[ while he doesn't feel nearly as lost at sea as he did a couple of hours ago, he still feels hazy and under water. if he were more himself he'd be stopping to gaze at the apartment, take all of it in and truly get a peek at the man he absolutely idolizes (and wants) in a way most have likely never seen. but instead he wobbles at the door frame from the bathroom, pristine and expensive and tidy, reaching to take hawk's arm when it's offered.
they pass a door ajar, and a swirling glance in shows him the sliver of an office. a beautiful, wood desk. papers. a coaster. a glass. he can smell something on hawk's breath but it doesn't fully materialize into anything he should be worried about. he trusts him. who else in his life can he trust as much as he's relying on this man right now?
as they cross the threshold, he loses a little footing, leaning a little closer to hawk to keep steady. even if it means when he turns his head, a few damp locks sweet over hawk's shoulder, what with the way he sheepishly ducks his head following the mishap - tim tries to recover: ]
Your... your home is beautiful.
[ even laying eyes on the bed makes his body feel inexplicably heavy. the sleep he'd so badly needed earlier now tugging at the edges of his consciousness. he carefully lowers himself to the edge of the bed once the covers and sheets are pulled back and he sighs in relief at being stationary again, letting his eyes drift shut as his vision stills. he doesn't even notice the way the bottom of one glasses lens has fogged from the heat of the water and the flush of his face.
despite that, he can already feel the chills from earlier returning to his bones. he's careful in the way he turns onto the bed, wiggling in beneath the covers. only when he reclines, letting his head hit the pillow that immediately floods his overwhelmed senses with the very scent of professor hawkins fuller does he sigh, something almost turning into a little groan at the end. not quite the sounds made on camera, but were he not coming down off a drugged high in hawk's bed, it might not be too far off center.
but the bed is plush and rich, enveloping him even as he turns onto his side slowly to face hawk. he forgets his glasses, uncaring the way they tilt and skew themselves on his face. ]
M'cold.
[ he's pathetic. he should just ask for a cab and go to his dorm, but the longer he stays wrapped up in the bed, the more he can feel the strain on his body from the day. he fumbles for the sheet, the duvet, but even after he gets them to his shoulders, he hesitates. ]
Your bed is comfortable. [ tired, spoken in a little bit of a sleepy drawl, the drug and exhaustion finally taking its toll. he turns his head a little, the cheek touched earlier against the pillow case so for a moment he can imagine its warmth again. ]
S'big bed. I'll move if you need to sleep, too. S'okay if not. I... I won't be nuisance. I'm just so tired...
no subject
they pass a door ajar, and a swirling glance in shows him the sliver of an office. a beautiful, wood desk. papers. a coaster. a glass. he can smell something on hawk's breath but it doesn't fully materialize into anything he should be worried about. he trusts him. who else in his life can he trust as much as he's relying on this man right now?
as they cross the threshold, he loses a little footing, leaning a little closer to hawk to keep steady. even if it means when he turns his head, a few damp locks sweet over hawk's shoulder, what with the way he sheepishly ducks his head following the mishap - tim tries to recover: ]
Your... your home is beautiful.
[ even laying eyes on the bed makes his body feel inexplicably heavy. the sleep he'd so badly needed earlier now tugging at the edges of his consciousness. he carefully lowers himself to the edge of the bed once the covers and sheets are pulled back and he sighs in relief at being stationary again, letting his eyes drift shut as his vision stills. he doesn't even notice the way the bottom of one glasses lens has fogged from the heat of the water and the flush of his face.
despite that, he can already feel the chills from earlier returning to his bones. he's careful in the way he turns onto the bed, wiggling in beneath the covers. only when he reclines, letting his head hit the pillow that immediately floods his overwhelmed senses with the very scent of professor hawkins fuller does he sigh, something almost turning into a little groan at the end. not quite the sounds made on camera, but were he not coming down off a drugged high in hawk's bed, it might not be too far off center.
but the bed is plush and rich, enveloping him even as he turns onto his side slowly to face hawk. he forgets his glasses, uncaring the way they tilt and skew themselves on his face. ]
M'cold.
[ he's pathetic. he should just ask for a cab and go to his dorm, but the longer he stays wrapped up in the bed, the more he can feel the strain on his body from the day. he fumbles for the sheet, the duvet, but even after he gets them to his shoulders, he hesitates. ]
Your bed is comfortable. [ tired, spoken in a little bit of a sleepy drawl, the drug and exhaustion finally taking its toll. he turns his head a little, the cheek touched earlier against the pillow case so for a moment he can imagine its warmth again. ]
S'big bed. I'll move if you need to sleep, too. S'okay if not. I... I won't be nuisance. I'm just so tired...