[there's a light tease to his words, the acknowledgment that once again in this evening the student is teaching the teacher - but as he puts his hands on the steering wheel and reluctantly turns on the engine, a purring hum as it rumbles to life - he turns to look at tim and nudge him with an elbow to earn his gaze back.]
I mean it. I care about you and your future.
[another pause has he reaches for the shifter, reversing smoothly and pulling away from the quaint little road that's been their private hideaway for the last few hours.]
I care about what it means for both of us, you know that - right?
[his focus is on the road until he sees tim shifting, glancing over at a stoplight and smiling privately to himself at the boy's inability to do anything but curl up and crunch himself into small spaces - more than making up for it in the way his wit and charm and knowledge and personality eventually widen it. yeah, hawk could watch him do that all day. it's hard not to get lost to the daydream of it with lights whirring past in pretty streaked blurs of color, distracted enough by the differing scenery that he doesn't notice tim reaching for his hand until he feels it warmly enveloping his own, strong and soft despite the rough parts like callouses on his fingers from gripping his pens and doing the garden work his parents put on him in the summer. there's a light squeeze against tim's knee, affectionate more than untoward before he lets his hand rest and strokes a thumb along the side of his wrist.]
Yeah? It's what drew me to you, you know. Never told you this, but there was a show on the radio when I was a kid. Well - Mom listened to it sometimes, when Dad wasn't around. I'd sneak it in the mornings before school. Can't remember the name, but I remember Skippy.
Practically an angel, just like you.
[another soft squeeze as tim draws it upward, hawk tipping his head to offer a lingering quirk of his lips upward.]
It suits you.
[but it drops just as quickly in mock disgust, hawk shaking his head.]
Dunno what I was thinking. "Call me Uncle Milty?" It's a wonder you didn't log off on me the second I got you in one of those chats.
[there's a pause, hawk flexing his fingers again and letting his voice drop even as he keeps his line of sight straight forward, watching them navigate onto the exit back to dc.]
no subject
[there's a light tease to his words, the acknowledgment that once again in this evening the student is teaching the teacher - but as he puts his hands on the steering wheel and reluctantly turns on the engine, a purring hum as it rumbles to life - he turns to look at tim and nudge him with an elbow to earn his gaze back.]
I mean it. I care about you and your future.
[another pause has he reaches for the shifter, reversing smoothly and pulling away from the quaint little road that's been their private hideaway for the last few hours.]
I care about what it means for both of us, you know that - right?
[his focus is on the road until he sees tim shifting, glancing over at a stoplight and smiling privately to himself at the boy's inability to do anything but curl up and crunch himself into small spaces - more than making up for it in the way his wit and charm and knowledge and personality eventually widen it. yeah, hawk could watch him do that all day. it's hard not to get lost to the daydream of it with lights whirring past in pretty streaked blurs of color, distracted enough by the differing scenery that he doesn't notice tim reaching for his hand until he feels it warmly enveloping his own, strong and soft despite the rough parts like callouses on his fingers from gripping his pens and doing the garden work his parents put on him in the summer. there's a light squeeze against tim's knee, affectionate more than untoward before he lets his hand rest and strokes a thumb along the side of his wrist.]
Yeah? It's what drew me to you, you know. Never told you this, but there was a show on the radio when I was a kid. Well - Mom listened to it sometimes, when Dad wasn't around. I'd sneak it in the mornings before school. Can't remember the name, but I remember Skippy.
Practically an angel, just like you.
[another soft squeeze as tim draws it upward, hawk tipping his head to offer a lingering quirk of his lips upward.]
It suits you.
[but it drops just as quickly in mock disgust, hawk shaking his head.]
Dunno what I was thinking. "Call me Uncle Milty?" It's a wonder you didn't log off on me the second I got you in one of those chats.
[there's a pause, hawk flexing his fingers again and letting his voice drop even as he keeps his line of sight straight forward, watching them navigate onto the exit back to dc.]
But I'll be your man. Like the sound of that.