[UNI AU]

[homosexuals]

CAMBOY UNI AU

tell me and i forget, teach me and i remember.

Comments

[apologetics]

[ shit. i want you too.

the validation there makes his blood sing with warmth and the fact that they have to end this is almost crushing. what would they be like, messy and tossed in the car, or what would the tension rise to if this car took him anywhere other than the georgetown campus dorms?

hawk's mouth trails along his cheek and jaw and tim arches toward him instinctively, sighing in a way that could only fall just short of a moan. hawk's mouth on him, his hands - the vision is everything he thought it would be when he laid in his dorm room on camera for this man. but he knows that can't be their reality - not right now. and he tells himself it's temporary, even though the reality of hawk rejecting him again after this, going back to strictly business, is very real. ]

I didn't want to take advantage.

[ funny, considering he's the one buzzing still with warmth from the wine, though he feels he has more clarity now than ever, even as hawk's lips find his forehead. his eyes flutter closed and he smiles, the gesture scrunching his nose as he nods softly and moves to sit back into his seat, pulling his seatbelt on.

it doesn't stop him from perching in the seat like he would were they in the privacy of hawk's office - heels coming up to catch the seat's edge, knees peeking up over the car door to the window. the car purrs to life when hawk starts it, and only when they're safely moving again does he reach for one of hawk's hands, delicately lacing their fingers and bringing their joined palms to rest over one of his knees.

it's not kissing, it's not the desperate touches and wanting, but a quiet little reminder that the tension on the air isn't all sexual and carnal. tim traces little patterns against the top of hawk's knuckles as the car moves on the road, the radio low in the background. ]

I like it when you call me Skippy, you know. [ he shrugs, grinning almost sheepishly over at him, leaning to prop his chin almost boyishly against their joined hands. ]

And good boy, of course. But Skippy, mostly. I don't have any inventive names for you, I'm sorry. Mister and sir - they're not very original, huh? [ and then, to add to the wry little mood hawk tries for? ]

I could call you Milton. Milty? Milt? Mr. M? [ he hums, knowing too well how this will go over. ]

[homosexuals]

Hey, that's supposed to be my line.

[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.

[apologetics]

[ tim isn't sure that a more perfect date and evening could even exist after this. the little suburbs pass them by as they drive, the car humming and the lights outside flickering by. the weight of hawk's hand on his knee and in his own hand are so comforting that he could be content to sit here like this for hours if they were allowed. the only way this night could be better would be if he could go home with him, pretend that this could be their life, that this could be his future.

maybe. one day.

tim squeezes the hand there softly, his head tilting so that it's his cheek that presses against their joined hands on his knee. he smiles a little, almost boyish and sheepish in the way that he flushes. ]

You will? I mean - [ a little embarrassed huff, then: ] I'm glad. That you'll be my man. I don't think I'd want any other man, anyway.

[ but there's the name - skippy - and tim just listens to the story of hawk's parents, the show, the sound. he can imagine that it must be a fond memory indeed, if the way hawk speaks is anything to go by. he's not blind to the implication that the show was only listened to when his father wasn't around - that's something tim knows very well. they have more in common in seems than even he had realized. ]

But I'm no angel. I think I'm fine with just being your boy - that's heavenly on its own, I think. I know that maybe things will be different - that there's a lot we both have to be careful of, of course. But I know you care. I know that better than anyone, I think.

[ he shrugs a little and leans back, keeping their hands tangled atop his knee, desperate for the touch and the connection. he dips his head one final time to press his lips against hawk's knuckles before his head tips back and his eyes drift over to the man in the dark of the car.

how is it he's handsome even here? ]

It's why I forgive you for the Uncle Milty line. I like Hawk, Hawkins, my man better. This night? This night has been beyond perfect.

[homosexuals]

Well that works out perfectly for me - I don't want any other boy.

[that's exactly what an angel would say - , he almost argues back, because in the passing lights that streak across tim's face as quaint suburbia transitions once more into city highway - he looks an awful lot like one. there's something so youthful and innocent about him despite what hawk has been a rapt audience participant for, and there's a part of him that still can't believe someone so perfectly dichotomous exists within his reach, let alone wants to be firmly held within its grasp. it's going to be torture waiting for more, but everything about tim makes it worthwhile.

one hand rests firmly on the wheel, the sky darkening above them as evening gives way to the outright cover of night, but hawk steals glances at how sweet his student looks curled up in his seat, catlike almost in the way he thinks he might drift away at any moment into the warm embrace of an evening doze in the passenger seat. there's something juvenile about the way all of this feels - thrilling rather than immature, even if deep down hawk knows it's reckless for both of them now that they've heightened their a connection to a level that might be easier to spot. might be harder to tamp down when they're spending time across from each other in his office, or passing the halls with intention in their gaze that's visibly magnetic to anyone within its range.

hawk hums when those lips brush against the tops of his knuckles, wishing they were somewhere else now that his own tingle with the phantom sensation of their kisses already much too far behind them.]

See, overlooking that might be your most angelic act yet.

[he's teasing, of course. but his fingers squeeze again, eyes fixed on the road so tim can't see the way sincerity and an emotion of vulnerability wells up that he's loathe to let be so easily read. still. he should know this:]

Best date I've ever been on. We'll get to more of them, one day - but I've got plenty of expectations for us.

[of course the drive has to come to an end eventually, hawk pulling into a parking lot that's further in campus, behind the sciences building and more secluded under the darkness and a few broken lights. there's a quick scan, ensuring no prying eyes before he turns to tim, unable to hide the longing and affection this time. his fingers untangle, lifting to shift tim's chin towards him and curve along his jaw.]

Thank you, Skippy. This won't be the last of us - I promise.

[there's a pause, hawk tentatively sucking in a breath.]

Would you let me kiss you goodnight?

[apologetics]

I like expectations.

[ the warmth of the wine coursing through his veins and the balmy summer air lulls tim into a sense of relaxation, an ease that rounds his shoulders and lets his head tip back against the seat as they drive. it's not too long a drive, not when he's allowed to hold hawk's hand like this, pressed against his knee. he tugs it up closer sometimes, perched higher on his thigh or up against his chest as they listen to the music and the sounds of the road outside.

but he starts to recognize the city more and more as they approach, even through his sleepy, half-lidded eyes. there's no denying that he feels as though he's floating in some vivid, loving dream. his grip on hawk's hand never falters, but only as they reach familiar sights does he tug their joined fingers below the line of the window - where they can't be seen, should anyone spot them. he knows they've talked along the way home - idle chatter about politics here and there, what's coming next, tim offering ideas for their next date - because of course, they both agree there will be one.

the campus signs light up in the dark of the evening. the sciences building is a bit of a walk from his dorm, but he won't confess that. he doesn't want to ruin the moment, even if there are closer, sneakier places they could tuck themselves away for a goodbye. the car stops, idles, and tim lets out a slow, deep breath. ]

I promise it won't be, either.

[ he undoes his seatbelt with a click and turns to speak just as hawk does, and tim blinks, mouth half open in surprise. he'd wanted the same - wanted to ask the same, and here it is, laid before him by the man himself.

he smiles in a way that crinkles his nose, tugs his mouth to one side boyishly, and he shrugs a shoulder, leaning his face into the warmth of hawk's palm. ] I was going to ask the same thing.

[ there's no hesitation this time when he leans across the arm rest, a hand reaching to press to hawk's chest, but he nudges their noses together first, a little eskimo kiss before he huffs a sheepish laugh. leaning in, he presses their lips together, firm and slow, letting the kiss linger. it's nothing of the filthy, desperate things from before - but firm, a promise of more, hope.

when he pulls away, he keeps his hand on his chest for a few seconds longer. ]

Have a great night, Hawk. [ not sir, mr. fuller, professor, none of that. his hand slides up slowly, and his thumb skirts the hint of skin at an unbuttoned collar. ] Don't stay up too late. Thank you again, for tonight.

[ it's hard to pull away - to resist - but slowly he leans back, opens the car door, scoops the strap of his bag in one hand, and slips out into the parking lot. ]