Pathetic, even, but… surely Tim had to be just as miserable, right? Surely, he was also moping around his apartment, sexually frustrated and thinking about Hawk? He hoped— No. No! He did not do this! He didn’t sit around, like some kicked puppy, waiting for some man’s attention. He was not some goddamn teenager for God’s sake— Oh.

Oh. Of course. Of course, he was acting like a teenager, because the last time he felt this way about another guy… was Kenny.

Hawk’s eyes drifted to his mantle, the pain that had been constricting his chest for days migrated and settled deep in his heart. Slowly he stood and walked towards the fireplace, picking up the paperweight in the centre and turning it over in his hand, delicate fingers brushing over the smooth resin. 

He hadn’t allowed himself to properly think about Kenny in years. Changed the subject, any time his name came up at the Smith’s, avoided Tim’s endless questions about his first lover. Lover. He had never referred to Kenny that way. In fact, he had made a point to never name what they were to each other, at all. Couldn’t bear to. And Kenny never pushed, bless him. Never complained. He was more than Hawk had deserved… and so was Tim. 

“You’re the coward. Not me.” Coward. The word stuck in Hawk’s head, more than anything else Tim had said to him, that night. The anger Hawk had felt over it, long since faded, guilt having replaced it. A guilt all too familiar. And deep, deep down, Hawk knew he was right. He’d gotten scared and cut Kenny off at the knees, leaving him with nothing and little explanation and now he was dead and here he was, doing it all over, again.

When the phone eventually rang, Hawk could not help himself, but to answer it at the speed of light, but his hope was dashed in an instant. It wasn’t Skippy, it was George. Honestly, he was the last person Hawk wanted to talk to, right now, but he was insistent about seeing him, and Hawk knew George Bauers. The man didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and if Hawk didn’t go, he would likely wind up showing up at his office, or worse his apartment.

Hawk picked a place out of the way, in plain sight as not to seem suspicious, but far enough away from Capitol Hill that it was unlikely either of them would be recognized from afar.

“What do you want, George?” Hawk asked, coldly and immediately, not wanting to waste any time on pleasantries.

“I cooperated, used that name. They’re gonna let me resign, quietly.”

Really? This couldn’t have been a fucking phone call? “I’m glad it worked out.”

“It didn’t exactly ‘work out’,” George said in a rush, stopping Hawk when he turned to walk away. He dropped his voice low, but it was still stiff with panic. “That kid, the name you gave me, they picked him up. Said they were gonna open an investigation.” Well… obviously. That was the entire point of Hawk having chosen Eddie. His job was moving boxes. He didn’t need to work at State for that. Sure, it was cruel, but he wouldn’t be ruined, completely, the way someone like George would be. The way someone like Hawk would be. “Hawk, he tried to kill himself.” Hawk’s heart dropped. “They had to pump his stomach. I owe the kid something-“

“Stay away from him,” Hawk snapped. “They could still be watching you.” George shook his head at him, despondent, broken. “Listen, go home, kiss your wife, hug your kids. Be grateful for what you have.” Hawk pulled out a smoke and went to light it, desperate to calm his racing heart that pounded so hard in his chest it hurt.

“How am I supposed to live without myself?”

Hawk threw the cigarette down. “Christ, George. How the Hell do I know?”

Is that what Hawk was doing? Living with himself? He wasn’t sure, anymore and over the next few days, things only got worse.

Still fighting the urge to call Tim, Hawk’s guilt over their last conversation was nothing compared to the guilt he now felt over Eddie. He had known the kid would be humiliated, ostracized for being outed that way, but ultimately alright as given his low level of clearance, he had no chance of being suspected as being anything more than a deviant.

Hawk had never felt ashamed of who he was. What he was. He didn’t carry any Catholic or moral guilt, the way someone like Tim did. He was a man who liked to fuck men, and he didn’t apologize for it. He didn’t advertise it, obviously. He wasn’t stupid, but he was also not ashamed. He never had been. Society had never made him feel it, nor the law, not even his own father and they never would. Hawk did what he wanted, to Hell with everyone else and anyone who tied themselves in knots over what everyone else thought of them was a wuss. That was what Hawk had always thought and he had never really given it much thought, beyond that.

Until now.

What might Eddie Kofler’s own family be like, he’d thought. Did they disown him, upon learning of his dismissal? Did they swear up and down they would never speak to him, again? Or had it been the boy’s own shame of what he was that had been too much for Eddie to bear?

Hawk didn’t know. He didn’t want to know, but he couldn’t get his face or George’s words out of his head. Again, Hawk didn’t eat. Again, Hawk didn’t sleep.

If that were not enough, the awaiting anvil in the form of Senator McCarthy and Eisenhower’s E.O. dropped the next day… and it was worse than Hawk could have ever predicted.

Where homosexuals like Hawk had been thought of as deviant, sad, pathetic, disgusting, sick, immoral, ungodly, abnormal, etc, by the Federal Government, before— Joe McCarthy was now giving them something new to consider, to hunt them over.

Their ‘disgraceful’ acts had always been criminal, but now they were being treated as treasonous, a danger to their own country. Losing your job and a few nights in jail were suddenly the least of everyone’s problems and what the M Unit had done to George Bauers had been just the tip of the iceberg. They had let him resign, kept his secret, so long as he gave them a name, but now? Now, all bets were off.

If anyone reported you, saw you doing something nefarious, or even suspected that you were— your life was over. Forget losing your job, your perversion now meant prison, public annihilation— your life as you know it over.

No wonder Eddie Kofler had taken all those pills.

Panic flooded every cell in Hawk’s body, the second the announcement came through and he raced him, gathering as much cash as he could afford into an envelope. His walk to Eddie’s apartment took him back through the park, but where Lafayette Square was usually lively with men, hidden under the anonymous cover of dark, desperate for a stroke of flesh, was empty and dead silent.

When Hawk arrived, he scanned for Eddie’s name and apartment number and let his finger hover over the call button for far too long, before abandoning the idea, all together and just climbing the stairs.

Hawk was probably the last person on Earth that Eddie wanted to see or hear from, anyway and really, what would Hawk even say to him? It was the same reason he hadn’t bothered to write a note with the cash. A few hundred bucks was little consolation to a man who lost everything, but given that Eddie was likely to lose that apartment, before long, it was the very least Hawk could do.

Hawk knew that he should have made his way home, right after that. Only a fool would be going out to the clubs, tonight. Not even Marcus was braving it. But, Hawk didn’t go home and he didn’t find himself at the Cozy Corner, either.

No, instead he found himself heading that familiar path towards Tim’s place. It was a horrible, reckless idea, really. And Hawk doubted Tim even wanted to see him, either, but Hawk had to see him. Had to know that he was okay. This was his fault, after all. He had gotten Tim that job in McCarthy’s office, unknowingly hurling him directly into the lion’s den. Had Hawk known that this was what was coming, he never would have even suggested Tim apply… And how he loved Senator McCarthy— Hawk knew Tim had to be crushed, right now.

Luck on his side, for once, Hawk found Tim about to enter his apartment, that night, grocery bag in hand.

“Skippy… Do you have a minute?”

Tim said nothing. He looked hesitant, but turned to face Hawk, waiting. Hawk had tried to work out, over and over again, what he was supposed to say if he ever saw Tim, again and found only one thing that seemed right, and yet, at the same time, felt so wrong…

The truth.

“Kenny,” Hawk said, finally, despite the way the word physically hurt, coming out of his throat. “That was his name. My first. Remember, you asked?” Tim opened his mouth, in surprise, but let it fall shut, again, taking a few steps towards Hawk, who willed himself to keep going. “Eleventh grade, we played on the tennis team, together.” He allowed himself to sink into the memory. Kenny’s face, the forcefulness of his overhand serve contrasting with the gentleness of the way he used to hold Hawk’s face in his hands while he kissed him. “That paperweight that you saw in my apartment… I was with Kenny when he picked it up on our senior trip. Y’know?” Hawk let himself remember the little gift shop. The other boys had been buying the usual souvenirs— keychains, baseball caps, a couple of them who were over eighteen at the time even got away with getting an ashtray shaped like the Washington Monument— Hawk included, but Kenny had gone for the cherry blossom paperweight. “Sweet Kenny, he loved beautiful things..” Hawk let himself chuckle in fondness, so that he would not allow himself to cry.

Tim opened his mouth, again, taking another step towards Hawk, as if seeming to want to touch him, comfort him, but Hawk immediately pulled away, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning in the other direction, gaze pointed down as a neighbour came out of her apartment building. Thankfully, Tim was able to follow, suit and start reaching into his pocket for his keys, fumbling with them, almost believably, until the woman was gone.

“The other boys razzed him about it, pretty bad. That’s when I started… putting distance between us.” Hawk continued, quietly, once he was certain the coast was clear. ‘Razzed’ was an understatement, truthfully. The way the other boys in their grade had treated Kenny had been nothing short of appalling and Hawk could never bring himself to stand up for him, the way he should have. Their jabs had made Kenny put that paperweight back on the shelf and almost walk out, but Hawk paid for it, at the last second and pressed it into Kenny’s hand, outside by the bus, when no one was looking. Hawk spent the rest of the afternoon telling everyone who inquired that he had gotten a sunburn and not that he couldn’t stop blushing, because Kenny had whispered in his ear that the pink paperweight was only half as beautiful as Hawk was. “I guess you could say… I deserted him.”

Now, this was not the full story, of course, but Hawk would shoot himself, before ever telling Tim what had really happened. How his father had caught them… It wasn’t a lie. None of it. Nothing Hawk was saying wasn’t true. The ‘why’ of it all, hardly mattered, anymore. “I went into the Army,” Hawk continued, finally. “Kenny signed up, too. I think he was trying to stay connected to me, somehow.” ‘Think’. As if Kenny hadn’t begged Hawk to talk to him and joined at the last second in desperation. As if he didn’t write Hawk for years, only for Hawk to burn every single one of his letters without ever opening them. “Only, I ended up in Europe and Kenny was sent to the Pacific. He died on a beach, trying to take Luzon.” Hawk knew his voice was small and hollow. He knew how pained his expression must have been, but Tim just let him talk.

Talking about it had been a mistake. Hawk had known that it would be… Not talking about Kenny aloud had protected Hawk, somewhat, over the last eight years, allowed him not to address the pain or put a name to it… to not have to face it, but now, he was. And the guilt over Kenny mixed with the guilt of Eddie and what he had said to Tim and everything else. It was eating Hawk alive, right where he stood. 

Hawk didn’t know why he was here. He didn’t know why he was telling Tim any of this. Hawk was trying to give him something, somehow. Something tangible about himself, something real. Hawk supposed he had to do something to not make himself feel like such a fucking fraud. The only thing he knew, for certain, was that, for once, he didn’t want to be alone.

“Tim..” Hawk said, after a beat and it was then that he realized this was the first time he had ever actually called him by his name and not ‘Skippy’ or ‘Mr. Laughlin’. “I’d like to come up to your room. I wanna hold you, tonight… If you’ll let me.” If you can forgive me.

“Hawk..” Tim’s voice was just as shaky. “I’m afraid.”

“I imagine a lot of people are afraid, tonight.”

“I don’t mean the Executive Order. I’m afraid of you.”

Oh. Tim may as well have just stabbed him. It would have been less painful, but really, who was Hawk to blame him?

“I don’t know what to do,” said Tim. “What should I do?”

Hawk knew what he wanted to say. Let me in, let me have another chance, let me fuck you, until we both forget how absolutely fucking screwed we are. No. That wasn’t what Tim needed to hear. That wasn’t what he deserved. Honesty. That was what he deserved to hear. “My advice? Go inside, shut that door and lock it behind you.”

Tim frowned at him, considering and for once, Hawk could not read his expression. Slowly, Tim turned away and walked up the steps, without another word and Hawk supposed he had his answer. And that was… fine. That was fair. He could not blame him. Would not blame him. He would respect Tim’s choice and survive it.

Probably.

“Unfortunately, the lock is broken.” Tim had turned back with a mere shrug, before heading inside. Hawk froze, barely breathing, waiting a few moments, just staring at the door, before following him.

This was a bad idea. Tonight, especially. Every step Hawk took was with a shaky breath and his legs felt like lead weights, as they carried him up the stairs. Part of him hoped Tim would have changed his mind, locked his own door, before Hawk had made it up there, taken his choice away, give him an excuse. Fear, guilt. Guilt, fear— It was all swimming inside of Hawk, choking him from the inside out.

When he made it to the third floor, he took off his hat and smoothed down his hair, strangely feeling relief when he turned the mob to Tim’s room and found that it did, in fact, open. Tim sat on his bed, waiting and Hawk let his face soften into a sad smile. Tim looked like he was trying to return it, but his mouth could not seem to quite form the shape.

Hawk came to take the spot next to him and Tim slowly slid a hand up his back, his other held outstretched, awaiting. No longer able to hold himself together, Hawk wrapped his arms, tight around Tim’s shoulders, holding him as close as he could to his chest. For a brief moment, the hug was one-sided, but Tim eventually returned the gesture, tenfold, burying his face in the crook of Hawk’s neck, holding onto Hawk as if he were his lifeline.

They stayed like that, silent for a long moment, until Hawk felt his shoulder dampen and realized Tim was crying. “Shh..” he whispered, stroking the back of his hair. “Don’t cry, Skippy.”

“Hawk, what are we gonna do? I work for him..” Oh. Hawk knew that when Tim had said he wasn’t afraid of the Order, it had been a lie, but now Hawk could feel him shaking, between sobs. “I mean— I-I understand where the Senator is trying to come from. I mean, I-I-I’m sure that he’s just trying to cover all the bases. Do everything in his… power to protect our country from… the Soviets..”

“Shh..” Hawk repeated, more firmly. Something about Tim still so vehemently defending McCarthy, even now, burned something up, inside of him. “It’s gonna be okay, Skippy.”

“How?”

“We..” Hawk paused. Comforting people had never been his strong suit. “Look, you’re right. You work for him. You’re on the inside. As long as you keep your head down, we can stay one step ahead of them all.”

Tim slowly pulled back, just enough to look at him, his big, brown eyes still shining with tears. “We?”

“Yeah..” Hawk wiped away a stray one with his thumb, holding Tim’s face in his hands, trying to breathe to quiet the thrumming of his own heart. “..if that’s something you want, that is. Or, if you’d rather call it quits, you can do that, too.” A selfish part of Hawk hoped Tim wouldn’t pick that choice. Truth was he needed him to keep an eye on Tail Gunned Joe, now more than ever, but he had gotten Tim this job, put him in harm's way. He wouldn’t blame him, in the least, but Tim looked at war with himself, as if unsure of what he wanted or of what to say. “Listen to me, Skippy. Whatever happens… you don’t have to worry. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Hawk shuddered out his words, but as much as they scared him, they didn’t taste like a lie. “I will keep you safe, I promise.”

Hawk had no idea how he planned to do that, of course and if Tim did decide to quit his job, that task would become even harder, but it didn’t matter. Hawk couldn’t bring himself to care about something so mundane as logic, right now, not with Skippy crying in his arms, like this. And especially when he still had that look on his face, like he didn’t believe a word Hawk was saying to him.

Again, how could he blame him for that?

Hawk pulled Tim into him, until they were both lying down on the bed, Hawk plastered against Tim’s back, arm wrapped around his waist, holding his boy to his frame, closing his eyes against his neck, only to hear him mutter a small “oh” into the stillness.

“What?”

“When you said you wanted to hold me, I assumed you meant… Never mind.”

Hawk buried his face in Tim’s sweet-smelling hair, seeking to kiss him there, but at the last second, he wondered if a kiss was still something he would be allowed and pulled away, settling against his shoulder.

Please, stay with me.

Chapter Text

Hawk stayed like that, with Tim for a long time, holding him against the stillness, the silence. Held him tight, stroked over his hair, humming softly against his neck, until he had stopped shaking.

Not another word had been said, between them, that night. It had not needed to be. Hawk had simply done what he had promised and held Tim, cradled him until he eventually fell asleep in Hawk’s arms, fully clothed, glasses still on his beautiful face…

Hawk stayed like that, a while more, just watching Tim sleep, just transfixed. He looked even more beautiful than before. My pretty Skippy… No. No! Fuck, stop it, Hawk. It was after midnight and Hawk knew he had to go. Knew he probably should have skedaddled a while ago, but he just could not help himself.

My pretty Skippy…

Hawk made sure not to wake Tim as he departed, putting his hat and coat back on in silence and slipping back out into the night. He had never seen the city this quiet in his life. The night even felt darker, somehow, as if waiting to swallow him whole. Leaving Tim felt like physical pain, but Hawk urged himself to keep walking, to not look back.

Don’t turn around.

Part of Hawk wanted to run. To just keep walking and never look back, until he was far away from Washington. He could always reenlist; with his record, he’d be invaluable in Korea and would even probably live through it all and then just… never come back. Perhaps it was even the wiser move, but… Tim. Hawk could not leave him.

Hawk fell asleep the instant his head hit the pillow, exhaustion and hunger finally taking over and rendering his body useless, his mind mush— He didn’t care that he was fully clothed, shoes still on. Tim had fallen asleep the same way.

My pretty Skippy…

Hawk didn’t even bother to attempt breakfast, the next morning, apart from the three cups of coffee he drank. He was having enough trouble keeping himself from going into a fit as it was, but the caffeine certainly did nothing to help matters. It was a necessity, though, lest Hawk drop dead, before he ever even made it into the office.

Ever the master of his emotions, Hawk managed to plaster his normal, friendly-yet-smug smile onto his face, treat it like it was just any other normal day, keep Morton and their donors happy, while at the same time actively dodging Miss Addison who continued to not-so-subtly try and flirt with him and Miss Johnson, who was not-so-subtly freaking out.

Hawk tried to send her calm, reassuring looks, pleas that she keep silent and relaxed. The last thing either of them needed was someone to notice either one of them panicking. *Her. Her panicking. Hawk was not panicking. Not yet, anyway…

Surprisingly, the day went by and everything was fine. Not even a mention of the Executive Order from anyone and from what Hawk could tell, no one was being investigated, yet. Not from his department, anyway, so that was good. As 5:00 came, Hawk began to breathe a little easier. He wasn’t about to drop his guard, no Sir, but when he went home, that night, for the first time in days… he did manage to finally actually eat.

The downside was that when you did finally eat something after nearly four days of surviving on pure coffee and booze, you were pretty much guaranteed to vomit whatever that something was, back up. And violently, at that, but Hawk could not care. He had to start somewhere. All that mattered was that he could swallow, again.

The rest of the week passed, more or less the same. There were whispers around the office, of course, about investigations opening into the odd Red or Queer within the Department, but again, no one Hawk knew and no one from his division, as of yet. Even Mary seemed to be back to her old self (after she had cornered Hawk in the stairwell, one day and he had to talk her down from a nervous breakdown) but better her than him.

The one caveat that kept Hawk up at night was Tim. Hawk hadn’t seen or heard from him, since he had left his apartment that night, but that was by choice. Things were calm, now, but the tide could turn at any time and Hawk wasn’t about to watch Tim be hauled off to jail, because he had gotten sloppy and sentimental.

On the other hand, not seeing Skippy brought Hawk more anxiety and stress than the E.O. itself ever could. Were things worse over in Senator McCarthy’s wing of the world? Tim was far from the most subtle man on Earth, nor the most collected. Was he okay? Was he keeping it together? Was he worrying about Hawk as much as Hawk was worrying about him? No. Stop it. This doesn’t do either of you any good.

But, Hawk couldn’t stop and when his phone finally rang that Friday evening, he answered it, embarrassingly quickly, already knowing who it was.

“Hey, it’s me..” came Tim’s soft voice from the other end.

“‘Me’, who?” Hawk could not help himself.

“Very funny.” Yet Hawk was the only one who had laughed. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. You?”

“I’ve had better days. Listen, I’m at the phonebooth, down the block from your building. Can I come up?”

Hawk drew a sharp breath. He had known this was coming, of course. Has been waiting for it, in fact, but the request lit his nerves on fire, nonetheless. Still, how could he say no? “Yeah. Yeah. It’s quiet, right now. Come on up. South elevator, like last time, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Tim hung up without another word and Hawk took a deep breath and looked down at himself. Of course, Tim had to fucking call while he was watching the Milton Berle show in his underwear, elbow-deep in a bag of Chee-tos.

“Fuck me…”

Hawk quickly rid himself of the orange dust and brushed his teeth until his gums felt raw. He was not sure what to expect when Tim got up here, but on the off chance things went the way he wanted, he wasn’t about to let his breath sour things.

Pants. Pants were also required. True, it was not as if Tim had not seen Hawk without them— in fact he did, more often than not— but he figured that he probably shouldn’t make a habit of answering the door to young men in his underwear. Now, shirt… Hawk paused in front of his closet. Realistically, he knew the undershirt he had on was more than fine, but on the other hand, Hawk knew that he looked good in light blue, so that was that.

Hawk used the last few precious seconds he had to attempt to fix his hair. The Brylcreem had long lost its hold and it was a mess, curling and sticking up every-which-way. He didn’t have enough time to reapply and was not about to get caught with a whole mess of product dabbed like crazy into his hair— not to mention the smell would make it so obvious that he was trying way too hard to…

Hawk stared at himself in the mirror, his movement of his hand freezing. He blinked at himself, dumbstruck, his mind finally catching up with the rest of him.

“What the fuck are you doing, man..?”

Hawk shook his head and walked away from the mirror. This was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous. This was Tim. He was not here to ogle Hawk’s appearance or engage in mindless, materialistic flattery. He was here to talk. He wouldn’t care what Hawk was wearing, how his hair looked or how his breath smelled— Fuck, why was he even assuming that Tim would wanna kiss him, again?

Sure, their last encounter had been considerably less hostile than the one before and extremely tender, but it was shrouded in fear, not romance or anything close to it. Hell, Tim could fully be coming up there to tell Hawk he changed his mind and to hit the bricks.

God, Hawk hoped that wasn’t why he was here.

When the knock at the door finally came, logic once against seeped from Hawk’s mind and he made the vain decision to douse himself in cologne as he headed to open the door.

Classy, Hawk. Totally not gonna be fucking obvious at all…

And then, there was Tim; dressed down, simple jacket and polo, no tie, just his hat and his glasses. Just himself. Hawk hadn’t laid eyes on Tim since the night that the Executive Order was signed. Which, granted, was only ten days ago, so how did Tim somehow look ever better than ever?

My pretty Skippy…

Hawk didn’t even let Tim open his mouth in greeting, before pulling him inside by the wrist. “Anyone see you?”

“No,” Tim’s voice was still just as quiet as over the phone. “I was careful.”

Hawk frowned. The way Tim was avoiding eye-contact made him queasy. “You alright?”

“I don’t have anything to report on the Senator,” Tim said. “It-It’s been quiet, so far. No… No one for our division is currently being investigated. Ms. Kerr says it’s only a matter of time until they cover all units, but Mr. Cohn thinks it’s better to go slow, as to ensure proper cooperation from all departments.” His words were rushed and breathy and he still wouldn’t meet Hawk’s damn eye. “To speak strictly, I don’t think they have reason to suspect that I’m… well…”

Hawk couldn’t take it, any longer. He took hold of Tim’s chin and forced his gaze upward. “That’s good, Skippy,” he whispered. “but, I asked how you were.”

Tim’s expression calmed, but something was still laced within it… Annoyance? “Well, I don’t know,” he said. “You show up at my apartment, share more with me of yourself in two minutes than you have in the entire time we have known each other, you let me invite you in and I had assumed your intention was for us to… Next thing I know, I wake up and you’re gone. No note, no calls, no nothing. It’s been a week and half, Hawk.”

“I know. I know, okay? I’m sorry.” He meant the apology to be sincere, but defensiveness crept up in his throat. “But, hey, to be fair, it’s not as if you had reached out to me, either, until tonight.”

“I wasn’t certain that you wanted to hear from me. Thought maybe… I was waiting for you to make the first move, but… I guess, I got impatient.”

Defensiveness morphed its way back into guilt. “I wasn’t… trying to avoid you, Skippy. I just… An over-abundance of caution is probably wisest, right now. I just wanted to get the lay of the land, first. Figure out exactly what it is we’re getting into, before…” Hawk shook his head. “But, I’m glad you came.”

“Are you?”

Hawk stopped, mid-step towards him. “Yes. I’ve… missed you..”

Tim met him, halfway, hand coming up to take Hawk’s, but just before their fingers brushed, Tim stopped himself, forcing himself still. “I’ve missed you, too, but… now, I’m not so sure that I should have come.”

“Because, I said we should be cautious about this?”

“Because of how nervous you look, right now.”

Hawk bit his tongue. “I’m not nervous, Skippy.”

Tim took the hand he still had suspended between them and slowly raised it. Hawk jerked back, but was unable to truly move himself away, without proving Tim’s point for him as he placed his hand against Hawk’s chest. “Tell that to the way your heart is racing,” he whispered.

Fuck. Hawk tried to cover himself with a sultry chuckle. “You make my heart skip for plenty of reasons, Skippy… but, that doesn’t mean I’m nervous.”

“Can you ever just go five minutes without trying to make everything into a joke?”

Hawk shrugged. “No. It calms my nerves.”

Tim raised his eyebrows.

Hawk took as deep of a breath as he could. He had resolved to give Tim something real of himself when he told him about Kenny. It would be a dishonour to both of them, if he backed out, now. “Look, of course, I’m nervous. With what’s going on, you’d have to be stupid not to be, but more so, I suppose I’m nervous because this—“ He gestured between them. “—isn’t something that I do.”

“And what exactly is ‘this’?” Tim asked, repeating his hand-gesture in an exaggerated fashion, his tone still stiff and annoyed.

“You and me. Look, when I fuck a man, that’s all it is. I don’t care to learn his name, or anything else for that matter. No emotional investment, whatsoever. I don’t stick around and I don’t go getting attached.”

“That sounds so empty..”

The cold frankness took Hawk aback about a mile and half. “Okay, one; ouch… Two; Do I go around judging your life choices?” Alright, yes, he did, but not quite that loudly— but fuck, where the was his fucking defensiveness still coming from?

“I’m sorry, that… came out harsher, than I meant it to. I only mean… I mean, don’t you get… lonely?”

Hawk’s insides caught fire and turned to stone, all at once. No. Nope. You tried, but honesty definitely isn’t in the cards for you on that one. “Oh, I’d say I get around enough that that’s never the case.” Hawk’s laugh was, this time, silenced immediately by Tim’s look of contempt. “Look, judge me all you want, Tim, but I live my life how I see fit. I do what I do and I have always been content with that. I never needed anything else. Never wanted it. And that suited me, just fine.”

“Suited?”

“What?”

Tim was almost smirking. “You said ‘suited’, past tense. Does it not suit you, anymore?”

“No, it does, more than amply,” he snapped, hands on his hips, but now he could hear his heartbeat in his own ears and he could see, plain as day, that Tim wasn’t buying a word. “Or, at least, it normally does, except…”

“Except what, Hawk?”

“Except,” Hawk stepped to him, again, so close, their bodies now touching. “then, I met this adorable, Catholic boy from Staten Island and I cannot get him outta my fucking head. I cannot stop thinking about you, Skippy, can’t stop dreaming about you. I can’t stop—” With each word, Hawk buried his face deeper into the crook of Tim’s neck, inhaling the scent of that cheap aftershave of his, until it made him dizzy, but Tim pulled Hawk back, just as his lips grazed the skin.

“You… dream about me?”

Those big eyes might as well have been burrowing into Hawk’s soul. Then again, they always did. “Yeah, go ahead. Make fun. I know that it’s ridiculous-”

“Hawk, I dream about you, too.”

Fuck me. This is way too much, now. “Yeah?” Tim nodded. “Am I naked in them?”

Tim frowned. “I’m leaving.”

Hawk seized him by the shoulders. “No, no, no!” he chuckled, breathlessly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I-I’m sorry, Skippy, just… Don’t go, okay? Please.”

The ‘please’ had come out more pathetic sounding, than Hawk would have liked, but it did return that soulful shine to Tim’s eyes. God, how was it even possible for brown eyes to sparkle so much?

“Say that, again,” Tim whispered.

Hawk let out a huff, but found he had to concede. His hands slid down Tim’s arms and took his own, bringing his face close, once more, not to try and kiss him, this time, but just to breathe in his aroma, let their noses brush. “Please, don’t go. Please. Stay.” Stay with me.

Hawk’s body warmed as he felt Tim smile against his face, nuzzling his nose against Hawk’s until their lips touched. Finally. Tim tangled a hand into Hawk’s hair and deepened the kiss, pressing himself as hard into Hawk as he could. Hawk breathed Skippy’s name against his lips, but it was incoherent against the mess of tongue and teeth. They clawed at each other, fought for the air that passed between them. 

Fuck, Hawk underestimated just how much he had missed this.

Eventually, Tim pulled away, letting them both have a moment to breathe, which was probably wise, because Hawk was getting quite dizzy, but  he absolutely did not wish to stop. The room was buzzing, the lights a little too bright and Tim might as well have been talking under water, because Hawk’s brain could not comprehend a single thing he was saying.

“Sorry, say that, again?”

“I said, I like you in this shirt.”

“Oh,” Jackpot. Blue for the win, Fuller. “This old thing?”

“Yeah..” Tim smirked, just a little. “..but, in my dream, it looked more like this..” Tim began to slowly work on the buttons of Hawk’s shirt, until it was fully open and he could slide his hands along his chest and stomach. “You know… last time I was over, you never really gave me the grand tour.”

“Oh! How rude of me.” Tim rolled his eyes at Hawk’s over-exaggerated tone, but he was still smiling, still had his hands on Hawk, so that was certainly progress. “Well, you’ve seen the living room, the bathroom, the entryway. Kitchen is through there…”

“What about the bedroom?”

Hawk felt his own grin grow feral. “Right this way, Mr. Laughlin.” He took Tim’s hand and led him to his bedroom, his own arousal growing with every step. Hawk flicked on the flights and wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist from behind, pulling him close and resting his chin on his shoulder. “So, what d’you think?”

Tim looked around in marvel, the same way he had about the rest of Hawk’s apartment. “It’s lovely. Pretty much exactly how I had pictured it to be.”

“Ah, been dreaming about getting into my bedroom, have you?”

Tim giggled as Hawk planted a few ticklish nibbles down his neck. “A few times, maybe..”

“So have I..” Hawk growled out, pressing his growing hardness into the small of Tim’s back, hoping he could feel it through his slacks. “but, you are most definitely naked in mine..”

Hawk spun them both around and moved to capture Tim’s lips, again, but Tim shoved him away, not hard, but hard enough that Hawk’s legs caught against the edge of the bed and he fell. For a brief second, Hawk worried he had been too forward, too quick, but Tim almost immediately grabbed hold of his thighs and began to undo his trousers. Thankful he had forwent wearing a belt, Tim was in no time pulling them off of him and immediately moved to fold them.

“Oh..” Hawk chuckled, softly. “Skippy, you don’t have to— I-I live here. I can just…” Tim wasn’t listening. He draped Hawk’s pants over the chair in the corner and came back around to pull his shirt off and do the same with it. Hawk couldn’t help, but smirk as he bit at his lip. “Is this accurate to your dreams of me?”

“Almost..” Tim’s fingers slid up his legs, again and came to hook inside the waistband of Hawk’s boxers and yanked them off and fuck him— Tim was folding his boxers as well. He’d never bothered to before and Hawk had never thought to request, but fuck— if Hawk hadn’t been fully hard already, he certainly was, now.

After draping Hawk’s underwear with the rest of his clothes, Tim slowly walked back over to the edge of the bed, fiddling with his tie. Hawk didn’t know what it was, but there was something delicious about lying, filled nude in his own bed, while Tim looked over him, still fully clothed. 

Fuck, why does he have to be so hot? But, what Tim said next killed him;

“You want me on the bed or on my knees?”

“I…” Hawk couldn’t think. “I um…” Holy Christ, Hawk. Say something. “I…” His brain might as well have been melted cheese at this point. How could he be expected to answer a question? Say something! “Can you hold on, for a second?” 

Hawk got up and Tim frowned. “You want me to leave?”

Hawk blinked at him, his brain still taking far too long to catch up. “What?”

“I can go, if you want me to. I know, I showed up, sort of unannounced..”

“No! No, God.” Hawk grabbed hold of his shoulders, worried he might float away if he didn’t hold on. “No. That’s not— I don’t want you to go. That’s not it, at all. Just give me one minute, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Hawk quickly hurried from the room, trying his best to ignore how ridiculous he looked— fully naked and fully hard— and made his way toward his record player. He was not about to make that mistake, twice. He could no longer afford to. Hawk just put on the record he already had in there, not caring that it was mid-song from where he had left it, days ago.

When he got back into the bedroom, Hawk had opened his mouth to say something, but the words fell away as his eyes fell upon Tim, laying on the bed, completely naked, safe for his socks.

“See something you like, Mr. Fuller?”

Tim’s tone was less seductive than the words he spoke. If anything, he looked a little guarded, still and that look alone was all that kept Hawk from just giving in and pouncing on him. As lovely and inviting as Tim’s body looked, Hawk could not stand to go forward, seeing him still so uneasy.

Hawk walked towards him, slowly, trying to breathe, gather his courage. It was so silly, the way his heart still pounded at the thought of what he was about to do. One would think he was about to ask Tim to join him in a murder-suicide pact, but in reality, all he asked him was; “You wanna dance?”

Tim stared at Hawk’s outstretched hand as if it were some kind of alien. “Sorry, what?”

“I believe I still owe you a dance. Remember, the other night?”

“Oh… Hawk, you don’t have t…”

Hawk took Tim’s arm and pulled him up, anyway, his words falling away. They walked in tandem back out of the bedroom, hands on each other’s hips. Hawk was walking backwards, leading him into the living room, but it was Tim who stumbled, his nose bumping Hawk’s, prompting the older man to give it a soft peck and Tim turned bright red, just as the song around them ended and flowed into another one.

“You’re such a blusher.” Hawk adored Tim’s nose. So long and cute and it pulled together his whole face. He could not help but to kiss it, again.

Tim somehow grew even redder. “I’m Irish. We blush..” Hawk wrapped an arm around Tim’s waist and pulled him closer, slowly beginning to sway with him to the percussion. What song was this? He couldn’t place it. “Hawk… we’re naked.”

Hawk let out a chuckle and weaved the fingers of his left hand with Tim’s, intertwining them. “You just now figuring that out? It’s okay, Skippy. I have the curtains closed. We’re good, here. I promise.”

‘Let me call you sweetheart… I’m in love with you’

Fuuuuuuuuck me… By the time the first couple of words of the song echoed around the room, Hawk realized, but it was far too late.

‘Let me hear you whisper… that you love me, too’

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Stupid fucking Bing Cosby. Fuck me. “Heh..” Hawk let out the most uncomfortable-sounding laugh of his life. Fuck. Just act natural.

They continued to sway to the music, Hawk desperate to look anywhere, but at Tim’s face.

‘Keep the love-light glowing… in your eyes, so blue’

The universe was trying to kill him, surely…

‘Let me call you sweetheart… I’m in love with you’

It’s just a song. It’s just a song, Hawk told himself. Perhaps, Tim wasn’t even paying attention to the lyrics? He snuck a look at Tim’s eyes... Yeah, that clearly was not true; they were blown so wide, they were nearly black and they never left Hawk’s face. 

Fuck. Fuck. Please, do not read too much into this, Skippy. Please, please…

Thankfully, after that, the song faded into a long interlude of pure instrument and Hawk could just focus on the dance, swaying and moving with Skippy to the music, trying to distract both him and himself but letting his hands explore Tim’s body. He kept his touches chaste, at first, just gliding across his chest and down his back, burying his face in his neck, once more, not quite kissing him, but just dragging his lips across the freshly shaved skin, becoming one with the smell of him, but as Hawk’s hand came low, he allowed it to eventually glide past the dip in Tim’s spine and settle on his ass, before giving in and giving it a light squeeze, just as Tim swung his hips just right and slid his thigh against Hawk’s still-aching cock.

Both he and Tim moaned, together, falling ever closer, cocks now pressed flush, together, as the last lines of the song filled the room. Hawk fell still, but Tim pulled back his face and took Hawk’s cheek in his hand, forcing him to meet his eyes.

‘Keep the love-light glowing… in your eyes, so blue’

Hawk let out another horribly awkward chuckle and unlaced his fingers from Tim’s, letting his hand drop. “F-Full disclosure, I was not at all paying attention to which record I put on. It doesn…” Hawk fell silent as Tim’s smile dropped completely off of his face.

‘Let me call you sweetheart… I’m in love with you’

“It doesn’t mean anything.” What a choice of words, there, Hawk. Great job.

“I-I mean…” Hawk’s stomach immediately knotted up. “I didn’t… I just… I’m not… I only meant…” Shit. Hawk has always prided himself on his ability to talk, to charm and yet, here he was, standing in front of the object of all his desires and he could not form a single sentence to save his life. It was pathetic.

Hawk waited for it. The moment Tim would mutter out an excuse and go to gather his clothes and leave the apartment, never call Hawk, again. All this work to get Tim to give him another chance and it was about to go up in flames. Hawk could not help, but to glance at the nearest window and wonder if the four-story fall would be enough to put him out of his misery. 

Hawk clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the blow… but it never came. His eyes flew open, again, a ragged moan torn from the back of his throat as he felt Tim’s hand wrap around his shaft. At once, Hawk was yanked from his haze of panic and thrown back into reality, and reality was that Tim had not gone and did not look as though he had any intention of leaving, anytime soon.

Tim’s gaze had gone from adoring to something almost predatory and Hawk’s cock twitched, hard in his grip. With the other hand that still held his chin, Tim pulled Hawk into another hard, bruising kiss. It physically hurt, the way their faces were pressed together— Hawk’s own teeth stabbed into the inside of his lip— he could start to taste some blood, even, his moan now taking on a pained edge as Tim began to stroke him, rough and tight.

Normally, when Tim jacked him off, Hawk’s head would swim, his body a mess with syrupy pleasure that he normally didn’t feel with other men. What Tim lacked in skill, he always more than made up for with attention, care, sweet words and hot kisses in time with his strokes. Tim took care to take care of him, rather than just beat the meat until Hawk came. Hawk always tried to do the same with him, of course, but detection seemed to come easier to Tim.

Now, though, was completely different; Tim was rough with Hawk— biting, his kisses sharp, his grip raw and stiff. Hawk was certainly no stranger to being rough in the bedroom, but typically he was the one giving it. This… This was completely unSkippy-like and Hawk didn’t know whether to hate it or love it.

Regardless of how Hawk felt, emotionally, his dick was certainly of everything Tim was doing and in little more than a minute, he felt that familiar tight feeling in his groin, his balls. God, he wanted to cum, so badly, but no. Not now. Not yet.

Hawk reached down and forced Tim’s hand still, prying his mouth away from him, fighting to catch his breath. “Woah. Slow down, there, Skippy.”

“Was that… bad?”

“No,” Hawk said, quickly. “the opposite, actually.”

“Oh,” Tim seemed to relax a little. “okay. Good. Are you alright, now?”

Hawk squinted at him in confusion and then caught on. Tim saw Hawk freaking out, right before his eyes, saw him stumble and stutter over his words, saw through his attempt to both convey and further mask his feelings, at the same time. Fuck him, he had slipped up, badly, tonight; laid himself bare for Tim to see, but Tim hadn’t recoiled, the way Hawk would have expected him to. Instead, Tim had taken what he knew worked for Hawk— sex, hard and physical— and used it to ground him, calm him.

“I just wanna know you,” Well, fuck, Tim. Apparently you’re gettin’ there…

“I’m good,” was all the acknowledgment of his own vulnerability that Hawk allowed, before pushing Tim back into the bedroom, wasting no time, this time, before tackling him into bed.

Hawk retangled his lips with Tim’s and while it wasn’t quite as rough a kiss as the previous one, it was a near thing, passion alone leaving Hawk desperate to make their mouths one. Hawk could not get enough of Tim. His whole body ached for him, even more so, now. The fact that Tim had recognized what Hawk was trying to say without him needing to say it was… scary, but so fucking fulfilling.

“Sorry-“ Tim breathed out against the kiss. “-if I was a little too rough, before.”

“You could never.” Hawk slid his hands up and down Tim’s chest, zeroing in on his pert nipples. He rolled those lovely little bud between his fingers, buzzing from the noises Tim made as he played with him, while licking the sweat from his neck.

“Hawk..” Tim whined, weakly. “..I missed you…”

Warmth flooded his chest as Hawk slowly began to stroke Tim’s cock, again. “Oh, Skippy. You have no idea. My pretty Skippy…”

Hawk stared down at Tim, admiring his glistening body, his sweat-damp hair plastered to his radiant and blissed-out face, his nipples and cock in such a pretty flush. Oh, how Tim was leaking for him… It took everything in Hawk not to lick it up. 

Something caught Hawk’s eye, however. Or rather, didn’t catch his eye, more accurately. Tim would not meet his gaze, now. He looked away from Hawk, entirely, his body stiff and the glee on his face snuffed out. That, accompanied by the fact that Hawk was nearly certain he had heard Tim scoff when he had called him pretty, made Hawk let go of his dick entirely and pull back.

“Oh, Hawk, don’t stop,” Tom groaned, hooking a foot around Hawk’s waist, so that he could not move too far away… but, still, he would not look at him.

“Hey..” Hawk took Tim’s chin in his fingers and forced it. “You are gorgeous… You know that, right? I mean, you have to know that…” But, the look on Tim’s face told Hawk no; he didn’t know that at all. “Skippy…” Hawk kissed his nose, once more. “You’re beautiful. You are..” he repeated, when Tim tried to shake his head. “Let me show you, Skippy…” Hawk ran his thumb across Tim’s cheek, readjusting his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Your glasses… aren’t just glasses. They’re a part of your face.” Damn him, Hawk knew just how fucking cheesy this was going to sound…

“Your adorable nose…” Hawk planted another kiss to it and watched as the corners of Tim’s mouth turned back up. “Your smile is infectious… It brightens any room you’re in.”

“Hawk..”

Hawk began to kiss down Tim’s neck. “I love how long your neck is… more room for me to kiss you.” Hawk’s mouth came down to his chest, now. “Love how hairy your chest is… how soft it is… how it smells. Love your nipples..” Hawk tweaked them, again and Tim cried out. “…love what me torturing them does to you..”

“Hawk, please!”

“Please what, Skippy?” he asked, trailing kisses down the hairy trail of his torso, slowly working his way toward his groin.

“Just… more.”

Hawk hummed and bit Tim’s waist, leaving just the lightest indent of teeth in his skin as he wrapped his hand around Tim’s shaft, again. “Love your cock..” he growled. “..the way it feels in my hand.” Tim moaned, loudly. “I love how you cry for me…” Hawk ran his fingers across Tim’s happy trail, pressing down against the hard muscle, just above the base of his cock. “…the way your tummy goes taunt, right before you’re about to cum…” Tim bit into his lip, tangling his fists in the sheets, angling his hips, as if trying to get away from Hawk’s touch. “Don’t do that,” Hawk told him. “Don’t try to hide away from it. I can feel how close you are, Skippy. Let me make you feel good…”

But, Tim’s hand came down to catch Hawk’s wrist, just in time. “No,” he whined. “Stop. Please. Please, don’t…”

Hawk felt something within his chest shatter. Every bone in his body wanted to keep going. He just wanted to make Tim cum, make him feel good. Was he still angry at him, somehow?

As if, again, sensing his panic, Tim brought Hawk's hand toward his mouth and planted a series of soft kisses to the inside of his wrist. “Oh, no, no. I don’t actually want you to stop. I just want…”

“Tell me what my boy wants.”

Tim whimpered, hips flexing against him, grinding his ass against Hawk’s thigh. “You know…”

“I want you to say it.”

Tim blushed like a beet. “Hawk, I can’t..”

“Why not?”

“It’s vulgar.”

Hawk chuckled and rolled his eyes. “We’re grown men, Skippy. I think we can handle a little vulgarity, at this point.”

There it was, again; that look of shame that was like a dagger in Hawk’s soul. “I can’t..” Tim repeated, softly. His hands came to reach up around his neck and he took off his cross, placing it on the table. “Hawk, you know what I want. Please…”

Any other day, just that little plea from Tim would have been more than enough to do Hawk in, make him give Tim exactly what he refused to ask for… but, not tonight. Tonight, Hawk couldn’t just take Tim. He didn’t want to.

Hawk pulled himself away from Tim, entirely, despite the little noise of protest that the younger man made. He moved himself to the edge of the bed, putting a good space of distance between them.

“Hawk… what are you doing?”

“I can’t do this, Skippy..”

“Do what?”

Hawk looked back at him. Clearly, Tim was still coming off the edge of his almost-orgasm, his entire body flushed and heaving, his face still shining with sweat, the look of near-euphoria not fully yet gone from his face, even as words laced his expression. “I can’t… touch you, if I know it’s just gonna make you feel bad about yourself, later.”

Tim sat up and scooted closer to him. “Okay, you’ve lost me, here.”

“Tim, I’m not blind,” Hawk said. “I see the expression on your face, ninety percent of the time, after we finish. The shame…” Tim cast his eyes away from Hawk. “I know that no matter how good you feel in the moment, you feel like crap, afterwards and I hate it.”

Tim shuffled, in place, unable to hide the hurt in his eyes. “I’m sorry..”

Hawk shook his head and took a breath. He had not meant that to come out so venomously. “Christ, I’m not mad at you, Skippy. I’m mad that you devote so much of yourself to something that only serves to make you feel like shit about yourself.”

Tim’s look suddenly turned into annoyance as he met Hawk’s eyes, again. “Hey, remember what you said, not twenty minutes ago, about not judging each other’s life choices? Catholicism does not make me feel like shit, Hawk. How dare you?”

“Oh, bullshit, Tim. You said it, yourself, that you feel like a hypocrite when you’re at church— We have to turn a fucking picture around, just so that we can have sex-“

“That was your idea!”

“That’s not the point. I—” Hawk cut himself off, forced himself to breathe. Calm the fuck down. “I didn’t mean this to turn into an argument. But, if you’re gonna go ahead and tell me that my existence is lonely, I’m gonna tell you that yours is…”

“Sad? Pathetic?”

Hawk blinked wide eyes at him. “I was gonna say ‘suffocating’, but wow. That’s… really how you see yourself, isn’t it?”

“I… Sometimes, maybe.”

“Well, that kills me.”

Tim frowned at him and moved closer, taking his hand. “It’s not about you, Hawk.”

“Yeah, it is!” Hawk groaned, pulling on his own hair. “When the only reason you feel like that is because we’re fucking, or because you want me— it’s absolutely about me.”

“No, it’s about me,” Tim snapped. “Hawk, I don’t feel sad, or pathetic, or like a hypocrite because I feel guilty about how I feel about you. I pretty much gave up on that, after the first time.”

Hawk furrowed his brows. “Then, why-?”

“Because, I feel like I should feel guilty. I should want penance. I should hate myself-“

“No, you shouldn’t!” Fuck, Hawk was almost yelling, now. “You are quite literally the last person on Earth that should hate himself. Fuck anyone who says you should feel like that. Fuck God, for making you feel like that!”

“Hawk-”

“No, listen to me,” he demanded. “I mean it.” He grabbed Tim by the face with both hands. “You are *beautiful*. You are sweet. You’re funny and you’re kind, caring… You’re a good person. Do not ever, *ever* let anyone make you think otherwise.”

“I don’t.” Hawk paused, but did not pull back. “I don’t feel like a bad person, or a flawed person, when I’m with you, or when I think about you, Hawk. It doesn’t feel like sin. I don’t feel like a sinner, with you…” Tim was crying, now and he took Hawk’s face in his own hands. “I feel pure. More pure than I have ever felt in my entire life…” Hawk shuddered out a breath, unable to speak. “Hawk, I have never met anyone like you… and I am so glad that I did. Yeah, there’s a part of me that questions what that means for me and my relationship with God, but that is my problem, frankly. Not yours. I don’t feel like I’m lacking anything by being with you. I love how I feel when I’m with you…” Tim kissed him and Hawk tried to catch his tears with his tongue. “I want to be with you. I. Want. You.” Tim kissed him in between each word and then brought his lips to Hawk’s ear, running his teeth over the shell and lobe, just the way Hawk liked. “And I want you to fuck me, Hawk.”

The words pulled a strangled moan from his throat and Hawk grabbed onto Tim, hauling himself almost into his lap.

“Fuck me, Hawk,” Tim wheezed. “I want it. I need it…” he bit his ear, again and Hawk couldn’t help, but to grind against his hip. “It’s all I think about. You… inside me… fucking me.”

“Christ, Skippy. You don’t have to beg.”

“I need you to understand-“

“I do,” Hawk breathed into his mouth. “I hear you. I do.” Perhaps, Hawk couldn’t disillusion Tim from the dangers of religion and McCarthy, but he could take care of him, here. “Lie on your side..”

Tim did as instructed, he turned his back to Hawk, his lovely ass presented for Hawk, like a present, an offering. He massaged the hairy globes, pulling them open to reveal Tim’s dusky pink centre. “Love your ass..” Hawk breathed, his mouth just inches from Tim’s most intimate area. “..how hairy you are, everywhere.” Something burned inside of Hawk and suddenly he wondered how Tim would taste.

No. Maybe, someday, but not tonight. 

Instead, Hawk spat in his hand, but rather than bring it to Tim’s hole, he wrapped it around Tim’s cock, again, ignoring Tim’s whine and the way he tried to squirm away, holding his hip to keep him in place. “Hawk, no— please! Please, don’t. I mean it — I won’t last… I need you to fuck me!”

Hawk chuckled, but didn’t stop. “It’s alright, Skippy. I’m still gonna fuck you. I promise you, but just cum just like this for me, for now, okay? I’ll make it worth your while.”

Truthfully, Hawk knew Tim had little choice in the matter, his body surrendering to Hawk’s touch, in spite of itself. He moaned and writhed, but eventually gave in, his body curling toward Hawk.

“That’s it,” Hawk coaxed with fast strokes, thumbing roughly over the head. “Cum for me, Skippy. That’s m’boy. Be a good boy and cum for me..”

That did it. Tim bit hard into the pillow, screaming around it as he came and Hawk milked him for all he was worth, making sure to collect all of his sweet, warm cum in his palm, not letting a drop fall, before taking the mass and bringing it between Tim’s legs, smearing it across his rim.

“Hawk-!” Tim whined, always so sensitive just off of his first orgasm, but Hawk was not about to waste time.

“Shh..” Hawk soothed, immediately working the cum into Tim’s hole, his own cock throbbing at Tim’s little broken whimpers. “This’ll make the glide smoother. I know it burns for you, sometimes. Even when you don’t say it. I wanna make you feel good tonight. Only good.”

Tim let out a startled hum as Hawk worked his first finger into him. “Mm… I like it, though. Being able to feel you, afterwards..”

Fuck. Hawk slipped another finger inside of him, without a word. Normally, Hawk wouldn’t waste a lot of time with prep. Time wasn’t something they had and tonight was no different on that account, but tonight, it didn’t feel like a waste. Hawk took care to stretch Tim, properly, ready his hole to take him, before even daring to turn his attention to his prostate.

Hawk liked teasing Tim, but again, he rarely got to do it as long as he would like. It was late, they didn’t have long, but Hawk was not about to let up on gently prodding Tim’s sweet spot, until he was fully hard, again.

Only then, did Hawk slip inside. Despite all of his work, Tim was still so fucking tight, just as always. Hawk has no idea how he has managed not to cum, immediately, but he held firm. He nestled himself, deep, inside of Tim, waiting until he felt his hips start to jerk, before starting to move.

Hawk didn’t fuck Tim how he liked to fuck, how he would normally fuck him. His thrusts were more of a slow, gentle rolling of his hips, while he held Tim’s, the head of his cock never leaving Tim’s prostate. Instead of the usual ragged grunts, Tim’s moans were high and breathless. His hands came up to remove his glasses, but Hawk stopped him. “No. I want you to see me.” Tim watched him, so lost in pleasure he looked almost dead. Death had never looked so lovely. “I love your eyes…” Hawk wheezed as he continued his slow, sensual movements. “…those big, puppy-dog, brown eyes…” Hawk’s words dissolved into moans of his own. This pace would never be enough to get himself off, Hawk knew, but the constant friction to the head of his cock was something damn-near immaculate.

This orgasm wasn’t like Tim’s first. Not an explosion, but a gradual storm, slowly building from within him, before spilling out, like rain in the night. Fuck, Hawk loved making Tim cum untouched.

Hawk gave Tim a good minute to breathe, before he pulled out, knowing this had been intense. When he did, he didn’t pull away from him, instead wiping him off, gently with his handkerchief and wrapping an arm around his waist, careful to avoid Tim’s oversensitive cock as he pulled him closer.

They laid like that for a long moment, Hawk almost drifting off to sleep, struggling to stay away, before he noticed Tim had sat up and was looking at him annoyedly, again. “What?”

“You didn’t finish.”

Hawk looked down, his cock still fully at attention, shiny and red. It hurt, but it was nothing he couldn’t ignore. “That’s okay. Tonight was about you. I don’t need to cum, every time we’re together.”

Tim frowned. “Don’t you want to?”

“Well, obviously, sure, but…” Fuck, how should he say this? ‘This isn’t just about getting my cock wet; you and me. Maybe, at first, but you’re not just some trick. I can’t keep pretending that this is just casual, between us, anymore, and I need you to feel that, too. To know that.’ That. That was what he should stay, but instead, all he could actually do was shrug.

Tim did not look at all satisfied by that response and grabbed Hawk’s shoulders, flipping him onto his back and leaning down, between his legs.

Oh, what a good boy… “Tim… you really don’t have to— uuugh — ohh!” Tim took Hawk deep into his mouth, without any warning and Hawk all but jackknifed, hands immediately flying into Tim’s hair. “Skippy… Jesus!” Tim did that suctioning motion over the head, again. “Holy fuck! Oh, my God! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Yeah, Hawk was not going to last at all, but he credited that to how close he had already been, not specifically to anything in particular that Tim was doing to him. 

A liar even to himself.

Hawk’s body bowed inward, his knees and stomach compressing Tim’s head as the younger man behaved mercilessly with his dick, only moaning when Hawk’s nails dig into his scalp, ramping up his speed. Really, it was unfair how good Tim was at this. Not fair AT ALL. Hawk had always prided himself on his iron-willed restraint…

“FUCK! Oh, my— Skippy! Fuck, that’s my good boy! Fuck, yes! That’s it… Make me cum. Fucking make me c—ohh… Yes. Fuck, that’s good…”

Yep, restraint be gone.

It took Hawk an embarrassingly long time to unhook himself from the death-grip he had around Tim’s skull, but given that Tim was licking whatever he did not swallow off of Hawk and leaving tiny kisses in its place, he certainly did not seem to mind too much.

When Tim eventually sat up, Hawk only gave him a second to breathe, before kissing him. He felt like the luckiest man alive. “You… are definitely in the wrong line of work, my friend.” Hawk sat up at Tim’s confused expression and held his hands up, like a sign, still panting. “Skippy; Professional Cock-Sucker.”

Tim shook his head. “So, you’d have me be a prostitute?”

Hawk chuckled. “My own personal prostitute, maybe.”

“Mm. Do I get paid?”

Hawk snorted and kissed him, again. “There. That’s your payment.”

“…I’ll take it.”

Hawk let himself laugh a little harder and put his arm around him. “I’ll go run the shower.”

“You don’t wanna rest a little, first?”

“We should probably shower, first, in case you fall asleep. We don’t got a lotta time. It’s already 11:20..” Hawk said, looking at the watch on Tim’s wrist.

Tim’s smile faded. “You kicking me out, already?”

Hawk frowned. “You know the rules, Skip. And they’re more important, than ever, now. We can’t risk it.”

“I know. I just… I hate it.”

Hawk brushed Tim’s hair from his face. “I know. So do I.”

Tim took Hawk up on his offer and they cleaned themselves up, before getting back into bed in each other’s arms. Neither fell asleep, though. Too much anxiety, still, Hawk expected. Part of him hoped it would go away, with time, but another part knew it was probably better to be more paranoid, than not.

When Tim did eventually leave, at five after midnight, Hawk didn’t let him go without a hug. Christ, when did he start worrying over his hookups like a mother hen? But, again, that wasn’t what Tim was. Not anymore.

Tim gave Hawk a long kiss on the cheek. “You’d better call me, this time.”

“I will.”

Lover.

Chapter Text

The next month or so was a whirlwind. Perhaps Hawk’s hookups with Tim had become slightly less frequent, since then, but that only served to make them both savour them, even more.

Especially on a night, like tonight when Hawk had to be at a family function at the Smiths and spent the entire night constantly trying to forget the fact that he was, in fact, not family… but, how could he— what with Leonard there to remind him, every ten minutes?

Hawk knew how ridiculous it was, that after all these years, he was still letting Leonard get under his skin, but, perhaps that’s just how it was… when you’ve known someone that long.

His bigger problem was the Senator and Helen finding any and every opportunity to push him and Lucy as close together as possible. Lucy was kind about it, humoured them… Hawk just hoped that was still all it was; just her being polite, the way he was— Well, not exactly the way that he was— but still. God forbid Lucy was actually foolish enough to feel something for him, while the entire time he was flirting with her, Hawk was always thinking about someone else.

It may have been rude, but Hawk was counting down the minutes until Wesley’s birthday party was over. Babysitting Leonard and awkward set-up attempts aside, Hawk truly did enjoy his time with the Smiths, they had always made him forget his own family, or lack-thereof and never failed to make him feel welcome, but he was seeing Tim, tonight and nothing else could possibly matter, apart from than that.

He and Tim were still being careful, of course. Despite trying to find any excuse he could to steal a few extra minutes, Tim was gone by midnight and Hawk ensured that he called before they met up, each time. Not overly romantic, sure, and Tim could complain all he wanted. Hawk didn’t care. Safety was sexy. God forbid he preferred them both to not be in jail.

Though, even Hawk had to admit that there was something gratifying about his secret affair. The risk of it all was arousing in the most thrilling of ways. Hawk’s heart was constantly in his throat, but not in the same way as when he used to feel a fit coming on. No, just pure excitement.

And tonight was no different. Hawk had barely stepped inside his apartment, when he heard the phone ring. Clearly, Tim had left Senator McCarthy’s little party, early. Hawk was sure that Mary wouldn’t mind. Hawk still could not imagine what Skippy had done in order to talk her into going, in the first place, but his boy could be very charming and persuasive when he wanted to be…

Of course, the tactics Tim used on Hawk would be quite different from whatever he had said to Mary, but still.

After telling Tim that he was good to come up, Hawk only had the chance to get his shoes off, before hearing the knock.

“Did you run all the way up here?”

Tim stepped inside and shut the door, behind him without ever taking his eyes off of Hawk. “No… Wow.”

“‘Wow’, what?”

“You, in a tuxedo… Wow.”

Hawk’s face felt hot. He took a step toward Tim, adjusting his collar. “Doin’ it for ya’, is it?”

“I’ll say…” His tone was low, heavy. Fuck, Hawk could not wait to get him in bed… “No! Don’t take it off!” Tim whined in protest, as Hawk slipped his jacket from his shoulders.

Hawk chuckled, entirely flattered. “I’m glad you like, Skippy, but I can hardly stay clothed all night. Not if we want this to go anywhere, that is.”

Tim shrugged and stepped to Hawk, meeting him in the doorway of the foyer. “That’s not necessarily true…”

Tim’s sneaky hand reached between them to try and palm Hawk, through his trousers, but he caught his wrist, just in time. “You are not allowed to make me cum in my tux, Skippy, so don’t even think about it.”

Tim pouted, like a child, but moved instead to undo Hawk’s belt. “Well, then… How’s this, instead?”

“Fuck..” Tim had yanked down both Hawk’s trousers and boxers in one go, immediately dropping to his knees along with them. However, Hawk only had a minute to get used to the exposure of the cool air of his apartment. Not even enough time to mutter out a scold about Tim creasing his own slacks on the floor, before he took Hawk into his mouth. “Jesus, Skippy..” Tim’s hands came up without warning and grabbed Hawk’s ass with a smack, so audible and forceful, Hawk immediately stumbled, but caught himself with a hand on each side of the doorframe, to keep himself on his feet.

Tim was all together merciless with him, sucking him so deep, right away, firmly massaging Hawk’s ass with both hands, which only stood to draw Hawk deeper into his mouth, his cheeks still burning from the initial slap. Hawk had sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, trying to keep from crying out at the mere shock of the onslaught of sensation that Tim was assaulting him with. Fuck, Hawk loved when Skippy got frisky, like this, but this was something else, entirely…

“Oh, yeah… ohhh yeah..” The sound of Hawk’s own whisper was hoarse and syrupy, just this side of pathetic, he knew, but Tim just would not let up, going to town on him, with a noisy hunger, still rubbing over the entirety of his ass. Hawk had grown fully hard in a matter of seconds and knew that he would be cumming, before much longer, but fuck, he had to *try* and hold out… “I—” Hawk shuddered through a particularly cruel swipe of tongue over his slit. “Wow. Y…You really do like me in the tux, don’t ya’?” Tim hummed around him and Hawk got loud. “Oh, yeah!” Hawk cried, all propriety forgotten. “Fuck! Fucking give it to me, Skippy! Give it to me!”

Hawk could practically feel the way Tim was laughing around his cock. For a moment, Hawk worried he might turn soft from the embarrassment, but Tim kept up that relentless pace. Christ, how has he not come up to even breathe yet?!

Feeling that pinnacle build, Hawk let his eyes fall shut, his head thrown back, basking the onslaught Skippy was subjecting him to, bracing himself for what would surely be quite the orgasm, but he had to try to compose himself. His record player was not on yet, he was too near his front door— He could not scream. He. Would. Not. Scream.

Tim’s fingers were very long, very flexible. They spanned across the entirety of Hawk’s buttocks, cupping him with ease. With each vigorous, massaging pass, his fingers wound catch on Hawk’s rim, pulling his cheeks apart. And then, surely by accident, Hawk felt Tim’s middle finger press, firmly against his entrance.

Hawk gasped, loudly, his racing heart stopping dead in his chest. Hawk certainly was no stranger to having Tim touch or grab at his ass— his bit actually did so, quite frequently, for all his attempts at acting ‘proper’. He hardly minded— liked it, in fact, when Tim gave in to his more perverted desires, touching Hawk where and how he wanted, without hesitation or shyness.

This, however, was new.

An accident, surely, Hawk thought, but Tim did it again. And again. And again. —Tim’s finger constantly rubbed over Hawk’s hole, almost teasingly as his tongue did the same to the head of his cock. “Skippy..” Hawk whined, feeling his balls tighten, without warning as Tim’s finger this time pressed just inside him. “FUCK!”

A yell. It had been a yell, not a scream, but it ended up being of little matter, regardless, for when Hawk shot himself down Tim’s throat, his knees buckled and he found himself toppling onto him, smacking him hard into the floor.

“Fuck..” Hawk groaned, as his orgasm subsided in short spurts onto his own thighs. “Sorry..” he wheezed, moving his body off of Tim’s. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” Hawk trailed off, tremors of pleasure still coursing through him, so hard, his words were moans and he could not cease shaking.

Tim did not look hurt, thank goodness, as he sat up, cum smeared across the better part of his face, his glasses knocked askew, but thankfully not broken. And he was laughing— snorting, in fact, looking like he was trying to say all was well, but he could not get the words to form. This time, embarrassment did make Hawk go soft, robbing him of his afterglow, quick enough that he was able to take a breath and pull a handkerchief from the pocket of his pants— which were still pooled around his ankles— and immediately set to the task of wiping Tim’s face, stuttering out a mess of half-finished apologies, before Skippy silenced him with a kiss.

“It’s alright,” he murmured against Hawk’s lips, still half-chuckling. “It’s perfectly alright.” *Oh, yes. Be more pleased with yourself, why don’t you?

Tim bent down, head between Hawk’s legs and began to lick at the cum spattered across his thighs. “Christ, you’re a madman, tonight, aren’t you?”

Tim did not reply, cleaning Hawk’s thighs as best and he could, pulling his bottoms off, all of the way, before getting to his feet and pulling Hawk up with him, reconnecting their lips and banishing whatever the fuck Hawk thought he was going to say, next.

Somewhere between the door of Hawk’s bedroom and his bed, Tim had managed to get out of his own clothes, as well, not bothering to fold them, before pulling them both onto the mattress. Hawk groaned and rolled them over, pinning Tim’s arms just above his head. “Not yet. You know the rules, Skippy.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but got back up and gathered his clothing, folded them neatly and placing them on the chair, before plucking off his glasses and placing them on Hawk’s whiskey cart. “Better?” Hawk nodded. “You’re lucky you’re still handsome, even when you’re all… blurry.”

Now, it was Hawk’s turn to laugh out loud, as Tim joined him, back in bed. Hawk tried to slow down their fevered kisses, but Tim’s blood was still up and he was, obviously very eager, tonight, but fuck, Hawk was still trembling as he tried to recollect himself. Put himself to the task of trying to work Tim open on his fingers, while at the same time trying to push away the memory of Tim’s fingers working at him.

Despite the eagerness, Hawk chose to tease Tim, just a little bit, partly to give himself enough time to get hard, again, but also… it was a punishment.

Tim was very nearly wailing as Hawk toyed with his prostate and his cock, in time, but never allowing him to fall over that edge. Tim clutched at him, wordlessly begging for relief. By the time Hawk did find himself refilled and on fire, Tim was very nearly weeping. Such a desperate boy… My lovely boy…

Hawk presses himself inside of Tim without much more adieu, shoving him against the headboard of the bed, propping himself onto his knees to gain as much leverage as possible. “Hawk, please, please…”

“You don’t have to beg me, Skippy..” Hawk started to move, at once. “I’ve got you…”

With every sharp snap of his hips, Tim was crying out for Hawk. Christ, he really did need to remember to put that record player on every time. He clasped his hand over Tim’s mouth and only resolved to fuck him, harder. Having already came, just moments ago, Hawk knew he wouldn’t last and he was content to rip Tim's orgasm from him, plowing into his sweet hole, while working over his cock.

Tim seemed discontent to just accept Hawk’s ministrations, however, wrapping his arms and legs around Hawk, pressing downward, just above his hips, trying to draw him deeper inside. This was what Hawk truly loved. A long, hard, deep fuck. And so rarely he had ever gotten to enjoy such a thing with anyone, but Skippy. More so, lately anyway, he found he did not want to enjoy such a thing with anyone but Skippy—

A guttural moan tore itself from Hawk’s throat, his body spasming, against his will. He did not cum, again, but it was a very near thing. Then, it happened again. Tim’s thumb ran itself along Hawk’s rim, not once, but twice. Another accident, surely, Hawk tried to convince himself, but then his middle and index finger prodded at Hawk’s hole. 

Hawk gasped against Tim’s neck, where he kissed him. Clearly, at some point Tim had wet them, likely with his own precum— how Hawk did not notice, he could not fathom— but, it was very clearly deliberate, this time. And then, Tim did it, again, applying more pressure, this time. Hawk stopped kissing Tim’s throat, but the movement of his hips was involuntary, his body trying to chase that release, before Tim’s wandering fingers could do what they were clearly aiming to.

Hawk tried to find the words, telling Tim to stop, to wait, to let him go— but he could not speak. Only moan and the more Tim touched him, the more did he ever moan! The way Hawk was clenching himself would not allow Tim entrance, but again… those rather longer fingers were certainly that of the Devil, for Tim could both play at trying to open up Hawk’s hole, while his thumb works down to massage just over his perineum.

Somehow, Tim was managing to shout through Hawk’s hand as their orgasms rushed over them both. Oh, wait. That’s me making that noise…

Tim’s hand that was not currently occupied seemed to have enough remaining good sense to cover Hawk’s mouth, now as they rode out their orgasms, together. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop! Hawk pleaded wordlessly, whining into Tim’s hand, his body feeling as though he were being electrocuted, emptying himself to the point of exhaustion into the younger man, below him.

Hawk collapsed on top of Skippy, boneless and quivering. He could not remember the last time he had cum so hard… Fuck… this is… not good. I should say something. Shut this down before… But, Tim kissed him, again. Kissed Hawk in that same way he always did, the way that turned Hawk’s brain into mush. They should talk, he knew. He really should say something to Tim about… but… kisses.

Maybe, they didn’t need to talk… Maybe, Hawk could just let this one go. Tim was feeling frisky. It was just a one-time thing. There was no harm in that, was there? Especially given what a wonderful orgasm it had earned Hawk. Earned them both, in fact. Yes, he would let it go, for now, anyway.

After a long moment, Hawk managed to roll himself off of Skippy, catch his breath a moment, allow oxygen and blood to return to all of the normal parts of his body. 

Tim hummed with pleasure, rolling himself onto Hawk’s chest as he lit himself a smoke. Hawk allowed his anxieties to fade away, wrapping an arm around Tim, pulling him close as they basked in their shared afterglow.

“How was your night?” Hawk asked him, after a while, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

“Mary’s a good sport,” Tim said, his voice still thick from the pleasure. “Even smiled when she shook the Senator’s hand.” Hawk laughed. Knowing how Mary loathed McCarthy, he was certain she was probably scrubbing her hand raw, back in her own apartment, as they spoke. “I think she might be growing fond of me…”

It took all Hawk had not to snort at the implication of what Tim was implying. Oh, Lord… The poor boy looked so worried… “She doesn’t wanna fuck you, Skippy…” Hawk assures him with a pat to the shoulder. “…if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Hawk swung himself out of bed and pulled on another pair of underwear, part is him still subconsciously needing to put at least some form of barrier or distance between his ass and Tim’s wandering digits.

“She likes women!” My smart, yet so oblivious boy… Hawk thought, as he made himself a drink to cool down. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tim asked him. “We’re friends.”

“Loose lips sink ships,” said Hawk. And it was not his secret to tell, anyway, not that he thought Mary would care, much. “Keep seeing each other. You both need cover.”

“What about you?” Tim asked with a smirk as Hawk climbed back into bed.

“Mm, I have a Bronze Star..” Hawk said, pulling the sheet down to reveal Tim’s stomach and enough for Hawk to plant a few kisses there. Clearly, Tim had wiped himself off, after the act, but Hawk could still taste it… “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m bulletproof.” He trailed more kisses Tim’s abdomen, up his chest. Hawk could never get enough of kissing Tim.

“Do you like it this way?” Tim asked, after Hawk had come to rest himself on his tummy as he stroked over his hair. Hawk froze. “Your life, like this?”

It was technically the same question that Tim had asked him, before— ”Don’t you get lonely?” —but, it was phrased more casually, less direct, as if it were just regular small-talk and not a secret that he was trying to suss out of him, lulling Haw into a false sense of security— it would be impressively manipulative, were it not, in fact, actually fully sincere. And Tim was fully sincere. Hawk knew that. Really, what was the harm in being honest? It was not as if Tim was someone who would use such things against him. Hawk knew that. He did. Hawk has told him about Kenny and Tim had not brought him up, since. Respected that some things were just too painful…

Hawk propped his head up to look at Tim and sighed. “I’ll keep plugging away, for another five years or so. Just… ‘til I get posted overseas..” Tim continued to play with Hawk’s hair, pet his ear, soft, soothing, calming touches. “Fewer eyes on you, over there… When they call me back, I’ll quit. Buy a villa. Some place on the water, with a nice view.” Tim hummed, beneath him, as if he were picturing it. “Where I can eat what I want and fuck who I want, without anyone giving a damn..” Where I can be free. And safe. Hawk looked up at Tim, now, chest tightening against his. “That’s top-secret, by the way…”

It was pointless to say that, really. Who was Tim going to tell? But, he did not laugh at Hawk or argue, act insulted. He smiled, softly, booping Hawk on the end of his nose. “I’ll take it to my grave.” The sincerity melted him and Hawk kissed the point of Tim’s finger and in a moment of mirth, play-bit at it, as Tim pulled it away.

Hawk gave his sweet boy a quick peck on the lips, but Skippy chased his mouth for more, so Hawk gave it to him. A few more quick kisses to the lips, then more down that delightfully hairy chest, before Hawk placed his head back against his stomach, letting his body relax as Tim delivered one final, long kiss to his hair, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

Hawk let his eyes close, as Tom continued to play with his hair. The soft strokes against his scalp wore Hawk down into a puddle of calm. He would die before ever admitting this, but Hawk enjoyed cuddling with Tim, even more than he enjoyed having sex with him. And he loved the sex…

Hawk had never made time for snuggling after his hookups, before. Not often, anyway. With Kenny, of course, and Marcus had always held him after their little trysts, but Tim was the first person Hawk had actually laid with, on a regular basis in such a long time. At first, Hawk thought he was just being nice, holding Skippy after the act, in his room, for an hour, before slinking away, again, but as more time went on, Hawk came to not only enjoy the cuddles… He craved them.

Skippy was soft and warm and he made a very nice pillow. And he would always cradle Hawk so close, rub his back, play with his hair, kiss him until his face turned red. His Skippy… his boy… always so sweet… And right after sex, it all felt even sweeter. Mary had accused Hawk, a few days ago, when she and Tim planned their little outing, of becoming sentimental. It was very much her usual brand of teasing, but without the roll of her eyes behind it. Lately, she had been less critical of Hawk’s relationship with Tim, but occasionally she would catch him reading Look Homeward, Angel in his office and say; “Careful, Fuller, or you’ll grow too fond.”

Too late, Hawk wouldn’t reply. Truth was, he well was past ‘fond’, by this point and it was getting harder and harder to hide it. He was falling for Tim, more and more with every day that passed. Just thinking about him brought an absolutely stupid grin to his face and put butterflies in his stomach.

I’m worse than a twelve-year-old girl, Hawk always thought to himself. Stupid, foolish and fond… Hawk knew how dangerous this was; getting this attached to Skippy. He knew what they had was not going to last forever. And yet, when he imagined himself in his seaside little villa, eating grapes, this time, it wasn’t a group of some faceless, naked, young men he was surrounded by.

Just Tim. Only Tim. Naked, yes, laying next to him in a cabana and allowing Hawk to feed him those grapes in the aftermath of their latest romp, smell of salty waves and saltier cum in the air and for the first time in his life, Hawk felt perfectly happy.

Hawk opened his eyes to look at Tim, again, asleep at his side, now, sunlight sparkling across muscles and his heart swelled. God, you are so fucking beautiful… Sunlight?!

The sound of a car horn stole the air from Hawk’s lungs. “Oh, Christ. Skippy!” It was morning. “Skippy, wake up!” Hawk shook his shoulder. “Hey, we fell asleep.” Tim’s eyes snapped open. “You need to get going.” Hawk picked up his watch. Fuck, he had work in an hour. “Goddamn it!”

Hawk threw on his robe as Tim scrambled to get dressed. In less than two minutes, they were at his front door, Hawk with Tim’s hat and coat in hand while he still fumbled with his belt, hands shaking.

“Hey, hey..” Hawk whispered, softly. “Take a breath.”

“When am I gonna see you again?”

“I’m gonna look outside. Make sure it’s clear.”

Take a breath.. Fuck, Hawk should have been saying that to himself. He managed to get Tim out the door, but his heart stopped, seeing his glasses still on the whiskey cart.

Hawk rushed for the door. The last thing he needed was for Tim to fall down the stairs in his fucking apartment building, because he couldn’t fucking see! Clearly, Tim has had the same idea, because there he was, back at the door, as soon as Hawk reopened it.

Tim’s smile stopped Hawk’s heart for a whole different reason. Tim went to take his glasses, but as their hands brushed, Hawk dropped them, a nervous giggle falling from his mouth as Tim rushed to pick them up at his feet, next to the morning paper.

Again, I am a pre-teen girl…

Tim jumps back to his feet at the sound of a door opening. It was Mr. Abbcott and his stupid, little dog. Thinking faster than his mind could keep up, Hawk picked up his paper and bid Tim an indifferent nod of farewell, smiling, innocently at his neighbour. “New paper-boy.”

Mr. Abbcott raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and went inside with Snapper. 

Fuck my life. That was way too fucking close.

Hawk’s heart did not stop pounding, the entire rest of the morning. He could not even manage to get a full cup of coffee into him before throwing it back up, again. Going to work on an empty stomach, yet again certainly was not going to help his nerves, but Hawk was happy to go to work.

It might have been evil, but the impending executions of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were a welcome distraction for Hawk. That is, until Mr. McLeod, the department’s head of Security spoke up.

“Yes, our country is under threat from Soviet spies and those who support them,” said Mr. McLeod. “But, there’s another risk to national security; the sheer volume of deviants in our midst. The M Unit has dismissed or forced the resignation of twice as many federal employees for homosexuality as our counterparts have for communist leanings. Quite simply, we are overrun…”

Hawk put on a smile, clapping along with the rest of the room as McLeod explained the nature of his departments’ little summons that it was starting up, but he could already hear him over the way his blood was pounding in his ears.

Miss Johnson, of course, could not hide her worry as they walked down the hallway, after the meeting, talking far too loudly for such an environment. As if Hawk needed another reason for bile to rise up into his throat. He seized her by the arm. “When’s your next date with Tim?”

But, Mary did not seem at all in the mood, shaking him off and walking away, without another word. How could she not understand? They were under attack, all of them. Mary needed to be seen with Tim as much as possible, right now, for both their sakes.

As for Hawk, he knew he shouldn’t see Tim. At least for a while. This morning had been too close and it was too dangerous. All the worse, all Hawk wanted right now, was see him. Booze, nicotine— lately, Skippy was the only thing that calmed him down.

When Hawk got back to his office, he didn’t even bother to acknowledge Mary or Miss Addison, as he went inside. He needed to breathe. He needed to think. He needed a plan and fast. His first thought was to call up Lucy, as if she wanted to have dinner at a nice, popular, public restaurant in the city, take her out for ice cream, afterwards, let them be seen together.

Would that be enough? Despite a healthy abundance of discretion, Hawk had never worried too much about himself. Well, he did, but certainly not as much as your average homosexual. Bulletproof. Hawk certainly did not feel very bulletproof, right now. No. He needed a back up plan, now and there was only one person he could call for that.

It made Hawk ashamed that his mother was so surprised to get his lunch invitation. It’s true, Hawk didn’t make as much of an effort to see her when she was in town, as he probably should and he had not called her in quite a while, but that was only because she was the one person on Earth that he could never lie to and he did not want to have to try when she inevitably asked about his personal life.

Hawk knew he couldn’t tell her about Tim, but he also would not lie to her about him.

Unfortunately, as usual, Estelle saw right through her son. Also unfortunately, Uncle Howard decided that now was the perfect time to get caught by the IRS, landing Hawk with only one option left to make his European escape plan dream a reality. Only that option… was not an option for Hawk, at all; the promise of an heir to carry on the family name… and an apology to his father.

Promising to marry and have children, Hawk could fake. He knew he could fake that until the cows came home, but an apology? That was asking too much.

So, Hawk went out that night, rather than calling up Tim, like he normally would. They had to keep their distance from each other, for a while. They had to. At least until Hawk could figure out what to do. Or, at least until he could get this constant fucking anxiety to subside— thus, he wound up back at the Cozy Corner.

Hawk was happy to find Marcus sitting at one of the tables. If anyone was going to be able to lift his spirits, right now, it would be him, but when Hawk sat down, he paused; Marcus looked more melancholy than he did. “You’re prettier when you smile…”

“Fuck you.”

Hawk shrugged. “Guess we could go another round…” He was only half-kidding. Marcus would *certainly* be one way to take his mind off of Tim. “We’d have the same old argument; “I don’t bottom-””

“-“I don’t bottom”,” Marcus echoed along with him, shaking his head. “Lost the Subcommittee beat. Took a shot at Schine and Cohn.”

“That was stupid,” Hawk replied, a little too bluntly, but he was surprised. Marcus knew better.

“Yeah,” Marcus agreed. “I just couldn’t take them goin’ at Langston like they did. All these goddamn white men!”

“Should I be taking this personally?”

“Maybe,” Marcus scoffed. “There’s no escaping you people… Not even in here.”

“So, now you’re mad the place has integrated?”

“Mm-mm. Can’t call it that if the door only opens one way.”

Hawk sighed, beginning to fiddle with his pack of cigarettes. “At least Cohn only likes ‘em big, dumb and White.” *Really Hawk?* That’s the most comforting thing you could think of to say, right now?

“So, is Schine..?”

“I don’t think so,” said Hawk. “but, I’m sure the little cocksucker’s working on it.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Silver-spoon who wants to be a hero..” Hawk offered Marcus a smoke, but he held up his hand in decline. “Which is hard to do when you’re 4F.”

“He looks fit to me… Might look into that..”

Hawk was about to warn Marcus against poking the bear, any further, not that it would do much good. Marcus hardly ever listened to him and what he had to say, now, would almost certainly fall on deaf ears, given that the only thing Marcus seemed able to focus on was his waiter-Queen crush, only averting his eyes when he caught Hawk smirking. “Variety is the spice o’ life…”

Marcus gave him a look. “You know, Tim is a good guy..”

“I know..”

“That why you’re here?”

Hawk chewed at the inside of his cheek, tapping his smoke a little too hard against his ashtray, causing it to crumble in half. “With Tim… it’s not easy. This… is.”

“Know what the difference is, between you and me— aside from the obvious? Sometime, somewhere… I’d like more than this.”

Hawk tipped Marcus his glass and downed the rest of it, before lighting another smoke, trying to cover the way he had bristled at his words, but the narrowing of his eyes told Hawk that he had caught it, anyway. Annoyance assaulted his person and Hawk tried to look anywhere, but at his friend. Truthfully, that had been the last thing Hawk had ever expected to come out of Marcus’ mouth, but he had a right to change his mind, didn’t he?

Didn’t everyone?

“And you think that I wouldn’t..?” Hawk said, finally, voice so soft, he wouldn’t be surprised if Marcus hadn’t heard him. “Want more than this?”

Marcus raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Well, if you want it, Hawk, then go ahead, take it. You’ve already got the man..”

Hawk shook his head. “It’s not that simple and you know it.”

“I’m not suggesting that you get down on one knee in the middle of the street in Foggy Bottom, Hawk, but if you wanna be with Tim, go and be with him. ‘the Hell you wastin’ your time, ‘round here for?”

“W…” Hawk stammered, wishing Frankie would come back with their drinks, already. “He slept over at my place, the other night. Accidentally. I didn’t mean t… We just fell asleep. I was sneaking him outta my apartment in the morning and my neighbour walks by-“

“So, you panicked and now you’re too scared to see him again.”

“It was too close. Way too close…”

“So, what?” Marcus asked, snatching the pack of smokes from Hawk, now to take one. “You gonna punish him for life, now, because he made one slip-up?”

“What? No. No, I’m not  blaming him. We both should have been more careful.”

“And you think Tim doesn’t know that? He’s not stupid, Hawk.” Marcus almost sounded offended.

“I never said that he was. I’m just saying that what he and I are doing is risky and it only works if we’re careful-“

Marcus rolled his eyes. “You’re always careful.”

“No. Not lately, I haven’t been, anyway.” Hawk shook his head. “I was never supposed to like him this much, Marcus. He’s becoming inconvenient.” 

Marcus frowned at him. “That’s a tad harsh, don’t you think?”

“No. ‘Harsh’ would be never seeing or speaking to him, again, which is what I probably should do. Oh, finally.”

At last, Frankie had returned with their drinks. He handed Marcus his with a sly wink, but before he could even move for Hawk’s, Marcus’ wrist came up in a jerk, toppling the tray and dousing Hawk in his Glen Mhor, the glass shattering on the floor.

“The fuck?!”

“I am so sorry, Sir-“ Frankie immediately dropped to pick up the pieces, despite his dress pooling into the puddle of liquor on the floor.

“No-” Hawk said, immediately, snatching up a napkin and trying to wipe the stain outta his shirt. “-you are fine.” He turned back to Marcus, who was standing, now, too, having downed his own drink in one go. “What the fuck is your problem, all of the sudden?”

“You’re too chicken-shit to be real about how you feel about Tim? Fine. But, I’ve told you before, don’t toy with the kid. Pick a lane and stick to it.” Marcus tossed a fifty-dollar bill on the table and winked at Frankie. “Keep the change, hot stuff.”

Hawk just stared, watching Marcus walk out of the club, shirt and crotch soaked, trying to figure out when and where exactly the argument’s had started, before he realized that the waiter was trying to help him blot his shirt. “It’s all good.”

Frankie shook his head. “I got some club soda in the back. It’ll take that right out.”

“It’s really… fine. Knowing me, I probably deserved it…”

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

Hawk caught the quizzical, curious look in the younger man’s eyes and could not help, but snort. “Nah. Not at all. He’s all yours. And for what it’s worth, he’s not normally like that.”

“That’s a shame. I like ‘em angry…”

Well, alrighty, then… Marcus certainly had his work cut out for him, that was for sure.

Deep down, Hawk knew that Marcus wasn’t wrong, per se. He could imagine the look on Tim’s face to see him, here, pursuing other men—No. Stop. You’re being ridiculous, now. Hawk had the right to fuck whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Fuck Marcus. And fuck Tim, too. NO! Not ‘fuck Tim’ you jackass. He didn’t do anything. Just because you feel guilty— STOP!

“On second thought, kid, bring the club soda.”

Hawk ended up fucking not one, but two guys in the bathroom. It was nice, they were hot and eager to give him attention after witnessing his little display with Marcus, but the last thing Hawk wanted, right now, was sympathy.

You can fuck whoever you want. You made Tim no promises. What? It was true. Tim could not very well begrudge Hawk simply being a man with needs. Hawk would certainly not judge Tim for going out and fucking someone else, except for the fact that the very idea made his skin crawl…

Oh, fuck my life…

Now, normally a night full of sex would make Hawk sleep, like a baby, but it was well after midnight and still, all he could do was toss and turn. He had gotten up about an hour ago, made himself another drink, hoping that would help matters, but apparently not. Something was eating at him, making his insides squirm.

The sex had been lovely. One of the men younger then Hawk, the other considerably older— both stunning, in their own right, but for the life of him, Hawk couldn’t remember which of them had had their lips around his cock, when he came down the man’s throat, whispering; “Skippy..” over and over, like a prayer.

A prayer… Wait…

Hawk glanced over at the side of the bed where Tim would normally lay, and sure enough, he could see something shiny on the end-table. Rolling over, Hawk reached to grab it; Tim’s cross. He must have left it, the other night. Surely, he knew it was missing, by now… Why had he not come back for it?

Hawk hadn’t called him. And Tim didn’t just show up, unannounced, anymore. That was a rule. He could always have called Hawk… Maybe, he *had* called, but Hawk was out, or… Maybe, he thought Hawk didn’t wanna hear from him after… Oh, fuck you, Marcus…

Hawk brought the crucifix to his lips, the metal cold as ice, sticking to his skin. …What are you even doing, right now? Well, apparently making a phone call, because before Hawk knew it, he was at his desk, nearly naked, listening to the phone ring after he had dialled the number for Tim’s building.

It rang for a long while with no answer— because, it was actually 3:00 in the fucking morning. Hawk slammed the receiver down. Not only would Tim be long asleep, his landlady would have a fit and certainly be suspicious that Tim was getting phone calls from strange men at this time of night… It wasn’t worth the risk.

The risk. That was the whole point, was it not? “Don’t toy with him, if you don’t mean it,” Marcus had told him that a hundred times, by now. It was actually a little touching, how much Marcus seemed to care about Tim after only having met him a handful of times and yet… Hawk didn’t think that was what he was doing. Toying. He had been inconsistent, sure, and more than just a little. He had told him that he wasn’t good at this… Hawk had tried to be as honest with him as possible… which, of course, was not very honest at all.

With the crucifix still clutched in one hand, Hawk slid his other into his underwear. He had to take his mind off of things… So, *of course* he chose to do that by engaging in the one activity that was sure to make him think only about Tim… his pretty eyes… the feel of his lips on Hawk’s ear… the sound of his voice when he would cry out Hawk’s name… the way he clenched around Hawk when he— “Tim..!” Hawk came into his hand…

…and what a disappointing orgasm it was.

This was not enough. None of it was. Hawk needed the real thing. He needed Tim. He needed to do whatever it took to make this work.

Chapter Text

The next day, Hawk was both in a rush to get through work, but also secretly hoped it would never end, for when it was over, he didn’t go home. Instead, he got in the car and drove straight to Pennsylvania. 

It was strange. He’d remembered the house being bigger… In the time it had taken Hawk to get to the door, he had removed and put back on his jacket about nine times, but only remembered to take off his sunglasses, after actually going inside… His hands were twitching… he could feel his heart in his throat.

The beaming sight of his mother had almost been enough to put him at ease. Almost. Except that Hawk’s mother had failed to inform him that she had invited the entire Hall-Fuller clan over for lunch. God, this was hard enough, but Cousin Frances was firing off a million questions within seconds and instantly, all Hawk felt was regret.

Fuck, why was he doing this? Home less than two minutes and he already wanted to crawl into a hole and die…

Hawk excused himself from the room, as quickly as possible with the excuse of wanting to rest his head after the long drive, but the second he got upstairs, he nearly collapsed against the door. Was it possible for one’s heart to beat so hard, you could taste your own iron?

Calm down. You can do this. Calm down…

Hawk took a deep breath and let himself wander around the room. What exactly had Harriet tidied, he wondered? It all looked exactly the same as the way he had left… not a thing out of place. Hawk was surprised his father hadn’t made it into a second office. He probably had his mother to thank for that, but then again, maybe it would have been better to just have it all be gone? Instead of having to stand there, fourteen years later, just as he did on the worst day of his life, petrified, frozen, watching his father beat the living Hell out of Kenny…

I wonder…

Hawk opened up the closet and there it was; his old tennis trophy. Hawk took it out into the light, licking his thumb to clean the dust and grime off of the inscription.

Mens Doubles

Hawkins Fuller

Kenneth Willard

1936

They had been best friends for almost an entire school-year, by that point, thick as thieves, inseparable. Hawk remembered that warm smile, those electric-green eyes, those freckles… Hawk remembered how he used to love to trace them, whenever he and Kenny got the opportunity to lie naked, together, back when Hawk was still so young and shy.

He had been thinking about ending his friendship with Kenny, right before that championship game… After months and months of hiding his crush, Hawk could no longer contain himself around Kenny. Kenny, who had always been so constantly sweet… Still, Hawk has convinced himself that he was just being friendly… How stupid he felt when Kenny kissed him, for the first time, under the bleachers, after they had won.

Oh, Kenny…

It was not until he heard his mother’s voice that Hawk realized a single tear has slipped from his eye, landing on the wooden base of the trophy, the words; “You’re father’s awake,” ripping him in half, anew.

Hawk tried to tell himself that Kenny would want him to be happy, to move on, as he made that fateful match across the hall to his parents’ bedroom. Again; jacket on, jacket off. On, Hawk eventually decided. Made him look more professional, respectable. He fiddled with his cuffs, his hair. He had to be perfect. It was his only chance.

Harriet exited the room and Hawk nearly jumped out of his skin, but she had not even offered him a word. Hell, after all these years she probably didn’t even recognize him. Or didn’t care to, Hawk didn’t know.

Now or never…

Hawk had not been sure what he had been expecting. His mother had aged over the last decade and a half, but Hawk had seen her at least more than a few times each year. He had expected his father to look drastically different, by contrast, but no; Russell Fuller looked exactly the same. Well, almost exactly, at least. Frailer, perhaps, greyer, certainly less terrifying and imposing— It seemed, at last, he truly was dying. Hawk could only hope…

“I knew it would bring you back… me, dying…” His voice was entirely different. Raspy, cracking— lung cancer—courtesy of a lifetime of yelling and smoking. Hawk knew he was surely headed for the same fate, one day, if hopefully not the same place. Hawk didn’t believe in Hell, really, but if it did exist, Russell Fuller was most definitely going there when he bit the bullet.

But, that would have to wait. For now, Hawk had a job to do. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to come home for some time.”

“If that’s true, at all, it’s only because of your mother. That was my mistake… letting her make you a Mama’s Boy...” Russell trailed off in a hacking fit. Because, God forbid a parent shows love toward their only child… His father disparaging his mother was one thing Hawk could never stand and he briefly considered strangling the man with the coed of his oxygen mask, but… no. Not yet, anyway. Get him to change the will, and then commit patricide.

“Are you in much pain?” Hawk forced out, but the concern he had tried to feign got lost, somewhere along the way.

“You were good at a lot, son, but you were never good at concealing yourself.” God, if only you knew… Wait, was that almost a compliment? “Has it changed? Have you?”

Hawk had to grit his teeth to keep his face perfectly still. “I’d say so..”

“Then, you’ll be getting married and having children.”

“That would be the expectation.” *Yes. Why can’t you just fucking. Say. Yes? You lie for a living. Why can you not fucking manage it, properly, now, when it actually matters?

“Then, all that remains is your apology.”

“And I’m to apologize… for what, precisely? I’d just… I’d like to get this right.” Get it right, so I can fucking leave. So I can finally be free of you and of all of you and never have to think about you, again, except when I’m counting your money and dancing on the day of your death with my boy, before I fuck him absolutely stupid for the rest of our lives…

“For having no shame…” his father said. “For making me endure rumours about my homosexual son. For me, walking in… and having to see you on your knees to that boy, Kenny.” His father spat out Kenny’s name, like it was the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted. The force of the word caused him to wheeze and sputter, he reached for the glass of water at his bedside, his fingers only barely able to brush the edge of the glass. 

Hawk stared for a moment, at this weak, feeble, old man and no. This man didn’t look anything like Russell Fuller. Russell Fuller was powerful, commanding— a shove and a look were all that Russell Fuller needed to render Hawk a scared, little boy, unable to do anything, but quiver in the face of him hurting someone he cared for— whether it be Kenny or his mother… or the elderly stay dog that Hawk had brought him when he was dead, that his father promptly took out back and shot, dead. Russell Fuller; Monster. Hawkins Fuller; Coward. But, no. This man wasn’t Russell Fuller, anymore. This man was a shell. He had all of Hawk’s father’s cruelty, but nothing to back it up with and for the first time, Hawk was unafraid of him.

Hawk handed his father the glass, watching as the dying old man quenched his thirst and steadied his breathing. “I’m sorry…” You did it. Now, shut up. Let that be it. Let that be it and then, you can go have everything you’ve never let yourself want. But, with every blink of his eyes, Hawk saw Kenny and something inside of him snapped. “… that you’re dying… that not a single fucking soul gives a shit..” Rage and spite; that was all that was left of Hawk in this moment. “And that you didn’t knock, first.”

To say that Russell Fuller looked shocked, would be the understatement of the millennium. Hawk ran a hand over his hair, smug and gave his father a final nod of farewell. “You’re not getting my money!” he snarled. “You hear me? Not a goddamn dime!” Hawk could still hear him, already halfway down the stairs. “Not a goddamn dime, you revolting, cock-sucking, fucking faggot! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Good luck.

Hawk let the door slam behind him, rest of his family be damned. He got to his and immediately ripped off that fucking jacket. His entire body felt like it was on fire— like the walls of that fucking house had been suffocating him, all over again.

I’m sorry, Skippy… I tried. I just couldn’t… do it.

Hawk was leaning against the hood, trying to smoke away his nerves, when his mother came out, her face full of exasperation, but no judgement, just as always. “I assume this means you’re not staying for dinner?”

Hawk shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mother..”

She scoffed. “An apology! You see how easy that was?”

Hawk chuckled, silently and shook his head, again. “I should have convinced you to leave him.”

“You couldn’t have. I was a grown woman, I knew what I was doing. This is what I wanted—” she gestured to the vastness around them. “—the marriage was the way for me to have it. May I have one of those?” Hawk handed her the smoke and lit it for her. “I dare not smoke in front of your father..” Estelle Fuller for Best Actress, everybody. Hawk’s ultimate inspiration… If only he had been able to live up…

“So, that’s why you stayed?”

“That, and the same reason that you never do. It’s easier.”

Right. Easy. Hawk had always taken the easy way out. Always. But, God, he did want to, anymore… “There is someone, now…”

His mother regarded him for a long moment. Hawk knew she understood. She had always understood him. “I’m glad.” Hawk could tell she wanted to inquire, further, know more, but she forced her mouth closed. Honestly, Hawk wanted to say more, too. He wanted to be able to gush, to tell her everything about Tim… Maybe, some day…

Instead, Hawk kissed her on the head and let that be that. Then, he got in the car and drove. Again, Hawk didn’t go back to his apartment. He couldn’t. The second he had pulled out of the driveway, he was pounding his fists on the steering wheel until his hands ached almost as much as it ached for him to breathe. Hawk was unsure how he didn’t get arrested, or into an accident— he was speeding, so much, but he had to get home. He needed to see him. He needed him.

Apparently not abandoning his stupidity, any time soon, Hawk didn’t care that he left his car out front— he only was thankful that the lock on the front door was still busted. He ran all the way up the stairs and knocked on the door. It was quite late, but Hawk was desperate. Desperation drowned out reason, reason that told Hawk he shouldn’t be banging on Tim’s door, in the middle of the night, surely waking at least a few of the other tenants, but he needed him, now…

At last, Tim opened the door. “What are you-?”

“Your lock’s still broken, downstairs.” Hawk had Tim against the wall, before he had even shut the door. Stupid. Reckless— Hawk didn’t care. Part of him wanted to tell Tim everything, weep into his shoulder, like a little kid, let Tim hold him and tell him that everything was gonna be okay, but when Hawk took his boy’s beautiful face in his hands, he could only say one thing; “I’m home, now…”

Hawk kissed the confusion off of Tim’s face. Kissed him, like he would die, without it, because he would. Any protest that might have remained in Tim’s tired body melted away in an instant as he wrapped his arms around Hawk and pulled him towards the bed.

Hawk didn’t bother to worry about holding his clothes, right now, only able focus on getting his hands on Tim’s body, tearing away any remaining barrier between them— clothes, glasses— Hawk kissed every inch of Tim’s face in a flurry, until Tim put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him back. “What?” Hawk felt something tug against his neck and he looked down to see him was holding the end of his cross necklace, utterly bewildered. “Oh! Sorry. You-You left it at my place. I just— I didn’t wanna lose it or drop it…”

“It-It’s fine..” Tim said, slowly, unclamping it from around Hawk’s neck and hanging it over his top left bedpost. “Are you alright?”

Tim’s thumb stroked over Hawk’s cheek, as he looked him over like a concerned mother hen. No. Nothing is okay. Nothing probably ever will be, again. “Nothing..” Hawk blurted out, like a moron. “I mean, I’m fine… little too much to drink…” he lied. Hell, he should be drunk, right now… “I’m sorry…” See? You can apologize, sincerely.

Tim looked like he wanted to question Hawk, further, definitely not satisfied with that answer, but thankfully his boy took pity and just kissed him, again. Hawk moaned, loudly and unrestrained as Tim took Hawk’s cock in hand. Hawk gave in and let go eyes roll back, a moment, only allowing them to focus, again when Tim had begun to work a few spit-slicked fingers into himself.

“Let me..” It was almost a plea, but Tim shook his head. He slowed his hand down, keeping his strokes on Hawk’s cock featherlight, just a tease. Hawk tried to touch his cock, the same, but Tim pushed his hand away, again. Hawk tried to kiss his nipple, but Tim pressed his forehead to Hawk’s, pushing him back, but not allowing him to steal any more kisses. “Skippy, you need to let me touch you..”

Tim said nothing, but wrapped his legs around Hawk’s waist, using them and his hand to lower Hawk’s hips, guide his cock toward Tim’s open hole— hot and velvety, as it was… Hawk nearly wailed. Hawk shut his eyes, so he did not have to see Tim’s look of surprise, but clearly he got over it, quickly as he began to rock his hips, back and forth.

Hawk pinned Tim’s hips and set the pace. Slow. Agonizingly so. This was not the first time Hawk has fucked Tim, gently, but he knew this had to be almost tormenting for them both. Tim had sunk his teeth into that fat bottom lip, whimpering in a chant with every drag of Hawk’s cock against his prostate. Hawk did not try to muffle himself, however and when Tim’s hand moved to flick on his radio, Hawk pinned it over his head, doing the same to the other when Tim snuck it down to dare try and touch his cock.

A slave to the torture, all Skippy could do was endure and keep his legs wrapped around Hawk, like his life depended on it, trying again and again to force him to increase the speed or pressure of his thrusts, even just a little bit, but Hawk refused to give in. Giving in meant that it would be over too soon, that they would have to talk— Skippy’s sense would come back to him and he would have questions Hawk couldn’t answer, but also didn’t have energy left to lie about. He would have to face how badly he had just fucked up… No, he would not let this end, yet.

So, Hawk kept up that torturous pace. Kept it slow and light, barely enough to keep them both hard and near the edge of oblivion, but oh, it was enough. Nearly a would go by. It was more painful, than pleasurable, by then— for Hawk, at least. He was so hard, his cock was purple where it grazed Skippy’s insides, leaking like mad. It hurt. Punishment, more than pleasure…

For Tim, it was a different kind of punishment. Somewhere, along the way, Tim seemed to accept that he could not coax Hawk into moving faster and just had to lie there and suffer, whimpering and whining in plea, tears streaming down his face. God, he had never looked more beautiful…

“Please, Hawk!” Tim wailed, sealing his lips over the sensitive curve of his ear. “Please… Please, let me cum. I-I-I can’t take it, anym— Please..!” He was sobbing, now. Truthfully, Tim could have relieved himself at any time. Hawk had let go of his wrists, ages ago, instead to play with his nipples, turning them red and puffy— but Tim just clung to him, eagerly waiting for Hawk to provide mercy. Such a good boy… “Please, let me..” Tim warbled into Hawk’s ear. “Please, let me cum! Please, let me cum— I’ll do anything! Anything!”

Hawk groaned, loudly— far too loudly, but Tim’s words made him nearly fall over the edge, alone and he had to bite his tongue so hard, he tasted blood to stop himself.

“Please… let me… make me cum, Hawk!”

Hawk growled and grabbed hold on Tim’s hips again, the last shred of his resolve finally snapping as he began to snap his own up into him, fucking hard into the poor boy’s over-sensitive prostate. The quick change in tempo had Tim crying, again, nails dug into Hawk’s back while he pounded him with everything he had.

“Please! Let me cum, let me cum, let me cum, let me c— Let me— nngh!!” Tim’s orgasm seemed to hit him like a fucking bullet, his cock convulsing, spattering Hawk’s stomach and chest. “*Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you— ohh! Nghh! Ahh—!” Tim’s mouth dropped low in silent scream as Hawk chased his own release, but after holding back for so long, he found himself falling farther away from it, now, instead of closer.

Oh, no. No, no, no… Hawk was beginning to lose his erection, but he had not cum. The trials of this wretched day were closing in around him, stealing away whatever remained of his joy. He thrusted harder, but he knew Skippy would not be able to take this much long—

Tim’s fingers— obviously slick with his own cum— prodded against Hawk’s rim, again, thumb suddenly swiping over his perineum, again and again and aga— “St—” Hawk’s orgasm ripped through him. “Stop! Stop. Stop. Don’t—” Tim had torn his hand away, but Hawk’s hips had a mind of their own, still canting into him as he rode out his vile pleasure, until it was too much for either of them to bear, any longer.

Hawk collapsed on top of Tim with a whine, his voice hoarse, his throat burning, insides twisting with a mix of desire and… disgust. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“What?”

“You know…” Hawk refused to look at him, head rested on Tim’s stomach. “Don’t… touch me, there.”

Hawk felt Tim tense up. “You mean..? I’m sorry. I-I thought that you liked it? You-You seemed like you… Oh, I am so sorry…”

“It’s fine.”

“Hawk..” Tim grabbed his head and forced him to look up. Hawk’s vision was spotty, but even he could tell how guilt-ridden Tim looked and it broke his heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I should have asked, before I… That’s why you’ve been… I’m so sorry…”

“You don’t have to say sorry,” Hawk replied, breathlessly, trying to get his body to stop shaking. “You… You didn’t do anything wrong. Or… bad. It-It’s just not something I do…”

“Oh. Why?”

Hawk blinked at him. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

“I mean, not to question your preferences, but you seemed like you enjoyed it. But, obviously I misread-“

“No,” Hawk said, too quickly. “No, it’s… fine. It was fine. Just… I don’t do that… at all… ever.” I don’t bottom.

Tim nodded. “I understand..” Possibly the least convincing lie Hawk had ever heard. “You don’t have to explain— It won’t ever happen, again…”Hawk nodded and pulled himself off of Skippy and off of the bed. “Please, don’t go…”

Hawk felt his heart crack, again, frowned at Tim’s big, apologetic, begging eyes. “I’m just getting something to clean us up with,” he assured him. “I’ll be right back.”

Hawk wet and cloth in the bathroom and immediately hurried back to bed, knowing it would be unwise to leave Tim alone any longer than necessary, after a romp as particularly intense as that. Wordlessly, Hawk wiped the cum off of them both, before tossing the rag aside and pulling Tim so far into his own body, Hawk felt— wished that they would melt into one.

I’m not going anywhere, Skippy. Don’t you worry… I’ll never leave again.

Another lie.

Slipped out around 1:00 A.M. Didn’t wanna wake you. I’ll call you.

xo

Hawk had added that last part, before he could think better of it and dropped the note pad on the bed, slipping into the night with one last look at Skippy’s sleeping frame.

Hawk really had meant it. That he would call… Unfortunately, he would not get the chance.

Hawk would not even make it in the door, after work the next day, before Tim appeared, out of nowhere, behind him, at his front door, scaring the absolute daylights out of him in the process.

“What the Hell’s goin’ on?”

“Mary has a girlfriend.”

“So..?”

“Caroline, she works for the State Department. They live together.” Hawk’s blood ran cold. “They really love each other, Hawk. You should see the way that they-“

“Get to the point.”

“She’s being investigated..” Hawk’s heart dropped all the way down into the bottom of his stomach. “Some fella she works with reported her outta malice.”

Hawk shook his head. And the rest of him was shaking, again, as well. “It doesn’t matter how she got their attention. She did.” Hawk immediately moved to his liquor cabinet. “She’s screwed. They’re both screwed..”

“You sound angry at them.”

“What they did was dangerous. You understand that?” Hawk spat. “For Christ’s sake, living with someone…” How could Mary be that stupid? She was a smart woman, a practical woman. Was she insane? Of course, they got reported! Now, she and her girl were fucked and so was everyone they… Oh, no. Please, no, Skippy… “How do you know they live together?”

“They asked me over. When you were avoiding me.”

Oh, God… Skippy could have knocked him over with a feather. Hawk rushed to his desk, ignoring Skippy’s words and whipping out a piece of paper and a pen, forcing him to sit down. “Write this down. Word for word.” His words were gasped and Hawk ripped off his suit jacket. His face was getting hot. He couldn’t breathe. 

“‘Dear Mary,’ —Just write! You have to.” Hawk snapped. “‘I fell for you the first moment I laid eyes on you… Right away, I was taken by your beauty… but, I was won over by your mind.’” The only way this would work was if the Feds believed it… which is why it was probably good that every word Hawk spoke was, for once, the truth. “‘To touch you, t… to feel your body against mine brought me more happiness than you could ever know. I know you love me…’” Hawk’s voice cracked, ever so slightly, but he swallowed it down. “‘..and my feelings for you are deep…’” Deeper than you know… “‘..but, I’ve always known that we have no real future, together…’” And I was a fucking idiot for ever thinking, otherwise.

Hawk blinked. He blinked so hard, it made him dizzy. He blinked so hard, it hurt. Hawk hadn’t even known that was possible to do… But, he had to do it. Had to force away the tears that were stinging his eyes. Anger and panic rushed through his veins, seizing up his fists as Tim stopped writing, placing the pen back on the desk, looking up at Hawk, the picture of pure dread. “I can’t do this…”

“You broke the rule, Skippy. You went there, you palled around with a bunch of Queers and I’m just now hearing about it!” Hawk slammed his hand down the desk, making Tim jump. “You keep writing!” Hawk was yelling, now, not that he needed to… Tim looked afraid enough of his words, alone. “‘You’re not being Catholic is a problem for me and for my family. I don’t mean to hurt you..’” He really didn’t mean to hurt him. Hawk had torn himself away from the desk, not trusting himself without some distance. He wasn’t trying to scare Skippy and Hawk would never lay a hand on him, but… He felt like someone else, right now. “‘but, I think it’s better for both of us to part ways…’” It really would be… If only I could… “You slip that under Mary’s door and refuse contact with either one.”

“They are my friends.”

“They are liabilities.” Hawk made his way back to the liquor cabinet and poured himself another drink. At this rate, he would likely need about thirty, just to calm down, but he had to start somewhere. “If it’s any consolation, it throws the heat off you both. Mary can use the letter to clear herself… pin it all on Caroline.”

Hawk did not need to look up to know that Tim was staring at him in horror. “She loves her. She would never do that.”

“Watch her.”

Hawk took another drink and put on his record player. He needed to calm down. He needed to calm down.

“I don’t understand you. I don’t understand us!”

Tim was headed for the door, letter in hand. “Hey, c-come on. You don’t have to go…” Please, don’t go. “As long as we’re careful-“

“You mean, you want me to… what? Stay for an hour, for sex?” Tim may as well have put a knife in Hawk’s heart. “Senator Smith is on McCarthy’s Enemies List. They’re gonna try and find something on him.” Hawk’s heart gave a lurch, but he didn’t get time to react. “And that’s the last dirty thing I’m ever gonna do for you.”

The sound of the door slam broke something in Hawk. He downed the last of his drink, bracing himself against the cabinet. He needed to calm down. Calm down. Calm down, calm down… But, Hawk’s heart had been thumping the whole time. He tried to take a breath and choked on it, slowly lifting his head to look in the little mirror, above him.

Staring back at him was Russell Fuller.

Hawk no longer saw himself. Just the way Skippy had flinched at the sound of his voice. No… It had been his father’s voice. His father’s voice coming out of his own mouth. His anger, his sharp words aiming to cause only fear… Hawk recognized that fear in Tim’s eyes… The same fear Hawk had always held in his own, any time he had looked at Russell, while Russell Fuller’s own, evil blue ones burrowed back into him.

Evil blue eyes that Hawk shared.

Calm down. Calm down. You’re not him. You are not him.

Wasn’t he, though? The look on Tim’s face had not been just fear, after all. It had been devastation. Horror at the certainty in Hawk’s voice when he said that Mary would betray Caroline. He didn’t want to admit what Tim was surely really thinking.

‘Would you do that to me… if it came down to it? If it was me or you, would you turn me in? Sacrifice me to save yourself?’

Of course, I would. Anyone would… And yet… Hawk could not honestly imagine Skippy doing such a thing to him. To anyone.

Hawk tried to slowly back away from the monster in the mirror, but his feet were too heavy, like blocks of cement. He tripped over them, barely catching himself on the wall before he slid down it. White spots flooded his vision, the very air around him was poison. No. No, don’t. Not after this long. Please…

It had been years since Hawk had gone into a fit. After all this time, he had learned how to stop them, before they started. How to calm himself down. He needed to calm down. He couldn’t calm down. It was as if his ribs were bowing inward, crushing his lungs— a barbell on his chest would be less painful. His heart was palpating… the room rushed around him… Come back. Please, come back… No. You would sooner hang yourself, before you ever let your boy see you like this…

But, Skippy wasn’t his boy anymore, was he?

It took Hawk hours to get his breath back… Or it only took ten minutes? Hawk could never tell the difference…

Somehow, Hawk wound up back at the Cozy Corner. Odd… he didn’t even really remember leaving his apartment. He had drunk too much… or not enough… Same thing, really. Sure, enough, though, there was Marcus at the bar.

“He’s back..”

Hawk sat down, without a word.

“Look, for whatever it’s worth, I was way outta line the other night-“

“You were right.”

Marcus stared at him. “Somethin’ happen?”

Hawk scoffed and stole a swig of the other man’s drink. “Let’s just say… I think that we broke up. And if you really wanna make it up to me… I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Okay,” Marcus waved at the bartender to bring them another round. “Okay, you got it.”

“Thank you..” Hawk was honestly surprised he was letting it go.

“One thing, though-“

“There it is.”

Marcus sighed as Hawk took his own Glen Mhor and soda. “Whatever happened… you can probably blame me.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, not to be too presumptuous, but you look too down in the dumps to be the orchestrater of… whatever the fuck happened and… let’s just say I ran into Tim, the other day…” Hawk slowly put his glass down, waiting. “Told him all he was gonna get with you was trouble and that he should probably let you go.”

“Well..” Hawk forced a rueful smile. “looks like he’s finally taken the hint.”

“Hawk, I’m sorry-“

Hawk shook his head. If he smiled enough, maybe he would stop wishing he was dead. “Don’t be. Really.” He could not blame Marcus. Not one little bit. Everything he had said had been 100% correct. Monster. Coward. Craven.

“‘the Hell did you do, anyway?” What I always do. Hawk silently thanked the barkeep for his next drink and promptly dumped it on Marcus’ head. He seethed, dripping wet with liquor, but he didn’t punch Hawk in the face, like Hawk had been hoping for. Simply pulled out a hanky. “Fair enough.”

The next few days passed in a haze and the next thing Hawk really bothered to even pay attention to was Julius and Ethel Rosenberg’s execution. Watching the coverage at the Smith house, Hawk waited until Helen left the room to make his approach. Personal problems aside, Hawk had to deal with this.

“You’re on McCarthy’s Enemies List, Sir. They’re gonna try and find something on you.”

“Well, let ‘em look. I got nothing to hide.”

“We all have something to hide. If they can’t hurt you, they’ll go after someone you care about and if they can’t find something, they’ll invent it.” Not that they would need to invent much. Rumour alone of the truth about Hawk— or Leonard, for that matter— would destroy the Senator, but Hawk was not about to let that happen. “McCarthy’s not invincible. He’s got three weak spots; booze, Cohn’s ego and the utter uselessness of David Schine. That combo could be their downfall. I just need to find some ammo to speed it along.” A task that would be significantly harder, now that Hawk no longer had Skippy on the inside. Then again, apparently so would breathing.

The Senator shook his head, tapping his pipe against his wrist. “I wish you didn’t have to get your hands dirty so that mine can stay clean..”

Hawk had just smiled. “It’s the least I can do.”

The Senator smiled that warm, inviting smile launching into reminiscence about when Hawk was younger— the very picture of a proud papa, though not by blood. The very polar opposite of Russell Fuller.

“But, someone asked me, the other day, why one of the most eligible bachelors in town hasn’t married yet and well… Well, I couldn’t think of an answer.”

Fuck my life. Hawk tried to manage a sheepish smile, chuckle the question off. It had been casual enough, but clearly, the Senator was indeed looking for a response. “Look, Sir, I… I won’t lie to you..” I will. It is— quite literally, in fact— all I do. “I enjoy my freedom.”

“Oh, of course. As every young man should, I say, but Hawk… there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to grow up, settle down… find someone to be happy with.”

Hawk’s chest twinged again. Smith’s glasses-adorned face morphed momentarily into Skippy’s. I think I did find that…

“Great. What’s her name?”

Oh, fuck. Had he said that out loud?!

“I-I-I mean—“ Hawk’s voice cracked so hard he squeaked. “It— What I mean to say is that I should… I should have found it.” Lie with the truth. Make them believe it. “I should be grateful that… someone might even think of me in such a way. Most men would be honoured to be so… adored.” Big brown eyes stared at Hawk, inside his mind. He would probably never see them again. “I only wish I was worthy enough.” He shook his head. “No, I’m… I’m not a man that anyone should give their heart to.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Smith clapped him on the shoulder. “Son, you’re kind, you’re intelligent and you’re respectful. Not too hard on the eyes-“ That almost made Hawk left. “I am sure you’ve got women breaking down your door, every damn day, but if you’re holding yourself back from love, because you don’t think you deserve it… Well, that just might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Smith may have been laughing, but Hawk was not and he could no longer look at him. “That’s nice of you to say, but don’t you think that… some people… certain people… are just too good?”

“How do you mean?”

“Too good for this world. Too kind, too brave, too honest. The kind of person that comes around only once in a lifetime. Someone… rare. The best kind of person there is… who will make the world a better place. How can anyone hope to be good enough for them? And-And what’s even the point of… tearing yourself up, inside about someone you know you can’t have?”

Smith squeezed Hawk’s shoulder and he finally looked back. Smith was smiling, softly, knowingly and Hawk was suddenly petrified. Fuck— he had said far too much. “You know, when I met Helen, I was a…. a rake, to put it delicately. Why she ever gave me the time of day with all the games I was playing with her heart for the better part of a decade— I will never know.”

“But, you and Helen were high-school sweethearts?”

“Exactly.” Oh… Damn. Hawk had never known. “My point is— it’s never too late to change, Hawk. If you want to. If you have feelings for Lucy, don’t waste your life waiting to tell her, because you don’t feel like you’re good enough.”

Oh. He thought… Of course. “I know that I’m not..”

“Nonsense. Look, you’ll learn this when you have a daughter, someday; you’ll never feel like any man is ever really going to be worthy of your baby girl— apart from yourself… but, if it’s my blessing you’re waiting on, son… you have it. You always have. You know that. The rest is… up to her.”

Hawk nodded. “I… I think I’ll go see her, if I may?”

Oh, poor Senator Smith… If Hawk had asked her to marry him, today, Wesley would have said ‘yes’ on her behalf with open arms. For how close they were, Hawk had always held Lucy at arms length, for fear of this very day, but now, here he was, holding her hand like a proper suitor.

That was why the world wanted him to be, after all; Proper. Normal. The perfect man. And so, he would be. He would never marry Lucy. Some men like George may be able to manage that life, but Hawk respected her too much to ever let things go that far. Though, apparently not enough to not court her. Use her as a shield, until the heat died down. Hawk kept telling himself it was temporary. It’s only temporary.

On second thought, maybe George Bauers had the right idea. He loved Sylvie and his girls, truly and got to have his needs met on the side— everyone was happy. It was the way of things. Sure, George had almost lost fucking everything by being a moron, but it had all worked out in the end (Hawk refused to think of the ‘Eddie’ of the situation) and besides, Hawk was nowhere near that reckless.

Or, at least, he wouldn’t be. Not anymore. He had tried, he’d indulged, but it was over, now. Really, what had he been thinking? Was he really going to ask Skippy to run away with a man he hardly knew? Leave the job he loved, never see his family or the country he wanted so badly to defend, ever again? For what? Some stupid dream of some beach in Bermuda or somewhere? Where they would spend their days sipping Mai Tais and fucking under the sun?

Hawk had chastised Mary and her girl, but really, his fantasy had not been any less ridiculous. Pathetic, even. And that was all it was ever going to be; a fantasy. To even entertain anything else… Hawk had known better. It was futile to play pretend.

Only, now Hawk was playing pretend in a wholly different way. Pretending to be Straight. Pretending to be perfect. Pretending to be fine. Fuck what his father had said— Hawk was good at pretending…

About some things, at least.

Just never about Skippy.