Not something I pencilled in, no. But humor me - you're probably hungrier than you think. At least drink some more water.
[the shirt slipped off tim's shoulder gives him another point to fix his gaze on - something to think about later the way it exposes the enticing skin around his neck. it hits hawk quite suddenly that after he leaves (whenever that is - he's in no rush) - the scent of tim is going to linger against his pillow, the shirt in the bathroom that's been discarded. there's a pulse in his jaw at the idea of it, a sudden faraway look in his eye until tim adjusts himself and reaches for the plate. as soon as he's certain the boy won't faceplant into it or have another dizzy spell, he finally takes a seat in the chair again and sets down the cool glass, pushing the room temperature one off to the side to be discarded later. he'd rather be in reaching distance of the small trash bin just in case his hunch proves wrong and he needs to push back his hair and rub reassuringly at his back or escort him to the restroom again.
but the bread at least seems to have been a safe choice, and hawk watches the realization hit tim before he digs in a little more and explains his unfortunate, limited experience with local cuisine.]
5-star hotel - up the street from the Big House. I guarantee it puts the farmer's market to shame, and it's probably better sourced than whatever noise those groups are trying to push.
[he's not totally unaware of what happens on campus, including some of the local rabble-rousers and advocate groups - he just choses to distance from himself as much as possible when it comes to separating the personal and the professional. though tim is certainly giving him a run for his money in that regard. when the bread is finished, he lets them lapse into a surprisingly comfortable silence, hands folded on top of his chest. maybe he'll try and shower while tim gets some more rest, or he can try and take a few minutes on the couch and fight off the eventual exhaustion from the hours he's missed. the idea of sending tim home so soon doesn't sit right with him, and hawk has already accepted that most of his saturday will be spent with his student here. he'll get him a cab, and tim will be tucked into his own bed none the wiser of what else is to come in the week to follow.
there's that soft, distant look in his eyes again, and it's why tim's question catches him off guard as much as the sudden attention tim has placed on him.
it's the decent thing to do. anyone in my place would do the same -
is what he should say. but the reality is...the probably wouldn't. the smarter move would have been to call an ambulance, notify a parent - and yet hawk took it upon himself to do all of this and more, to make the choices that have led to tim laughlin sitting half dressed in his bed, which is the entire thing he's been trying to avoid since christmas. christ. there's no answer right away, especially not when tim follows up with his innocent, almost plaintive need for honesty in this moment. hawk looks away, lips tightening for a moment. his fingers itch for a cigarette or a tumbler of scotch - though vodka is probably the closest thing to appropriate this early in the morning. there's still a tension in his shoulders, guard up even as he glances back to tim with something cautious in his gaze. it's all he knows, even with this seeming truce they've found between them, existing in limbo that is too intimate to be considered professional company any longer and yet still too new to break down every wall.]
You're one of the good ones, Laughlin. That's a rare thing from where I'm sitting, and I'd hate to see it get snuffed out over any asshole here or in Staten Island.
[a pause, and he can't help the way his gaze turns fond without even realizing it. tim is more special than anyone he's ever taught, and he deserves to know it. personal feelings and conflict of interest aside...it's been a genuine pleasure.]
You're gonna be just fine.
Now finish that banana so you can get some rest, got it?
no subject
[the shirt slipped off tim's shoulder gives him another point to fix his gaze on - something to think about later the way it exposes the enticing skin around his neck. it hits hawk quite suddenly that after he leaves (whenever that is - he's in no rush) - the scent of tim is going to linger against his pillow, the shirt in the bathroom that's been discarded. there's a pulse in his jaw at the idea of it, a sudden faraway look in his eye until tim adjusts himself and reaches for the plate. as soon as he's certain the boy won't faceplant into it or have another dizzy spell, he finally takes a seat in the chair again and sets down the cool glass, pushing the room temperature one off to the side to be discarded later. he'd rather be in reaching distance of the small trash bin just in case his hunch proves wrong and he needs to push back his hair and rub reassuringly at his back or escort him to the restroom again.
but the bread at least seems to have been a safe choice, and hawk watches the realization hit tim before he digs in a little more and explains his unfortunate, limited experience with local cuisine.]
5-star hotel - up the street from the Big House. I guarantee it puts the farmer's market to shame, and it's probably better sourced than whatever noise those groups are trying to push.
[he's not totally unaware of what happens on campus, including some of the local rabble-rousers and advocate groups - he just choses to distance from himself as much as possible when it comes to separating the personal and the professional. though tim is certainly giving him a run for his money in that regard. when the bread is finished, he lets them lapse into a surprisingly comfortable silence, hands folded on top of his chest. maybe he'll try and shower while tim gets some more rest, or he can try and take a few minutes on the couch and fight off the eventual exhaustion from the hours he's missed. the idea of sending tim home so soon doesn't sit right with him, and hawk has already accepted that most of his saturday will be spent with his student here. he'll get him a cab, and tim will be tucked into his own bed none the wiser of what else is to come in the week to follow.
there's that soft, distant look in his eyes again, and it's why tim's question catches him off guard as much as the sudden attention tim has placed on him.
it's the decent thing to do. anyone in my place would do the same -
is what he should say. but the reality is...the probably wouldn't. the smarter move would have been to call an ambulance, notify a parent - and yet hawk took it upon himself to do all of this and more, to make the choices that have led to tim laughlin sitting half dressed in his bed, which is the entire thing he's been trying to avoid since christmas. christ. there's no answer right away, especially not when tim follows up with his innocent, almost plaintive need for honesty in this moment. hawk looks away, lips tightening for a moment. his fingers itch for a cigarette or a tumbler of scotch - though vodka is probably the closest thing to appropriate this early in the morning. there's still a tension in his shoulders, guard up even as he glances back to tim with something cautious in his gaze. it's all he knows, even with this seeming truce they've found between them, existing in limbo that is too intimate to be considered professional company any longer and yet still too new to break down every wall.]
You're one of the good ones, Laughlin. That's a rare thing from where I'm sitting, and I'd hate to see it get snuffed out over any asshole here or in Staten Island.
[a pause, and he can't help the way his gaze turns fond without even realizing it. tim is more special than anyone he's ever taught, and he deserves to know it. personal feelings and conflict of interest aside...it's been a genuine pleasure.]
You're gonna be just fine.
Now finish that banana so you can get some rest, got it?