homosexuals | [SALTBURNT INBOX]

[ Tim asks one of the housekeepers where to find his room, and he waits, until the middle of the day, when Hawk is most likely to be out, before slipping an old-new newspaper under the door, with a handwritten note taped to it. ]

This is not an invitation. I still meant what I said before. But you should see this.

Maybe it would matter more if we were born fifty years later.

This is real, though. Not one of this place’s tricks. I was told by someone who was alive then.

I thought you would want to know.

[ It’s not signed. He’s confident it doesn’t need to be. ]

Wanted to check in - you get that black book yet?

Haven't heard of anyone else yet losing memories. Did see someone posted about a friend disappearing. Not exactly comforting.

I got some more information, too. Turns out some people talked to a staff member here - they haven't seen her since.

Less of a book, but yeah - I got something. Haven't had the chance to check on the authenticity, but it proves they're paying a lot closer attention than I'm pretty sure we'd all like.

Hold on - people are losing memories now too?

Christ. Has anyone requested her to turn down their sheets or - something to find out if she's still around?

I figured they had more information on us than we thought. Don't exactly like that myself. But with what happened with me and my friends - I can't tell if we had the memories and we forgot them, or if we left, somehow. Doesn't explain how I could live a few days in my dreams and wake up here, like nothing changed.

I considered it with the girl - but I feel like if we let on we know they did something, it could get ugly.

Look, not to get too personal - but were they good memories? Bad? A mix of both? Maybe it was a reward, or a punishment, depending.

A request for something mundane then. Or - I can play a cad. You know, pretending I'm in it for the eye candy. Watched enough assholes around Washington do it - should be easy enough to replicate.

It was neither punishment nor reward. Like watching a film of your life and knowing you lived it, and waking up as if you had. But we were here, trapped. How do you live a life elsewhere, but still be trapped in a place like this.

They know more about us than they let on, but if you want to play the cad, go on then. It will be very entertaining to watch.

Making my head spin just thinking about it. Don't go saying you think it was magic on me - I've just about had enough of the Catholic guilt and silliness and I can bear.

Mr. de Pointe du Lac - are you doubting my capabilities of being charmingly persuasive? Seemed to work alright on you. I wasn't playing then, though.

I honestly couldn't tell you what it is. Maybe they drugged us. But I promise you I don't think this is some purgatorial hellscape.

[ though magic isn't out of the question, he's just not going to bring it up here. ]

You didn't have to try and be charming with me, Mr. Fuller. Your looks were enough - so I bet you would do a fine job. Open your mouth, and I think you'd do better. That worked with me.

Well thank god some of us have 'em screwed on straight. I was pretty near-sighted thinking this was some bid from McCarthy to collect dirt on us too, but at least I can admit it.

[he sees louis not indulging that, but he's gonna let it slide for now.]

Oh, is that all it was? Seems awfully shallow of you, Louis.

[as if he hasn't banged every dark-haired twink at dupont circle on looks alone. he's also very much teasing.]

Duly noted. Better tuck that away for another time.

Wait, you thought this was a bad attempt at McCarthyism? While I could see that bastard making a sad attempt, but he'd burn himself to the ground faster than he could try and rebuke his obvious homosexuality. I'm glad you've seen the light.

I'd be happy to let you into my bed some night and you can tell me all about your theories for this whole fucked up place. Or we could find a room a little more anonymous, when mood takes us. Tell me I'm shallow all you want.

I'm going to your room to get you some clothes. Is there anything else you need?

There's a couple history books on my nightstand, if you don't mind.

Oh, and a glass of scotch.

You're a doll.

The nurse said no alcohol with the pain medication.

What happened to that gossip list that freaked you out?

That nurse said no alcohol. What about you, Florence?

It's somewhere safe. Why?

I think it would be smart to follow that advice.

You're in no state to follow up on it. Let me help.

One glass isn't gonna kill me.

I will be soon. Don't worry about it.

Probably not. But it won't help you, either.

Why wouldn't I worry about it?

It would help me a hell of a lot, actually. C'mon.

Because I'm handling it. All you need to do is lay low and don't give them anything else to take note on, okay?

Your way of handling it almost got you eaten by a werewolf.

I want to help you. There are smart, reliable people here asking the same questions, we'll find the answers faster if we work together.

So you can get eaten by a werewolf instead? Not a fucking chance.

I mean it, Skippy. When I've got something to tell you I will - when I think there's a chance you could help, we can put our heads together.

But for now, I need you to be careful and watch your back.

It won't hurt me. I told you that already.

If you don't even trust me to do research, when will you think I can help? I know how do more than fluff your pillows and put you in my mouth.

Once. It didn't hurt you once. Who's to say it won't try for round two?

Jesus christ. I didn't say I don't trust you with research - and I sure as hell don't think you're just here to play nurse and look pretty the whole time. I know you're smart and capable, okay? It's not about that.

You're not getting hurt. The house gave it to me, I'm the one who needs to stick my neck on the line and figure it out. End of story.

Twice. I went back in and it ran from me again.

I know you want to protect me. As you should, but that goes both ways. Yours, mine. If we do this together, we can watch each other's backs.

You went back in? Jesus - fuck, Tim. You're lucky you didn't get ripped to shreds.

It's why I need you to leave this alone. I'm not gonna let you chance anything again - and I've got your back, and I know you've got mine, but I'm not risking it.

They say third time's a charm, but I don't believe in coincidence and I'm not letting you rely on luck.

I know. I've spent the last week seeing what it did to you. I'm not taking it lightly, I promise.

The risk isn't your choice to make, Hawk. I can leave you out of it if that's what you want, but we can't do this on our own. It's bigger than us.

Damnit, Tim.

I know that. This isn't my first go around at the dog and pony show - it's just got better crown molding.

Don't leave me out of it. Look, will you just give me some time to look into it on my own when I get outta here? We can go over it together.

Edited 2024-07-15 02:27 (UTC)

It might as well be. There are werewolves. People from the future, people from other planets completely, people who can control minds. It's a completely different game than Washington.

That'll be weeks away. I'll just bring it to you, and we can start now.

Tell me where it is and I'll bring the scotch, okay?

Calm down. There's got to be a better explanation than - aliens and magic. This isn't a comic book, Skip.

...Timothy Laughlin, are you trying to bribe me?

I had a better explanation, you didn't like that one either.

[ Bouncing dots... ]

Yeah, I am. Don't say I haven't learned anything from you. :)

Purgatory is about the same, let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Touché.

Fine. Bring me some scotch and I'll tell you where it is. I'm not writing it down.

No it isn't.

Tell me now so I can spend the night with you instead of running all over the manor.

It is.

I like the sound of that. Pick up the phone when I call in a second.

[ He will, of course he will... ]

Hey. Are you still getting chills? I'm getting you a sweater, too.

Stir-crazy, more like. Could go for some cigarettes, too.

Anyway - are you in my room yet?

Yeah, I'm here. I'm packing you a bag. If you have cigarettes in here, I'll bring them.

Thanks, sweetheart.

Should be some on the nightstand. And if you go digging that second drawer of said nightstand, right in the middle between my ties, there's the paper you gave me. Bring that too.

[the scraps are tucked in between page 3 and 4, rolled up neatly.]

Found them.

Two changes of clothes, books, cigarettes, scotch, newspaper... [ The kind of absent minded, to-himself mumbling people do to make sure they've remembered their keys before they leave the house. ] Ah.

[ He wants to pull them all out now, but he's gonna be good and wait for Hawk... ]

Okay, I'm coming back.

Edited 2024-07-15 05:01 (UTC)

Thanks, Skippy.

[there's a fondness in his voice that's not just thanking him for the errands - the wordless notion that tim is there, caring for him even if he doesn't entirely deserve it.]

I'll see you soon.

[ the parties are over, the karaoke machine abandoned, the velveteen cushions upturned with their stuffing ripped out. the house has a lot of cleaning up to do after the wolf attack — which isn’t embry’s concern as he trudges through the sad-looking baths, once populated with sexiness and nudity, and now empty. he’s almost glad for it, though. ever since the wolfman had gotten its claws into him, embry hasn’t trusted himself around anyone, the hollow place in his chest where his demons roam suddenly bursting with his darkest desires. he wants to fuck. he wants to guzzle down enough liquor to drown his liver. he wants to indulge in every sordid fantasy he keeps leashed for his own good, the ones that hurt people and the ones that hurt himself. so it’s good that the baths are empty, because he’s the last person anyone should be around right now.

he’s bleeding again, his hastily bandaged wounds demanding attention from a professional, but embry doesn’t want to seek out any of the judgemental staff, and he doesn’t want to keep asking greer to look after him. greer is the worst one, all his want bundled like gunpowder inside of him; a single sight is enough to get him to go off, with how many years he’s wanted her. no, he has to stay away. from her. from everyone. it’s easy enough to take care of himself here while no one’s around, his shirt slipping from his shoulders as he unwinds the tattered bandages, the claw marks a deep, angry red cutting across his flesh. his left shoulder feels stiff, not dissimilar to the weeks he’d spent recovering from being shot up in carpathia, and his right forearm has seen better days, scratches gouged in parallel lines from his wrist curving to the inside of his elbow.

his belt clinks against the rock, his trousers joining it in a wrinkled heap, and then he’s wading into the bath, hoping the water will douse the burning pit of lust smoldering in him. he feels like shit, so why would he even want to seek out sex right now? it’s a compulsion, an infectious disease that he needs to purge from his system. tiny rivulets of pink swirl through the water when he submerges himself, the baths still warm enough to give the illusion of relaxation, but the truth is embry is wound tight enough to snap, his uninjured hand drifting to fist his cock underwater, his head breaking the waterline so he can suck in a ragged breath, water dripping from his lashes to glide down his cheeks. ]

[it's gonna have a lot more than couch cushions to clean up with the way things are going. the last few hours are a hazy blur of blood and teeth and claws - of quiet silence when it snuck up on him with barely any time to react. hawk had thought it was just a man then, squared up to defend himself like he might have any german back in velletri. the adrenaline hid the worst of his wounds - enough for him to stumble back into the house with a wooziness that doesn't feel like it's from injury per se as he spit out the cap of a corked whiskey bottle, guzzled down enough to make him focus on the burn down the back of his throat instead of his skin as he poured the rest over the angry scratches on his ribs and stomach. cleaned 'em up as best as he could, some more whiskey for good measure, and he'll be good as new.

and then the hunger kicked in. something gnawing and cavernous that needs to be satiated now before it claws its way out of the wounds that fit the shape of the marks that inflicted it in the first place. his own heartbeat pounds in his ears, every pulse of blood pumping through him feels alive under the stretch of skin. sweat, sex, something to sink his teeth into - christ, anything - he just needs it now. the thought of going back to tim in this state makes him nearly physically jerk at the thought, the idea that he might hurt him like this somehow, more than he already has in denying taking that stupid goddamn tag in the first place. he could have just shoved it in his pocket, tucked it in a drawer - could have tried to be someone else here like the entire fucking place keeps pushing him to be.

well he isn't. he's still the same bastard with his multitude of contradictions, feet carrying him to the baths for the promise of heat and near anonymity with so much skin and passing faces that it won't matter if he's another one pressed into a neck and fucking up into another body on a long tally of ones he won't remember. so of course it's just his luck that the baths are empty - dead to the world, not a single soul in here. there's a frustrated hiss as he debates turning from the entryway, ignoring the need and just forcing himself into bed before he does something stupid he might regret in the morning if he can even remember it.

and then he hears it: heightened somehow, impossibly, the little splashes of water and heavy breathing, hitting him like the weight of a hundred bricks as he already starts yanking his shirt off and tossing it to the side, slipping out of his shoes and socks and leaving them in the hallway leading into the sumptuous room. there's something in him that wants to sneak up on whoever it is, a predator seeking not to startle its prey. and what pretty prey it is - sculpted cheekbones flushed, dark lashes catching on his skin with flashes of steely blue in between.

embry.

hawk has no hesitation as he sinks to his knees behind him, leaning down and murmuring in his ear.]

You look like you need a hand.

[the blood in the water only makes him feel more starved, torn between dragging his hand through it and lifting it to his lips, reaching down instead from where he's still partway submerged to grip his wrist hard and tug.]

[ he wants to surge away — should do just that, but the minute hawk sinks down behind him his body reacts like a match struck, traitorous heat flushing straight to where hawk's fingers grip his wrist, dangerously close to his cock. it pushes a breath out of him, no way to hide his furious, wounded need. hatred seethes between his teeth, that he could be caught so easily. that he can't make himself move away, because the twisted, needy part of himself doesn't want to run. ]

Fuck off. No one asked you to come here.

[ his hand tightens around his cock, ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder. he wishes he would've thought to go find something more substantial to numb his thoughts. the last time he was wounded this bad, ash pumped him full of morphine and it was the best goddamn thing ever (besides his cock). there are plenty of drugs lying around here, but he's learned pretty quick that they all come with other side effects, some of which he doesn't necessarily want to mess with, so it's better not to indulge if he can help it. still, hawk isn't the answer to take the edge off, no matter how much his body sings for him. he's been down this road before, it doesn't lead anywhere good.

hawk's hurt, too. so the wolf got him — he only feels a little bad about that — and if he's feeling anything like what embry is, then — ]

You don't know what you're doing.

[ embry shoves him back, but the water isn't on his side, and he loses his balance and reaches out to regain his equilibrium, catching the sharp v of hawk's devastatingly attractive hip and digging his fingers in. he mostly goes careening right into hawk when he tries to turn around and get into his face and assert his dominance. embarrassing. that would never have happened to ash, and yet these things always happen to him when he's used to being the charming one in control.

his eyes flicker momentarily to the bandages looped around his ribs, now waterlogged enough that he can see the outline of raw claw-marks. it sparks some dark, unspeakable want in him, the special kind of fucked up reserved for those who have a one-way ticket to hell if such a place existed. his eyes glitter like a bruised night sky, his mouth abruptly parched. ]

I was busy. [ he swallows, now giving hawk a feeble shove. ] You interrupted me and now you're all wet.

donyounknow what the eucharist is?

please answer seriously

😀

Timothy David Laughlin - are you drunk?

To answer your question - 'course I do. It's the big boy wafer.

close enough. koby thinks im making things up

scrabble.

yes a little
its okay this is a normal party no wolf man no robot music no dirty dancing.

Guess all that time at Jesuit school was good for something.

Don't overdo it. Can't have you getting scooped up in the hall. Do you think you need an escort?

...There better not be any dirty dancing. And what's this about robot music?

only if you want to escort me. :)

the stuff they played at the underworld party. all boom boom boom with no real instruments. terrible

no dancing, just drinks and board games. do you know about margaritas

Well how else will I know you're safe? Big bad wolf is still out there.

Yeah, that. I'm inclined to agree. The ipod - that was much better.

Oh, I see we've discovered tequila. Don't tell me you've been gulping them like you do with scotch.

Ive got the bracelest
bracelet
i'm safe from the wolf.

it's fruity. but i'm gonna go back soon. I need you

And what if I'm the big bad wolf, huh?

That right. Tell me more - what do you need, honey?

then i'm done for. i'd let you tear me to pieces.

hold on.

[ He's feeling bold, but not bold enough to send off dirty messages in front of everyone. They'd be able to see it on his face, watch the flush creep down his neck even though it's so weirdly cold in here, for some reason. Tim's gonna step outside. ]

need to feel you inside me
press me into the bed, under all your weight. so I couldn't move if I wanted to.
need to see how long I can hold it in after, before it drips out.

That make you Little Red Riding Hood? Sounds good in more ways than one.

I'm holding.

[he can guess that tim is excusing himself, practically see the way he'd stumble in between a deep focus on the messages that have dragged him away.]

Mm. Well I think it's your lucky night. That can all be arranged.

You want me to hold you down and make you take everything I got to give, huh?

Might make you lick it clean, after. Or - could stuff you with something else. Politics isn't the only thing I've been brushing up on, you know.

yes.

i'll lick it clean

yeah? tell me

I know you got the riding part down pat.

Good boy.

You could keep me hot in you 'til morning. The Underworld probably has a handy little tool for that. Think you could take it all night? Carrying me around like that? Maybe I'd even make you wear it through breakfast just to watch you squirm.

I could keep it in as long as I want?

Yeah, honey. You like the thought of that?

Uh huh

I'm coming home

you can have me again before we're through. still slick from you the first time. and the second and the third

Christ, Tim. I'll meet you halfway.

Could take you again first thing in the morning, check on my handiwork when you're all bleary-eyed and pliant for and pretty in the sunlight for me. You want that too?

wanna wake up like that
with you on top of me

On top of you, inside you. You got it, baby.

What wing are you in? I'm coming.

Edited 2024-07-26 04:59 (UTC)

Told you I'm on my way. heading down to the second floor now, I'll be 10 mojites

minutes.

Gonna meet you halfway. Then it's only five.

[and what happens when it's five minutes and he sees tim stumbling down the hall, determination even in his sluggishly uncoordinated movements? hawk can't help the way he pauses from across the way, lips stretching into a grin and eyes sparkling brightly with an affection that's plain as day. there's no one in the halls right now, so there's no need for him to check over his shoulder as he quickens his pace and meets tim halfway. everyone's still at the party he'd skipped, tucked into bed, or maybe dancing away the night and their sins downstairs in underworld.

as for him? he's unbearably fond as he takes in a drunk and needy tim, not even asking before he bends to swoop him up into his arms and lean in for a hungry kiss.]

Hi, Skippy. Your escort's here.

[ Tim doesn't pause for a second when he sees Hawk from the other end of the long hall, his feet fly in front of him as if he hasn't got a choice in the matter, drawn in like a magnet. He doesn't look behind him, or around, or listen for voices or footsteps of anyone who might see them. Only forward, only Hawk. That's all that matters.

He lets Hawk pick him up with a big, drunken laugh, and leans right in to meet him. It's a little sloppy, tastes like tequila and ambiguously blue-flavored margarita mix, but he's eager, wrapping his arms around Hawk's shoulders without missing a beat, hand snaking up the side of his head to pinch playfully at his earlobe. His hands are cold, which is a side effect of the party drinks he hasn't clocked as such, since talking to Hawk has done wonders to rewarm the blood pumping through him, heat up the core of him with fantasies of letting him come inside him over and over and over. ]

Hi. [ Purred against his mouth, refusing to pull too far away, and chasing Hawk's mouth if he tries. ] You're gonna carry me home?

[there's a low groan of satisfaction against tim's lips, hawk resisting the urge to shiver when those tricky fingers tickle at his ear. they are surprisingly cold, a contrast the the usual warmth he's gotten accustomed to over the last few weeks of bliss basically living and bedding down with tim. even with everything he knows, there's something contagious about the amount of devotion in his every action. it makes hawk want to do more than just satisfy him - it makes him want to be a better man to deserve it in the first place.

his tongue snakes out to lick into tim's mouth, tasting the last traces of something fruity and salty with that tang of tequila. there's another long peck to his lips before he pulls away with an agreeable hum.]

Yep. The whole way.

[uttered between another press of his lips, and he starts the walk over half blind and blocked by the beaming face of his lover.]

You know - [another kiss peppered against the corner of his mouth - ]

Someday I'd like to test if it's all liquor that makes you frisky or just a few.

[ Hawk's tongue is a nice contrast from the sticky-sweet boozy taste coating his mouth, and he swallows around it, savoring the very welcome intrusion with a long, needy keening noise, rumbling against his tongue. His mouth chases after Hawk's when he pulls away, demanding another, and another. Short and sweet kisses, so sweet, like the last few weeks have been from morning to night. They've been together more often than they haven't and Tim only wants him more for it. It feels so blissfully normal, going out to see some friends, and coming back to Hawk waiting.

Is this how other couples feel, all the time? How can their hearts hold all that love at once? ]

I don't think it's the liquor, I think it's you.

[ Tim would want him just as badly sober, he's sure. He just wouldn't be so explicit about it, so demanding. He'd let Hawk run with his own ideas, which have never failed to thrill him and awaken yearnings in him which he hadn't even known existed. Going along with Hawk's desires have always, miraculously, mirrored his own. Tim doesn't think he could say no to anything, not with the way his body reacts to him as if it were made to, tenting in his pants right here where anyone could see then. ]

Hurry.

Oh, you think? I think - [another kiss, hawk licking into his mouth briefly with a hum, accidentally nudging sideways towards the wall and nearly cutting his elbow against some column with a precious heirloom.]

I think I could get drunk on you like this too.

[he's grinning as he pulls back slightly, gaze dropping to where there's a bulge of interest developing before his eyes. his grip adjusts underneath tim's knees, clutching him that much tighter to his chest so he can try and have some semblance of better steering down the hall. god knows what the house or giles will do if he dumps over some priceless antique bumping over too it because he's desperate to be on or in tim right this instant.]

Greedy, are we? I like that, yeah.

[thank christ he had the foresight to leave the door unlocked, bumping up against it to turn the handle and kick it open. he barely waits to nudge it closed before he's moving like a man on a mission, depositing tim on the bed none too gently and kicking off his shoes, shrugging out of his shirt and immediately caging tim on the bed to lean down and kiss him hard. his hips shift forward in a hungry grind, hands dropping to start tugging at his belt and prying his fly open.]

Get your shirt off. Hurry.

Yeah.

[ It's greedy. But he gets to be greedy, because Hawk is his and he is Hawk's, they've agreed, and they're together. Tim's wanted this for so long, and now that he has it, it's so much better than he could have hoped for. Overwhelming in its normalcy, coming home to someone who loves him. Just like everyone else.

He laughs as his back hits the bed with a little bounce, tipsy enough to be playful despite the roiling heat building in his gut by the second. On instinct, his ankles wrap around Hawk's legs, trying to draw him closer still as they kiss, Tim groaning into it, long and needy. His hand is just wrapping around to the back of Hawk's neck when he makes his demand, and he pulls it back obediently, moving instead to the buttons on his bright yellow shirt while his lover, his man, works off his pants.

After the shirt is shrugged off, and the tank beneath it pulled over his head, he lifts his hips to make Hawk's job easier, and watches him, leaning back on his elbows with his head tilted to one side. ]

Thank you, Daddy.

[there will never be a day when hawk tires of unwrapping tim the way he does now - the slow reveal of carved muscle that's deceptively hidden under some of his previously poorer-fitting suits and oversized attire. it feels like a secret that belongs to him alone (or at least, that's what he wants to believe and will continue to tell himself - nevermind luci or anyone else hawk has stupidly allowed him to run to. tim's hips hitch upwards oh so helpfully and hawk tugs off his pants, both legs at once before tossing them in a heap off the side of the bed. no time for playing coy, for ordering him to fold them. there's an urgency that reminds him of rehoboth beach as he leans down to groan against another heated kiss - it's only been a few hours, but he remembers the hunger and the aching desire that had been all consuming when they'd finally made their way into that hotel room and devoured one another.

and then tim drops a little surprise at him, hawk's eyes flying open as he pulls back with a light smirk at the affectionate and new moniker. like hell if that didn't make his dick throb.]

Trying that on for size, huh?

[hawk sits back on his haunches, working at his own fly with a renewed vigor to work himself out and not even bother taking off his own pants. the tip is reddened and already leaking with the telltale shininess of precum as hawk circles his own shaft and presents it towards tim with darkened eyes and a gruffness in the low timbre of his voice.]

This what my boy wants? Tell Daddy.

[ There’s a brief moment of unsure anticipation, curious what Hawk will think of him trying something that he’d learned, at least in part, from someone else. Not in whole though, the groundwork had been laid from the very first night, in that tiny illegal sublet and that bed that could barely contain the two of them, when Tim became his boy and never stopped, not even for a second. It’s just an acknowledgement, and a loving one, that it goes both ways, Hawk so eager to take care of him, protect him in a way that earns his obedience.

Daddy earns him a smirk, and Tim sends one back. Of course he likes it. Tim doesn’t go for terms of endearment nearly as much, since Hawk sounds as beautiful to him as anything else could, but this one, he’s earned. ]

Yeah, I want that.

[ His breath hitches in his throat as he confesses, his voice high and airy with his desperation as he scoots down on the bed, legs spread, so he can get nearer. He's hardly been touched, but still he trembles as if he's hanging over the edge. Or is it a shiver? Now that the touch is gone, Tim's skin feels cold again, even though the blood underneath it simmers. The opposing sensations border on uncomfortable, but Hawk will take care of him, he'll keep him warm from the inside and out, fill him with hot, wet seed until he's bursting. Just the thought of it makes him whimper. ]

I want you, need you. Please.

[ No one else will do. No one else knows exactly what he needs, no one else would see him as he is now, all pathetic pleading and wanton lust and love him even more for it. Only Hawk. ]

[if hawk knew this stemmed from someone else, maybe he'd have more objections. or maybe not, considering it stirs something deep in the recesses of his mind the same way calling tim his good boy must do the same - it's just fitting, and it sounds mighty pretty coming out of his mouth with that dick-drunk look on his face that makes hawk want to bend him in half and own him. which is, in essence, what he's about to do anyway. something about the way tim is mildly intoxicated and utterly genuine in everything he utters and displays in the moment makes hawk want to meet him most of the way for a change, emboldened by the bliss they've shared long enough to settle into a real rhythm these days.

besides, how could he say no to such avid devotion?

he braces both hands on the pillow, framing either side of tim's head to lean down for another slow and sensual kiss that does nothing to deter his own urgency, eventually letting one wander to his side of the bed and the top drawer where he's tossed the lube.]

It's all yours, baby. Don't worry - I gotcha. Told you I'd fill you to the brim, and I intend to keep that promise, you hear me?

[there's a nip to tim's bottom lip, enough to distract as he warms up some of the lube against his fingers and reaches down to press his middle and pointer finger against the tight little rim between his cheeks. who said he can't rile him up a little first - fill him with his fingers before his cock and his cum? if there's one thing he'll never get tired of, it's getting to watch tim fall apart without needing to stifle his moans or bite down on his cries, as intoxicating as any of the tequila coursing through his bloodstream right now.]

Christ, I'll never get over how tight you are, Skippy. It's all mine, yeah?

[ He matches the languid, intimate pacing despite his craving for more, letting Hawk form a shield over him that warms him up bit by bit. It's always so easy to do, let himself be led by him, put complete faith in the fact that he'll be taken care of. There's been bumps in the road, but he's never left Tim wanting when it comes to this. What his body needs, Hawk will provide, and he's getting better at the heart and soul, too. It's some kind of heaven, being in this room with him. ]

I hear you. You'll do it, you will.

[ Soft babbling into the kiss, against Hawk's lips in as he tries to pull him closer still, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around him, back arching just to feel the warmth of Hawk’s chest on his. It feels like he's bursting already, like he can't control himself despite his desire to be good and do what he's told, his body greedy enough to move on its own. Fingers tangle through Daddy's hair, over the shell of his ear, anything just to have or taste a little more, Tim's kissing frantic like being inside might not be enough, like he needs to absorb him. The slick fingers prodding against his hole are welcomed with a sweet, needy little moan, a relaxing of the muscle that's become an automatic response. A ritual as cherished and familiar as any in the church. ]

It's all yours. All of me.

[ Repeated back, like the call and response of a prayer. Amen. ]

[he'd said the same thing weeks ago, and it already feels like a lifetime: yeah alright, i'm yours. because it was true ever since they'd locked eyes across the bar at mccarthy's election night, every meeting after only solidifying the space in hawk's heart that could only be filled by the shape of tim laughlin. maybe it's too much for him to outright say it like that, to let his feelings simply exist in the space and expression the way they're meant to. but this is the part he can always and unquestionably fully give himself to: bringing tim to a higher place of bliss and ecstasy and take greedily of his body and his boy all for himself. at a base level it's sex, yeah, of course it is. but when he thinks of eddie koeffler and all the men he's fucked before in short bursts at clandestine locations with no intention of ever seeing them again - it doesn't even come fucking close to what they have here behind closed doors.

and maybe jesuit high school never did it for him and he doesn't believe in god, but he can believe an angel walks among them in the form of tim laughlin. knows it's real when he offers himself like a sacrificial lamb when he gets on his knees or stretches onto his back and gives up everything he has freely to hawk. it makes him want to possess it from the inside out, to claim him like he did with the cufflinks and the words spilling out of his lips back in rehoboth beach: i belong to hawkins fuller. no matter what happens to them here - there will be a part of it that's always true, and it scares the hell out of hawk to think that their souls are twined together forever now.

it makes him kiss that much fiercer, tongue slipping into tim's mouth and swirling against the slickness of his own as his fingers push past any lingering resistance and drive deep inside the velvety heat with a low groan. they pull back with ease, sliding back inside and crooking this time in search of the one spot that'll have tim's eyes go wide and his moans get that much louder and needier. his forehead stays pressed against tim's, feeling damp hair crushed between them as he looks him in the eye and nods, encouraging him to fall apart.]

Go on honey, tell me how that feels. It's not enough, is it?

[ There's a strangled sound, muffled around Hawk's tongue, a low moan from the moment he breaches his hole. The sensation is familiar and cherished, the stretch of thick, strong fingers filling him up making him sigh with relief the first moment he can get a breath in, between the deep, brain-addling kisses. Tim's hands fist in his hair as he squirms, not from discomfort but from the craving for more, trying to rock back and fuck himself deeper on Hawk's fingers, but not quite getting there, pinned down by his weight as he is. ]

Good. [ Single words between pants, nodding back, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he sinks deeper into this space, the one only Hawk can put him in, where all things beyond the two of them slip from his mind. Whatever he ate at the party, whatever's made him cold, doesn't matter a bit once Hawk curls his fingers into that spot that makes him unravel, makes his mouth fall open with a cry that's almost a scream, in direct proportion to how badly Tim needs it. ] God. Hawk.

[ It's hard to tell the difference when he's like this, looming over him with his sweet words, his promises of heavenly bliss, rewarding Tim's devotion with what feels like all the love in the world. He doesn't have to say it for it to be known, it just is, inherent and obvious enough for him to believe in and hold as a steadying constant, through every unanswered prayer or broken promise. It doesn't scare him to hold Hawk up on such a holy pedestal, to relinquish himself to him, body and soul.

It used to, because it's never just sex, for Tim. When it's cheap and tawdry, it's a shameful reminder of his own shortcomings, his desperation and lack of self-control. With Hawk though, it means something, he's managed to unlearn the shame and turn it into something else, to make even the filthiest things he can think of seem sacred. ]

More. Daddy, please. Please fuck me.

[ Writhing beneath him, so desperate to push his fingers a little deeper that he's forgotten to take the cross from around his neck. ]

Yeah, look at you, christ.

[it'll never stop being the hottest goddamn thing to watch tim fall apart with barely even a touch - his dick isn't even anywhere near and he's begging for more. loud, unabashed, pure in his utter devotion and the way his body is offered up solely for hawk's taking and utter ruin. it's not a gift he takes lightly, letting his lips drag hot and open-mouthed against tim's jugular and the strong line of muscle down to the juncture between neck and shoulder, teeth nipping and worrying at the skin without a care in the world for what sort of mark he might leave. why shouldn't he? tim is his, this is their sanctuary, and not a single person here can judge them for it. at least, that's the mantra he's been trying to tell himself these past few blissful weeks.

hell of a lot easier to believe when he's got this angel utterly desperate under him, rocking himself onto thick fingers like he might work himself to the edge that only hawk can drag him over and catch him and do it all over again. he could keep him like this for hours if he were cruel or playful or anything but starved to consume the offering he's been given - laid up like the very eucharist itself, body stretched and willing for whatever will come to it. hawk's free hand lifts to tweak at one pretty pink nipple, thumb and forefinger tugging it mercilessly as his fingers pull free from the warmth and the grip that feels like it might keep him there awhile. much as he'd like to play the game, hawk is only a man too - hot-blooded, cock hanging heavy and flushed between his own legs and hard enough to cut glass.

there's a low hum against his neck, hawk still tonguing at the spot that's already blooming a pretty red from the way his teeth have nipped and prodded at it, even as he reaches down to push tim's thighs wider apart in anticipation.]

Shh, lemme see you - just one more minute.

[his hands grip around the firm muscle, flexing against every tremble and shudder as he drinks in the sight of tim flushed and debauched and empty - hole flaring around nothing that only he can fill up.]

You're so goddamn gorgeous, you know that angel?

[there's another quick kiss, stolen and hungry as he finally wraps a hand around the base of his own leaking cock and lines it up. no more taunting, no more games - not when he pushes forward slow and tosses his head back with every velvety inch dragging him further and further in to claim what's always been his.]

[ He makes a soft, keening sound, fingers twisting in Hawk's hair to hold him there against his neck to beg him for more without the unintelligible babbling. Tim's not worried that he'll leave a mark either, he's more worried that he won't, that he'll be so eager to take him, to claim him right here in this room that he might leave his boy unmarked, accidentally leave it up to interpretation who he really belongs to. Hawk, always Hawk, and he repeats that name like prayers over a rosary, with every touch and every cruel lack of it.

Tim's limbs shake with his impatience - and sure, this time he's ingested things that are helping to rile him up, to need it even more - but he isn't even aware of that, just barely over the way he burns for Hawk on a base level, all the time. In the morning, he wakes up, looks over at Hawk, and he wants him. In the afternoon, he thinks about him, remembering the last time his lips were on his neck, and he wants him. At night, he crawls into his lap, wanting him, wanting him, wanting him. ]

Hawk.

[ A louder, higher whine as he takes his fingers back from Tim's hole, leaving him empty and unsatisfied, muscle clenching as if his body is searching for that missing piece. Frantic for it, he grips tight around Hawk's wrist, pulls it to his mouth to swallow those two fingers. A low moan, and his eyes flutter closed, with the bliss of finally being filled somewhere, by something. Tongue slicking over his fingers, he can taste himself on every knuckle, in every ridge, under Hawk's fingernails and in his fine hairs. How it should be, the two of them mixed together until they're nearly one.

It takes a second to register the question, but he opens his eyes and nods, too busy sucking his fingers like a man possessed for a real response. Saying yes isn't entirely true, but it's not a lie right now - he doesn't think of himself as gorgeous until he sees himself through Hawk's eyes, desirable and precious and endearing in his shamelessness.

Hawk's fingertips are in the back of his throat and his cock is finally pushing into him, stretching him open with just the right amount of burn, taking him easy, welcoming him home. He swallows around Hawk's fingers, hooking his ankles around his thighs to pull him closer, deeper, muffling a mmhmm around his mouthful. ]

[ 3am during the lockdown, in a series of separate, rapid-fire texts after he's been drinking on and off for nearly twelve hours — ]

fire in the hole wyd "i like you embry" don't ever say that shit to me again are you happy open the door it's safe what the fuck is wrong with you wyd i miss your cock i miss it is sneaking around with me that fucking bad why does it always have to be all or nothing what the fuck is wrong with you and ash and everyone OPEN THE DOOR parisa said don't open the door how many times did you almost die in the war

[he's not asleep, and thank christ he's not in bed next to tim who would absolutely be wondering why his phone is pinging off notifications like fireworks on the goddammn fourth of july. alicent's here too, and he smiles politely and a little awkwardly at them both wondering who the fuck is blowing him up right now. especially when the one person who would care that much is already sitting here.

oh.

the first two he ignores. wyd - he'll have to look that one up later when he's not ready to pinch the bridge of his nose and exhale in frustration at this mess. embry is either less discreet than he bargained for or he's fucking wasted, neither of which he likes the idea of. loose lips, and all that. he's not opening the door. he doesn't know about "wyd". all he knows is that it's wrong for his cock to twitch with interest when embry says he misses it and then for his chest to pang inconveniently with guilt again when he reads the last few.]

How much have you had to drink tonight? I don't know Parisa, but tell her to cut you off.

[he should leave it at that. except.]

I sneak around with everyone. Don't take it personally. And it wasn't bad - it wasn't you.

[the scenario where pillow talk over war stories and scars is somehow the less vulnerable here is staggering, but here they are.]

Told you about the business end of that Krupp, didn't I? That's the closest.

What about you? I've seen your shoulder. Shin, too.

[ he doesn't think hawk is going to respond after the first few messages go unanswered, and a part of him is grateful while another part is ridiculously, pathetically stung. embry doesn't go ignored. he's the charming one, the center of attention, the best-looking man in every room and washington's most adored playboy. it just goes to show how far he's fallen that he's furiously (drunkenly) texting some annoying taken loser in the middle of the night while so wasted he's practically staring cross-eyed at the screen. ]

she can't cut me off because i'm supplying myself with drink.

[ he's a grown man????

it's even worse if hawk sneaks around with everyone. that means for all of embry's experience with being a model closeted citizen both in the army and in the goddamn white house, he still isn't good enough to make the cut. which is bullshit, because he's fucking good at it. he's great at it. he knows he is, because he knows what it's like to not be in the closet, considering how many cocks he proudly sucked at boarding school. ]

were you scared? really? now you wanna picture me naked? anyone ever told you about your bad timing?

Well if you ask me - and I know you didn't - she should. You're gunning for a wicked hangover tomorrow.

[thank christ he's sticking with war stories. that's good. it means embry won't do something stupid like barrel out into the hallway and get himself hurt. it also means they can be mature enough not to address the elephant in the room and he won't be tempted to let this slide into sexting territory.]

I'd like to think it doesn't sound like bullshit to say no. I remember - running on adrenaline wondering how I was gonna tell two wives there weren't enough pieces left to collect and ship back outta their husbands.

Just because I shouldn't touch doesn't mean I can't appreciate what's been in front of me.

Your turn. Same fight? Tell me what happened.

[ he's thought about it. barreling into the hallway just to see what might happen, because death has rarely felt real until he's already down for the count and ash is cursing and dragging him back toward the land of the living by the force of his iron will and the sheer magnitude of his fury that embry would ever try to leave him in such a horrific way.

the fire in the halls doesn't feel nearly as real as the hurt pounding through his chest. ]

it doesn't sound like bullshit. i wasn't scared, either. not until later. when everything started to feel fuzzy and hurt.

[ that's sobering. it reminds him of dag dying in his arms, embry trying futilely again and again to make the call to his sister with no service in a warzone, because dag was asking on his last, sputtering breaths. he would have done anything, including collecting skin or hair or bones to bury just so he could be buried. his gin comes back up as acid bile, and he spends a long moment catching his breath. ]

same fight. i got angry and did something stupid, according to ash. got shot twice. sources say i would have died if he hadn't carried me out into the woods and watched over me until sunup. he stole supplies off some dead carpathian soldiers, patched me up, and pumped me full of morphine to help me make it through the night. three months of rehab and now i'm good as new. do you want to know a secret? stop doing that. you don't have to butter me up just because you think i'm sad over you dumping me.

Edited (i hit post too soon oop) 2024-08-08 23:28 (UTC)

Ah, so he saved your life too. That's an awful long time to wait out help. Particularly with two bulletholes riddled in your body.

...Did he stay up with you the whole time that night? He must've had to. Rehab - well, not to date myself, but I gotta imagine it's more than it used to be cracked up to be in my day. My version was a little cabin in Delaware. Private, discreet, gifted to me by that Senator I told you about. Took some time to get my head screwed back on straight...but I've never looked back.

Yeah. If you were here, I'd tell you to whisper it in my ear. I'm listening.

You know, last I checked angry fucking didn't constitute a relationship, which is how you wind up dumping someone.

And for the record - the only people I butter up are the ones dumb enough to think I won't shove them into an oven to cook later.

You're hot, and I have eyes. End of story.

i needed the rehab to help me walk again. the bullet tore through my calf. my head was fine.

[ was it ever fine? sources unknown. ]

you don't want me to whisper this secret in your ear. do you remember how you fucked me in the baths after the wolf attack? i was bleeding. damn near delirious, but i didn't tell you that. you weren't in the best of shape, either. i liked it. loved it. that's what happened in the woods that night. ash fucked me with two bulletholes in my body, as punishment for my reckless actions. or something. that's only part of the secret. the rest is that i wanted it. i wanted it exactly like that, while i was high off morphine and bleeding and halfway delirious. that was my first time with him, after years of trying to convince myself i didn't want him. exactly the same as what you did to me. that's why we worked. because maybe you didn't understand what i needed until right now, but you were still willing to give it to me. and i understood you. i didn't need commitment or coming out or any of that from you. i needed you to be exactly what you are. i just wanted someone else who wasn't pretending to be a good man. tell me to stop.

Good thing you can do a hell of a lot more than walk with those legs now, huh.

[he's not buying that for a second, but he'll give him the grace not to push it tonight.]

'Course I fucking remember it. I was bleeding too, and it was - I wanted more. Can't tell you the last time I felt so genuinely starved to see more of it, to take and not worry about you getting precious about it.

So it makes sense he fucked you like that. Makes sense you've probably been looking for it ever since, and not just anyone can give it to you.

Because not everyone is as fucked up as you and I - but we're willing to do what has to be done, consequences be damned, and forget about the pieces on the floor when it's said and done. Don't spare a thought to the ones we're leaving behind, no time for heartbreak - something like that, isn't it?

[someone who wasn't pretending to be a good man. i needed you to be exactly what you are.

jesus.

for all the times he's shoved himself into the perfect boxes of what everyone wants him to be - senator smith, lucy, mary, cohn, bobby kennedy, joe alsop, his father - even tim, here - he can't remember anyone ever saying that hawkins fuller, wearer of many masks and buried down deep somewhere underneath them all, was fine just the way he is.

he spares a glance over to tim, a polite smile to alicent while angling his phone closer to his body and punching out another reply.]

If I was a good man, I'd tell you to stop. Except: I can't do the things I do and be good - but you know that better than anyone.

Go on.

everything you're saying is exactly why i want you. everything about you. you fill a need. it's not some fairy tale bullshit i'm chasing. i need this. i need you.

[ the pathetically disgusting reality of that hits him like a slap in the face. there's nothing that could ever shake his love for ash, nor diminish his feelings for greer. but hawk is his solace behind doors that will remain permanently closed, and there's a certain relief in knowing that. there's comfort in the knowledge that he can never disappoint hawk on a monumental scale the way he does ash, because there's no love between them. there's something else of a different sort of complexity that he finds just as important, just as necessary. hawk is the absence of expectation when embry feels like he's suffocating from his secrets, when looking ash dead in the eye physically hurts.

and yet — his bitterness is a living thing, souring his thoughts. at the end of the day, he doesn't need anyone, not ash and not greer and certainly not hawk. ]

but you don't get to close the door in my face and then order me around. i'm not asking you for shit. do i look like the kind of person that needs to come crawling on their hands and knees for a fuck?

[ no matter how much he might enjoy that sort of thing. ]

i'm willing to do what needs to be done. consequences be damned. forget about the pieces on the floor when it's said and done. i accept everything about you. don't change at all. go do what you said you were gonna do. it wasn't with me.

[fuck. it feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out before he's gotten suckerpunched. i need you. it's not the first time he's ever been told it - even if it is the first time he's reading it so plainly in black and white with all the caveats that come with it. hawk swallows thickly, tim and alicent's chatter fading into a dull noise in the background.]

No, but you'd look mighty fine doing it anyway.

[he's a fucking asshole. but he's a fucking asshole who was thrown a bone: of embry knowing that about him and wanting it anyway.]

I'm not closing the door. But I am - I don't like it. I'm sorry.

[another word he doesn't say often enough, if at all. the last part he just leaves on read, guilt roiling his insides something fierce.]

[He doesn't know how to start the conversation -- hey you broke the heart of someone I care about so much and it makes me mad but I'm also worried about you but also fuck you but also maybe I made out with your not-boyfriend but also I wouldn't have if you just put a ring on it, god, what is wrong with you Republicans maybe? Seems a bit long-winded.

So:]

What room are you in? I need to update my map.

[hm. seems pointed. unfortunately it's completely valid.]

Don't worry about it. Probably better off not being found over on this end anyway.

[it is for actual safety reasons. reasons he won't be going into.]

...How is he?

I can just knock on every door until you tell me.

[No idle threats here; he'd actually do it.]

How do you think? I'd ask what's wrong with you, but I don't think even you know.

Your knuckles are gonna get sore around here. Plus you just gave away your strategy: now I'll see you coming.

[how does he think. probably not well, if the nightmares are anything to go by. just like his drinking is something for tim to go by too.]

You might not understand it, but I have my reasons. I'm trying to protect him, and it's the only way I know how right now.

You're underestimating how much stamina I have, Hawk. I'm very annoying when I have a purpose. No, I don't understand. And I think you should figure out another way to protect him, because the way you're trying right now is stupid, and causing more harm than good.

Oh, I don't doubt that. What did I tell you? You're definitely cut out for the marines. Or security, at the very least.

The best way I can protect him is keeping him away from it. It's non-negotiable. And I know...it feels an awful lot like cry wolf [ha, the irony - ]for me to tell him I'll be back, but I mean it.

He's lucky to have you. Can you just - keep an eye on him? I know it's a lot to ask, but don't let him go getting into anything stupid while I'm gone.

You HAVE seen me in person, right? I don’t know if I’d make the best security guard, honestly. In my experience, being told “I know better than you”, even indirectly, is enough to make people upset, even if you mean it kindly. Is “it” something going on here? Or something you brought with you? Have you told ANYONE what’s going on, in case something happens and you can’t “protect” people by pushing them away? [Ouch. Still, as blunt as it is, Koby means it kindly – there’s clearly something happening, and if Hawk ends up incapacitated, who’s going to keep his secrets?

Heavy sigh.] Of course I’ll keep an eye on him. I’d do that regardless.

You'd have the element of surprise. As long as you know what to do with it.

If I give him an inch, I know him. He's gonna try and get involved and I can't have him near this, do you understand that? It's recent. In the house.

I've got to keep this one close to the chest. I've got everything I need - to keep it out of reach.

If you don't hear from me in two weeks time, go to the library. Ask for "the last thing Hawkins Fuller was working on".

...I'm trusting you with this. Only if you don't hear from me, got it?

I know what to do with an advantage, sir. [It slips -- which one does Hawk remind him of, Garp, Bogard, Morgan? No, not Morgan, not that level of casual cruelty. Closer to Bogard, if anyone, tight-lipped and solemn and carefully calculating, always staying one step back, in the shadows. It's an odd comparison, one that makes Koby's chest ache with a sudden pang of homesickness.

But then: information, something to grab onto, Hawk says it's something recent, in the house, something that's a result of them being here. Koby immediately has a thousand theories, trying to put together everything he's seen, the last time he'd seen Hawk had been the night of that party, that was it, that was--

And then Hawk says I can't have him near this and something pangs sour and tight in the pit of Koby's stomach. He knows that feeling, the need to keep a secret to protect someone. Nosing around had only put himself at risk before, an acceptable danger in Koby's mind, but the Straw Hats are here, Quentin is here.

So, even though he desperately wants to go to the library right that second and accost the nearest librarian, Koby just notes the day, the time.] Exactly two weeks? From tonight? To the minute, or approximately?

[sir. cute. it's been a long time since anyone's called him that in a semblance of authority that wasn't imposed by work.]

Good. I'd expect nothing less.

[there's a pause, hawk wondering if he's taking the info down to run off and tell tim, or to head to the library now and do some digging. but he's going out on a limb here - after koby's the one to tell him about trust -

thank fuck.]

Two weeks from tonight. If I'm not at breakfast to grab a coffee and give you a nod, you go to the library.

I'll check in with the next date after that. It's not always the same.

[how the fuck do the phases of the moon work. he doesn't know.]

Oh - and one more thing. How much do you know about that Danny kid?

[For all his need to know and understand things, Koby is loyal before he is anything else. Hawk's made a request of him, something important, and ultimately all he has is his word. He'll honor the terms, and won't breathe a word of them, and he'll also be especially vigilant during breakfast in two week's time. Both can be true.]

The next date? This is going to be a repeat situation? [Quietly logging that away to puzzle about later.]

"Know" is a loaded word. I have a vague idea of some things. We've spoken a couple times.

[Spoken...flirted...been warned about...then there's the matter of the photos, which have honestly remained on the lower part of Koby's list of priorities. At this point he'd be surprised if there's someone who hasn't succumbed to their desires as a result of this place. Still, it makes him blush to have Hawk ask about it.] Why?

For now, until I can figure out how to get it to stop. Yeah, it's a repeat situation. But I'm doing everything I can to keep it business as usual otherwise.

[hm. do those vague things allude to the same psychotic tendencies embry is insisting on? the warning from louis to watch his step?]

I've got a bad feeling about him. Friend of mine - he's giving him some trouble. Seems like he gets his kicks from following people around and waiting for compromising positions.

Tim won't hear a word of it. Probably thinks he can save his eternal soul.

But some people don't have one of those. You know, that right?

For now. Okay. If it's something you end up wanting me to research, you know, I'm pretty good at it. Maybe not now, but. If that ever becomes something you want.

[The pit in his stomach yawns wider, a sick sort of dread curling up his spine.] The photos. That's I guess it makes sense they'd be of multiple people, not just [Not just me.]

That sounds like Tim, yeah. He wants to believe the best of people. So do I, but I have limits.

Yeah? Well - I'll keep it in mind. I promise.

[at face value, it might look like a brush off. but he's got more books than he does time to wade through, and it is tempting. maybe even letting tim in to help with that part of it -

no. he'll get sucked in too deep.

his focus is immediately dragged away at the mention of photos.]

Yeah, photos. He's got them on you too? I'm not gonna pry - but, do you want them back? Did he offer you anything, or bait you in any way?

Tell him for me. Please.

...I'll owe you.

[that's a big thing to offer coming from hawk.]

[It's better than an outright refusal -- Koby can work with noncommittal, especially if the situation gets more dire and Hawk ends up in over his head, which seems likely. But he'll keep that to himself for the moment, in light of more pressing matters.]

At least one, possibly more. It's embarrassing, but not anything I'd be desperate to hide -- not in the context of this place. He's been very Solicitous? Nice? To me, at least. I wouldn't have known anything was wrong if you hadn't warned me. [Which is frustrating in itself, makes him feel naive and guileless.]

I'll mention it. If things go Poorly, in a couple weeks, do you want me to tell Tim what's going on? [Not that Koby’s in any way positive what that is, but he's a smart guy. He has some theories.] Or investigate solo?

Yeah, I'm sure he has.

[it's not a criticism of koby, more like derision that this guy is some sort of snake looking for someone gullible or perceived as an easy mark. he's curious what the end-game is here - doesn't seem like harmless flirting. embry's text sticks out like a sore thumb: serial killer behavior.]

From what I've heard, it's not nicety for the sake of it. He wants something. More pictures, more compromising material on people - I don't know. I'm gonna try and find out, but you know how Tim is.

[he'll give everyone an inch, confess things openly and freely and put his trust in people who don't deserve it.]

...No. Warn him about this creep, but keep him out of the rest of it.

Please.

I'll be more carefull. I guess it'll take a little more investigation to figure out what he wants. [Koby, that's almost definitely not what Hawk meant -- or Louis, for that matter. Still, this is insatiable curiosity: the person talking right now. Of course he wants to find out more firsthand, rather than stay safely out of danger.

He agrees on one part, though, without question:] I do know how Tim is. And I'll warn him, and keep an eye on him. And I won't say anything beyond that. [Much more begrudgingly, but Koby's word is his bond -- he's surprisingly good at keeping secrets, unless there are shots involved.]

Christ, Koby - didn't you see what I said? Stay away, keep your distance - and make sure Tim does too. I don't know enough about this guy yet, but what I have heard from you and Louis and - my other source, it's bad news. I don't want any of you wrapped up in this shit, you got it?

[he feels an awful lot like a dad trying to wrangle unruly children, lately. a headache and a half - all of that on top of his drama with the balfours, and it's no wonder he's looking wearier than usual and missing breakfast or the gym some days, even when he'd rather be grunting and staring at tim from across the room while koby gives them both side eye.]

But - thanks. I'm trying to take your advice, you know. Trusting and all that.

...It's not because I don't trust him, either, you know.

I AM capable of taking care of myself too, Hawk. And I'm careful, I'm not going to do anything stupid. [Well.] I have people I need to keep safe too, you know, and I'd rather it be me interacting than them, if he's really that dangerous. Will you keep me updated, at least? On what else you find out?

[Of course he's noticed; Koby's dedication to attending the gym daily doesn't mean he isn't constantly aware of his surroundings. He's seen Hawk's exhaustion, the withdrawn way he moves. It all adds up in his mind, slowly, bit by bit, adding to his various theories.]

I know that, Hawk. You'd rather put yourself in danger and push him away than see him get hurt. I get it, really. But he's still hurt, you realize. And he should get a choice in what happens, even if you think you know better.

Best way to keep yourself safe is to not interact at all. You really wanna give this guy more ammo?

Of course I will. And of course I realize that too. Christ, I'm glad you get it. I'm not some stand-up guy, Koby. I've always done what I needed to do, even if it hurts the people who don't deserve it. But sometimes it's better than the alternative.

Just - hang tight. On all of it. Okay?

No, but ignorance isn't the answer either. I don't think there's a clear-cut solution this time. And I think you're better than you assume you are. Maybe resigning yourself to being less than that is an excuse. Or maybe you can't help it, I don't know. I know it's hard to turn off. It is for me too. I'm not used to having other people worrying about me or caring if I'm hurt. I don't know how to handle that. I'll try my best. And if I don't see you at breakfast I'm giving you 5 minutes before I go to the library.

There is. You just seem dead-set against it. Don't tell me you have a thing for this guy. You ever heard of a narcissist? Sociopath?

...Well, I'll take it into consideration, alright? That's the best I can do for now. It's not about excuses, I'm just trying to be honest and set expectations.

I'll be there. But just in case: you know what to do.

No? He's nice to me. He's in the library all the time. Maybe I can find out more by talking to him. [Obviously recon is the only motivation here.]

If it's the best you can do, then thank you. I know it doesn't come easy. But you can trust me. I won't let you down.

can i talk to you about something? not a good something. unrelated to this place, too. but this place is so quiet sometimes and i'm gonna lose my mind keeping it in my head.

Any time, doll.

What's going on? Don't worry about being quiet and demure, you let it all out, okay?

( he's so good at knowing the right thing to say. )

a year ago back home. i killed someone. it was self-defense. i'd fucking do it again, too. but this place gets too quiet. hollywood drowned everything out. here it's all inside my head.

[murder. that's a new one. well - maybe not that new. isn't mccarthy responsible for every suicide m-unit hand delivers? aren't there secrets worth killing for? hadn't hawk seen men blown to bits - friends, countrymen, enemies alike, all for some higher purpose? he'd killed more than one man in his time, even if he doesn't like to think back on it. self-defense sounds goddamn angelic in comparison. ]

Listen to me.

You did what you had to do to survive, okay? Now, if you wanna tell me about it, I'm all ears, but that's the bottom line no matter what.

[now that they're operating on that baseline:]

When I got out of the army - my head was all fucked up. A friend of mine stuck me in a cabin up in Delaware until I managed to get my shit together and come out on top.

I'm not going to lie and say it'll be easy, but there's ways around it. The quiet is too loud now, but long enough and with the right guidance, you can get used to it. Welcome it, even.

( it's a story as old as time. war and the hell it brings innocent people. innocent people like hawk. jackson.

fuck. )

i think i'm gonna need help here.

( it's a long moment of collecting her thoughts. typing and retyping things. trying to get it all right in her head. )

my boyfriend wanted to get into the film business. we were gonna make a porn movie, but it was gonna have a story and be artistic. ( sounds fucking stupid in hindsight. )

he got this old couple in the middle of fucking nowhere to rent us out their barn and guest house. we didn't tell them what we was up to, of course. but we all went out there. me, wayne, bobbie-lynne, jackson, lorraine, and rj. jackson was military, too. marine i think. the couple - howard and pearl. they were so old. they were weird but they were old. harmless, right? they killed them. all my friends. they're all dead because two people who could barely get it up to fuck got jealous of us or lots their shit or got off on killing us or whatever other fucking bullshit was going through their crazy ass mother fucking minds that made them do it.

Edited 2024-09-01 23:51 (UTC)

[christ. what a fucking hellhole and a half. hawk waits for the dots to stop wiggling, for the last of maxine's tale of misery. maybe it's not nazis and nicolas from nice getting blown to shit without enough left to even bring home to his new widow, but death is bad enough when it's not active annihilation. the coke, the erratic messages - it makes sense now that she's being haunted by everything she lost. he's no senator smith, but he can try and help in his own way.]

Whatever you need - you just say the word. I'm there.

I get it with the Taj Mahal now. Shit, I can't count how much whiskey I went through up in Delaware.

But you came out on the other side. That couple - they got what they deserved after their sick, twisted bullshit and games. Bet they weren't expecting it from a pretty little thing like you - but you're a fighter, Maxine.

Jackson, Bobbie-Lynne - think about what they'd want now. You think they'd want to see you stop and fall apart in this shitshow?

I'll bet my last dollar they'd want you to keep going. It's never going to stop feeling like surviving, but you've got to let in room to thrive too.

Now, the noise though, that's the first part. You like jazz? Anything else?

( she sits quietly. waiting.

he's not wrong about bobbie-lynne. jackson. wayne. she didn't know lorraine or rj that well to know what they'd think, but the others. jackson was a marine. he fought for them. and bobbie-lynne and wayne enjoyed life so much. they'd not want to see maxine wasting hers.

but that shits easier said than done. it's not just the loss of them. pearl is always there. haunting her. chasing her. she wakes up still feeling that woman's thin, bony fingers over her arm-

back to hawk's messages. )

hawk, i've never listened to jazz a day in my fucking life. ( it's said with no small amount of humor. she understands where the question comes from, but still. jazz. )

i like music. rock's always good. but i love movies. gonna be in movies some day. ( of course there's also the partying and the drugs. )

Well now's as good a time as any to start. Come to the piano bar with me one of these nights. Beats sitting alone in the quiet or the dark. Can smoke in there and everything.

They take requests - bet you could fit in some rock. And if not...

[an acquaintance, he'd normally say, but it feels like he should share something personal too in light of all this.]

Friend of mine - he got this nifty little thing, plays a bunch of different songs. We listened to a few together. You ever heard of Bonnie Tyler?

Yeah, I'll bet you will. Plenty of time to sit and watch whatever everyone else got right and wrong while we're here, though.

hey. i need some advice.

[ more like he needs some help. possibly he needs a lobotomy. ]

i think i'm fucked.

[the dots are all connecting. why does he have a feeling this somehow involves an expensive tie.]

Clearly not the good kind of fucked.

Talk to me.

someone has compromising pictures of me. and it kind of spiraled from there. he knows a lot more now, because i kinda maybe had sex with him. after tying him to the bed and drugging him. it made sense at the time. i didn't plan on fucking him. but now i don't know how to make him keep his mouth shut. he's not normal. i'm worried about ash and greer. i was trying to protect them and i just made things worse.

Compromising pictures of what, exactly?

[jesus christ. has everyone lost their goddamn mind this week?]

It's that Danny kid, isn't it?

[he knew he recognized that tie.]

First things first: did you get the pictures back?
Second - tell Greer and Ash to look out for him. If they're together as often as you think, at least they'll be able to avoid him together.

Last: tell me you were smart enough to make this a give and take. What kind of shit do you have on him that'll give him pause? I don't know that taking your dick is going to cut it. He seems like a loose cannon.

Think.

Edited 2024-09-03 18:21 (UTC)

just of a million little unborn hawk sperm from when you blew your load all over me at the glory holes. makes me think he probably has some nasty shit on you, too. yeah, it's danny. and i don't think he's tied us together, so don't worry. you're not anchored to my sinking ship, asshole.

[ did he get the pictures back? that'd been the plan that he failed spectacularly at, because he decided that putting his dick in danny was somehow supposed to be helpful in getting that done. anyway. ]

ash knows. a of all, don't tell me to think. b of all, i don't have shit on him because he's a goddamn weirdo. he's not like you or me, hawk. the first step of being afraid of losing shit is actually having shit worth losing. on second thought, maybe you can share with the class on what it's like being a goddamn psycho.

[shit. fuck. shit.]

That's not why I fucking asked. I'm trying to help you - and I saw his little PSA. Maybe he hasn't tied us together figuratively, but he has your tie literally. I'll see if I can get it back.

[one less piece of trace evidence.]

Everyone has something to lose. You just don't know what his is yet.

You didn't answer me about the pictures. Is that a no? Why the hell is he - what is he, a voyeur? Bored? Did he ask for anything in return?

you might want to wear gloves when you touch it.

[ stress levels have reached breaking points, aka he must now remain obnoxiously silly. ]

he begged for my cock, which i enthusiastically gave him. we could try reenacting the situation to uncover missing clues and move forward from there. first, i'd have to tie you to the bed. sound good? i think you'd look good like that. great, even.

Duly noted.

And you didn't think, while he was restrained, to go grabbing what it was you needed and leave him there like a fucking nosy nelly getting what he deserved? Christ, Embry. Didn't peg you for amateur hour.

Or are you so desperate to get fucked it's got you all out of sorts? We can fix that too, while we're at it.

you haven't pegged me at all.

[ he did. vaguely think about that. before getting completely obliterated in his thoughts of fucking danny raw. ]

anyway, we clearly weren't in his room. i don't know where he keeps his stash of voyeur porn. i'm telling you, he's not just some average freak looking for shit to jerk off to. there is something fucked up about that kid. my savior. what would i do without you? you know, you'd really miss my asshole if i held out on you.

Now now, that's not entirely true either, is it?

Fine, so you weren't in his room. Amateur hour round 2. The room you were in - why did you pick there? Where's his actual room?

I believe you, Embry. Just - don't fuck with him anymore. Don't engage, tell whoever you have to that they ought to steer clear. I'll see what I can do.

[tim. he's got to warn tim.]

Going once...going twice...

pegging requires the use of a dildo. not the cock attached to your body.

[ he is going to teach you one (1) thing. ]

jesus christ, hawk, i didn't pick the goddamn room. i just followed him there. i don't plan where people go after they get fucked up. drugging people isn't my strong suit.

[ it's the one thing he regrets, his mouth going sour with a familiar taste at the thought of it. ]

i don't know. you just told me not to engage, so do you want me to invite myself over to hang out with him or not? shut up, or you're gonna have to learn how to fuck yourself.

Close enough. I'm not much for fancy toys.

Look, just - it's like I said. Keep your distance. Don't fucking do anything like that again, and don't give him any other ammo. Let me find out what I can, and I'll get your goddamn tie back while I'm at it.

Man's second best friend - that's no fun.

if there's one thing i have a duty to teach you about in this time period, it's fancy toys. hawk, i bound his cock with that tie and he soaked the shit out of it. he's giving major serial killer trophy vibes by wearing it around his wrist where i can see it like a goddamn freak. maybe you should just let him keep it. it's not that bad. steal a dildo from the otherworld, then take a video so i can jerk off to it.

That's what the laundry service is for. I'll wear your glove.

About that.

[there's an attachment of his gift from the library.]

I was gonna toss this thing, but I think I'd rather see you give it a whirl. Interested?

[ oh. right. hawk's a freak, too. birds of a goddamn feather and embry's dick has touched them both. ]

you were gonna TOSS THAT? without fucking anyone with it first? firstly, what the fuck is wrong with you? are you really so arrogant to think that your flesh and blood dick can compete against a 1.5 million dollar platinum dildo? i am interested, asshole

Yes, actually.

Is that what it is? Well, I'll be damned.

Sounds fit for a little prince.

[ oh. errrhgjkhjgklg car horn blaring noises. ]

so? can i come to your room?

Make sure you aren't followed.

[hawk's new room number with an empty adjacent suite is attached.]

i chose you over GOD

[oh here we go.]

I seem to recall you getting the two mixed up on more than one occasion. In bed.

shut up

I can't stand you

I'm here because of you you know

i've been seeing other people

Where are you?

And these other people. You're satisfied with them I take it.

[obviously not. he knows what he's doing.]

nit telling you
not

they're fine.
don't know what I need
always asking questions. what do you want, is this okay, are you comfortable? which is sweet they're good people and I'm safe

but you just know somehow
how do you know

Edited 2024-09-03 23:38 (UTC)

You're my boy. I'm always gonna know.

I know when you need it soft and sweet, on your back 'till you're all riled up and digging your heels in begging me for more.

And I know when you need it fast and rough, so hard you can't even think straight and you don't even feel it coming when I let you finally have it.

That's what happens when you belong to someone, Skippy. You're mine - whether we're together or not.

[there's a pause. he'd stop here, normally. but...]

And I'm yours.

[ He knows. He knows all of it, he's bee thinking about it all day. You see Tim thought, maybe if he drank quickly enough, he would just pass out before he got the urge to get in touch with Hawk, to crawl to wherever he is to pray at the altar between his thighs.

Clearly, that didn't happen. He reads it over three times, heat licking at his gut stronger each time. ]

From the very first time you knew

what about you.
you're not celibate

'Course I knew. I knew it when I saw you across the bar.

Maybe not, but it's not high on my priorities these days.

...If you're asking if anyone else could ever take the place of my boy, the answer is no.

you knew how to fuck me because of the milk

how

why? what's wrong with them

Nobody with any lick of good worldly sense is gonna order milk at a goddamn election, Skippy. I knew you were green as Eisenhower's fresh mowed grass and ripe for the taking.

Nothing's wrong.

It's just - I know every inch of you, inside and out. The way you fit around my cock, the way you smell after a long day out in the sun. The way you sound when I've got you on the edge, begging to tip over.

Nobody can ever replicate that.

I had sense. i didn't want to be drunk. it was a work event
so you wanted me because I was innocent but I'm not anymore
is that why you're not here

you could know all of that after being with someone just a couple times

Uh huh. So you order a beer and you sip it like everyone else. At least a shirley temple or a coke.

It wasn't about the innocence, Skip. It was how genuine you are. Can't tell a lie to save your life, and you still can't. You're a good boy - inside and out. Not just because of how good you take me and how eager you are, but because you wanna do something decent with your life.

So no, it's not the same. It's not why I'm not there.

I miss every fucking minute I'm not with you, and you got me here saying it to you plain.

I don't like coke

and if I were good I wouldn't be texting you in the middle of the night

you keep saying that.

Water?

Nah, that's not it. If I were good, you wouldn't be texting me in the middle of the night. You'd be sitting pretty on my lap or curled up next to me.

Keep hoping you'll believe it soon.

theres nothing wrong with milk its not weird to drink milk

but you are horrible so im with other people
if you missed me you would want me back

Nothing wrong at all. I love when you drink milk.

Especially the all-natural kind that doesn't come out of a bottle.

Yeah, I know honey.

...Do you honestly think I don't want you back, Skippy? Thought my boy was smarter than that. Seems like he's having a hard time listening these days, though.

What should be done about that?

that was a stretch

it's been a month. you haven't come after me. im only barely hiding. can't hear you from so far away

If I come to you right now - you gonna let me in?

i dont know

[no response. not in writing anyway.

knock knock, skippy.]

[ Well, that was a mistake. After about five minutes without a response, he starts to panic, stumbles to the bathroom to splash some water on his face to try to sober up, but it's no help, Tim is in Hell, awaiting with dread and excitement the same familiar, specific knock he used to wait for while he paced his studio apartment in Washington.

And there it is. He presses his forehead to the door and says a prayer before he opens it. ]

We're not having sex.

[his hands lift as in surrender, brows raising comically at the lack of greeting and the dogged insistence. what are they going to do?]

We're not having sex, got it. Loud and clear.

[hawk glances behind tim, towards the rest of the room that he knows is koby's.]

May I come in? We are alone, aren't we?

[ Well for now, Tim's gonna stare at him. He's visibly drunk, wobbly on his feet and squinting at him, glasses long left on the table at the bedside. He's...magnetically handsome, like he always is, while Tim is unshaven and ruffled and pink in the face from the bottle of wine he's finished. ]

Yeah, he's at Quentin's.

[ It looks like he's made himself at home here, things Hawk would recognize as his from their cohabitation casually littered around. Not messily, he's never messy, but comfortably. ]

Sit with me?

[ He'll be flopping down on the bed regardless. ]

[as long as he doesn't look at the way this place looks just as lived in as their suite, he'll be able to keep the endeared smile on his lips - to watch the flush on tim's face and the stubble he aches to rub his chin against. his gaze drops to watch every inch of tim from behind - fixing a little too long on his thighs and the ass he absolutely misses as it wobbles slightly before settling against the bed, leaving him standing there and looking downward at his boy.]

Yeah. 'Course.

[carefully he situates himself down, thigh brushing against tim's as he angles his body to turn his torso and face him directly.]

No sex.

[a low repetition of it, mildly amused as he reaches up to graze a thumb against the roughness on his chin.]

What about a kiss?

[ He hasn't been this close to Hawk since their fight, a month ago. It feels good having his warm, fond gaze on him again, keeping him safe with his presence and his own hands instead of vague promises. It feels terrible, knowing that it's temporary, that he's wrong and he's weak to let him get this close again. Weak and warm from the alcohol in his system, heightening all those feelings, good and bad.

Tim leans into him, not for a kiss, but into the touch as a dog would for another scratch. ]

Mmmiss you too.

[ Drawn out, not in a state where words are his strong suit. ]

Miss our room.

[ Not answering the question. ]

[he's not about to push his luck, not yet - not wanting to take advantage even if he can feel the tension between them like it's about to burst, a dam of all the sleepless nights and yearning with no understanding for what resolution looks like.]

Yeah honey. I miss it every day. Morning, noon, and night.

[his thumb skirts along tim's jaw, nail lightly running against the stubble that's a new and not at all unwelcome addition. there's a heavy exhale, hawk leaning forward to press their foreheads together.]

You remember - what I was doing for Senator Smith?

[his voice is low, as tentative as hawk ever gets, because he's fucking terrified tim will latch onto this like a dog with a bone and keep chasing the answer.]

It's like that now with the Balfours. That's why I gotta keep my distance for now. Can't let you get wrapped up in this.

Edited 2024-09-08 16:43 (UTC)

[ There's so much to push back on, that he might have if he weren't drunk. Hawk shouldn't be calling him honey anymore, he should just be with him if he misses him so damn much instead of putting him through this, a purgatory within a purgatory where he so desperately wants to be through with him while knowing in his heart that he never will be. But if Tim were in the combative mood to really let him have it, he wouldn't have let him in, he wouldn't be seeking the comfort of his head in Hawk's hands or wishing that he'd stay. ]

I'm sorry. [ Closing his eyes in some sort of relief with the press of their foreheads together, breathing through his nose so Hawk doesn't comment on the booze on his breath. As if it isn't exceedingly obvious. ] About Senator Smith. I shouldn't have told you like that.

[yeah, it's obvious. but he's not gonna say a damn word, knowing there's a chance he might knock tim out of it and get his ass kicked out prematurely. it's not even about sex or kisses anymore, which should be surprising to him. but can it really, when it's always been about more than that? it's about the intimacy and the trust he has here with another man - feelings he's refused to let himself have since kenny. it's why his lips brush tenderly against tim's temple instead of seeking out his mouth, not wanting to silence him or truly take advantage even though he doesn't think his lover would see it that way. not entirely, anyway.]

You don't have to apologize for that. There was never going to be a good time for it.

[there's a pause, realization sinking in that he hasn't really let himself have the opportunity to grieve over it yet, too wrapped up in everything else. if his arm slides down to drag tim a little closer and squeeze around his shoulders - it doesn't mean anything.]

I just wish I knew - what happened. Why. We were going to fix it all, we were gonna win.

[it sounds naive the moment it's fully articulated, a rare moment in which he wishes he could take it back.]

I do. I should have said something sooner. Didn’t wanna ruin it when we were happy, but at least then, I could have...

[ Could have been with him like this as he processed it? Hawk could be the one coping with too much to drink and Tim could be the one diligently at his side anyway, navigating through all his contradictions to offer him the tenderness he needs in a weak moment. Maybe that would have changed things, if he’d had the chance to prove that he can be a safe haven instead of another responsibility. How horribly selfish of him to even think, about someone else’s grief.

Tim matches the embrace, latching his arms around him tight. Hawk might wish he could take those words back, but he finds them endearing. A scrap of evidence that the one he loves isn’t all cynicism and disbelief, deep down somewhere lies a little morsel of faith. He pulls back just enough to look Hawk in the eye – beautiful, bright blue that makes his heart flutter, trying to ignore that – and cup his jaw gently, show him some sweetness before he breaks him a little more. ]

The papers said it was self-inflicted. In his office. [ Quietly, as if any more volume might add to the weight, make it unbearable. ] I don’t know why. A lot of rumors went around, but I don’t like that kind of gossip.

Edited 2024-09-10 15:14 (UTC)

Nah - it's alright honey. You didn't wanna ruin it.

[instead hawk took it upon himself to do it. and the reality is: he'd do it again, no matter how much it's tearing him up inside to know he's hurting tim. hurting them both with the distance and the secrecy for a whole other set of powerful people, and this time he doesn't even know the end goal of the game, only that having favor here is surely better than not.

but that all melts away when tim lets him have this: a tight embrace, the intimacy he's craved and lacked for weeks now offered to him even amongst a somber backdrop of loss. he wishes they could stay like this forever, hawk dipping his chin against the space that always feels made for him at the juncture of tim's muscled shoulders and neck where he can inhale deeply and drink in everything that is his boy. but it can't last forever, and his eyes are already glassy when tim looks at him, jaw trembling for the briefest of moments at the tenderness he's offered before the revelation.

what does he even say? why? wesley smith - senator, mentor, father - he'd never have done this without reason. he must've been pushed into a corner. mccarthy and cohn getting away with goddamn murder, or maybe it was - lenny? frank was gonna come through, gonna get him the original arrest record, and then they'd be free and clear to tell senator bridges and welker to fuck off and shove their attempted blackmail up their asses without proof. is it his fault senator smith had to resort to this? his own voice sounds small, hand gripping at tim's wrist for something to latch onto as emotion threatens to overwhelm his normal stoicism.]

I couldn't stop it. He wouldn't, not unless he had no other choice.

I must have...failed him. Christ.

[ Lets him have it, as if he hasn't been itching to be wrapped up in his arms again since the moment he left. Tim wouldn't have contacted him tonight in the first place if he wasn't so furious over how much he still needs it and the broken promise of I'm yours, which means this is his, he gets to hold Hawk against his neck and stroke the back of his head and not feel rotten about it. At least until reality sets in.

It doesn't take long. The look on Hawk's face, a rare moment of vulnerability, shatters him so that his own lip wobbles in response, before he tucks it into his mouth, sniffing and shaking his head. ]

Hawk, no. [ Squeezing his hand, stroking his hair back with the other. It's tender, but firm. Assured. ] He made his choice on his own. It had nothing to do with you. He was gonna let you marry his only daughter, he loved you. This isn't your fault.

[there's no response for a minute, hawk burying his face against tim once more and refusing to look up as he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to keep the glassiness threatening to spill over from turning into actual tears. his teeth are practically grinding against themselves, chin shaking with the restraint of it as he clutches tim impossibly tighter. it's not out of selfishness anymore, not of stealing these moments for the aching need in his chest to be with the man he wants when he's the reason for the imposed distance. this is a real need - not to shake apart right now with the realization that this could be his fault. that senator smith did the only thing he had left to save them all, a good man until the end.

where'd it leave lucy? lenny? what about - the senate? there's so many questions, and he can't articulate a single goddamn one right now. tim's hand is sweet, voice fond even though he doesn't feel like he deserves one bit of it.]

What if it's...because I was here?

[the thought strikes him suddenly, as he lifts a hand to subtly try and brush over his eyes and swallow thickly through the lump in his throat.]

When did you see me last? What about - after?

No...no. Hey, look at me.

[ He knows Hawk won’t want to, that he won’t want him to see the same vulnerability that he can hear in his voice, that he can feel in the tremble of his chin against his shoulder. Tim will allow him the dignity of not pointing it out, but he separates enough to look him in the eye, because Hawk needs to see him, sobered up and sure. The conflicting, confusing feelings, the heartache and the yearning, it’s all gone right now, irrelevant in the face of Hawk’s grief. In this moment, it’s all that matters, and Tim knows what he’s saying is true. ]

I saw you just a few hours before I woke up here, remember? I told you, we were saying goodbye before I left for Fort Dix. This was after he died, after the funeral. You were back home the whole time, it had nothing to do with this place.

[ Tim holds his head with both hands, keeping Hawk focused on him, praying that he can offer some comfort to him, no matter how small. ]

I understand the impulse to blame yourself, I do. [ Not for something this profoundly terrible, but he’s spent a lifetime catastrophizing about sending himself straight to Hell for other things, big and small and ugly and beautiful, the man in front of him perhaps chief among them. If he damns himself over Hawk, that’ll still be his choice to do so, not Hawk’s. ] So you can trust me. I know what I’m talking about. It was not your fault. You understand me?

[ Raising himself on his knees just a little, Tim presses a kiss to his forehead and starts fluffing up pillows, similar fussy nesting habits as when he was taking care of Hawk after the wolf attack. ]

I’m gonna tell Koby to give us some space, okay? [ Stay the night. ] Get comfortable.

[tim wouldn't lie to him about this. tim told him once before - about their goodbye, about fort dix and the army he never made it to. his relief had been palpable for different reasons then: not having to see his boy torn apart by the cruelties of war, wondering if it would harden and misshape him as much mentally as it may physically. but now he can lean on it for the reassurance, however mild, that it's all true. post-funeral, which he surely attended. lucy still on his arm, willing to stay engaged with him - that wouldn't have happened if this was somehow his fault, would it?

hawk exhales in a rush, eyes squeezing shut as tim pulls him in again. he can't help but clutch around him, breathing him in and letting some of the wetness gathering in the corners slip free in the safety of his lover's arms, in this space where it feels sometimes like no one can hurt them in their freedom to just be. there's a nuzzle against his shoulder, hawk nodding weakly in agreement to all of it. he understands it wasn't his fault. he can trust tim, always, implicitly. and maybe it's the crux of their issue now, but it's not because of a lack of it rather than his own stubbornness trying to protect him from getting dragged into this mess.

there's a soft sniff, hawk trying to clear the congestion in his nose and throat from the well of emotion as he feels soft lips against his temple, eyes opening with a watery smile.]

You're sure?

[you'd do that for me, despite everything? that's what he can't bring himself to ask, because he already knows the answer. his fingers slip to tim's wrist, thumb running lightly across his pulsepoint with an affection reflected in his gaze as he shuffles back up and onto the bed. there's only a moment more of hesitation, teeth biting down on his front lip before he asks in a raw voice:]

...Did he leave anything behind? A letter, instructions, explanation?

There were things - we were working on. I was taking care of.

[hawk lets himself lay back, shifting to the side to leave room for tim to crawl in implicitly the way they used to weeks before.]

[ It's a warped, awful version of what they had before. Holding each other in grief instead of joy, in Koby's room instead of his, dotted with tears instead of kisses. Either way, it's out of love, but the kind that fills him with dread, makes him fear what would happen if he weren't there to hold his head above the water. Tim holds him right there against his shoulder, noting the tiny specks of moisture against it that Hawk tries to blink away, running his hand through Hawk's hair until he settles. When he speaks again, it's with a sniff of his own, moved by Hawk's display of emotion into his own. ]

I'm sure.

[ Tim brings Hawk's hand to his mouth to press a tiny kiss onto a fingertip, and then he stands. He'll crawl in beside him soon, after flitting around for a moment to make sure Hawk is as comfortable as possible without leaving his side for more than a moment. A sweater from Tim's dresser, a trip to the bathroom to fill him a glass of water. Doting, worrying, bittersweet fondness in his eyes as he sits at the foot of the bed, untying Hawk's shoes for him and setting them down carefully by the footboard. ]

...I'm sorry, I don't know. That kind of information wasn't made public, and you and I weren't speaking. There must have been at least a letter, nobody ever suspected anyone but Smith himself.

[ Shoes off, good enough. Now he settles in beside him, one arm under his head and the other curled around Hawk's middle. ]

[what would he be doing if he weren't here right now, if tim hadn't welcomed him with open arms? probably shoved it down, drank half a bottle and stumbled into his own lonely bed. it's no small mercy the way tim makes it look so easy to care for him now, lips pressing against his fingertip and flitting around the room to get him water, clothes, to bend down and make him comfortable by half undressing him. it's muscle memory to roll onto his side, sliding down and pressing his face against the top of tim's chest so he can bury himself there like it's his favorite pillow. there's a soft noise of contentment, arms clutching around his middle and eyes squeezing shut for a moment just to relish it - knowing deep down this is what he's been missing, what he'll keep missing if he refuses to let tim in.

but the thought of losing him the way he's lost senator smith is equally terrifying, enough for his eyes to flutter open again and fingers to flex against his sides.]

It's alright. What you told me - it's enough. I can guess.

[he should leave it at that, keep himself awake as long as possible so he can prolong this stolen moment of bliss. but - ]

Thank you, Skippy.

[not just for the details, the reassurance. but for the physical too: inviting him in, letting him be here. holding him, keeping him safe and placated and putting aside the hurt even if he doesn't deserve it. his voice lowers into a pained murmur, almost a whisper as his lips drag absently against the seam between his pectorals.]

I - miss you somethin' terrible. Every day. I'm sorry.

[ Through toil and trouble, heartbreak and anger, there's still no world where he doesn't care for Hawk through his grief. The love will always be there, for the rest of his life, he's sure, and even if it's strained right now, Tim will always have a shoulder for him to lean on. If only Hawk could find it in him to actually use it, before something as dramatic as the death of someone close smacked some emotion into him.

He sighs, stroking the back of Hawk's head, pressing his nose to the crown and breathing him in. Cigarette smoke, the soft musk of the end of the day. It makes his eyes feel heavy, a Pavlovian response telling him to settle, to curl up and sleep in the safety of Hawk's arms. Tomorrow, he'll tell himself it's the wine he drank before texting him. It'll be a lie. ]

...I miss you too. And I think you know that.

[ Tim doesn't know how he can make it any clearer what he needs from him, and he keeps insisting that he can't give it. Are they not at an impasse, then? Hawk says that he's sorry, but nothing changes. It's not the time to call him out on it. ]

We don't have to talk about that right now. I'll be here all night. Get some sleep, okay?

You left things in the room. We should arrange a time for you to come get them.

I don’t need ‘em right now.

Besides, I -

[a pause, a soft exhale.]

I wasn’t planning on being gone forever.

I can't move back in until you get them.

What? I didn’t think they were taking up that much space.

I was hoping we could…you know.

Both move back. When we’re ready.

It's not about the space.

[ Tim sighs, and drags his hand down his face. Nope, not doing this right now. ]

I'm not staying at Koby's until you figure yourself out, I'll die in there. But I don't want to argue in circles with you again. Can you please just get your stuff tomorrow? There's some clothes and books, and a hat. I threw out the cigarettes already.

Edited 2024-09-11 03:13 (UTC)

Can’t you just - put them in the other room? It’s still empty, isn’t it?

[god help hawk if it’s not.]

Deal with your own dirty socks, why should I have to?

[ Of course the other room is empty. He's not answering to be a brat. ]

Fine. I’ll come by tomorrow. But it’s staying in the other room.

Anything else?

No, I said take them, not move them next door. I don't want to know where your stuff is.

…Why does that matter? It’s not bothering you. It’s not in your room.

I will be back.

It is bothering me, or I wouldn't have called.

Hawk, I...I'm sorry, if I gave you the wrong idea the other night. I was drunk. I wasn't thinking clearly. I don't want you to come back.

[ A lie, and a bold one, but the truth is sadder. Tim doesn't actually believe he'll be back, at least not for good. It's stupid to want, and it's stupid to wait. ]

[there’s silence on the other end, hawk’s chest aching even as he wants to accuse tim of a bluff. what if it’s not?]

So that’s it then. The end of - us.

I...

[ Yes. That's what he's supposed to say, that it's been over, that it was Hawk's decision, not his, and all his attempts to string Tim along since then, that he'll be back at some nebulous 'eventually', are just selfishness. It should be easy.

But he hesitates, worrying at his bottom lip. ]

I told you, the night you left, that if you leave, you can't come back. You abandoned me anyway, in this horror show. How am I ever supposed to trust you again?

[ An out instead, the tiniest offering on the tiniest platter. Convince me. ]

Edited 2024-09-11 04:27 (UTC)

I can't abandon you, Skippy. I'm trying to keep you at arms length to keep you safe, and I keep coming back anyway.

Don't you get it -

[there's a harsh exhale, a noise like he's gripped too hard on the phone with a crackle of movement. the emotion is raw in his voice, wanting nothing more than to prove he'll be back. that they can weather this storm like any other.]

I can't stay away. Can't let you get hurt, but I can't...christ - [there's a choked laugh, frustration bubbling up and a muffled noise like he run his hand over his face -]

I'm only human. I'm never gonna stop wanting you. I saw what a life without you looks like, and it was worse than anything I'm dealing with now.

There's no magic bullet, no answer I can give you that'll make you trust me overnight. I know that. But I'm still gonna try, until you tell me no forever.

...Why'd you call about the socks, huh?

Stop saying that. The vampires and werewolves could come rip me apart right now and it wouldn’t hurt me as much as you have.

[ It’s bitter, but there’s a tremble in his jaw, a warbling in the breath he takes after he spits it out that wouldn’t be there if it were bitterness alone. What safer place could there be than next to Hawk? Every other day he finds out something new and disturbing about this place or its inhabitants, and he has no one to turn to. Koby and Quentin have tried, but he knows he’s a third wheel there, and there’s an ugly, screeching part of him that can’t watch them fall deeper and deeper in love by the minute while his insists that the best way for him to show it is to not be with him at all.

Tim closes his eyes, and he can see himself caving completely, if they were having this same conversation face to face. Hawk would run his hand through his hair, catch his eyes and look right through him, find the secrets hidden in the wrinkles of his brain that even Tim doesn’t know half the time, pull them out without even trying. He’d know that Tim still needs him, and he won’t have a bottle of wine to blame this time. He swallows, rough. ]

I need you to tell me when. If you can do that, then I can...I can think about it. But you can’t ask me to hold the door open with no end in sight.

...It’s not about the socks. It’s about having little reminders of you sitting all over the place.

[that's what i'm trying to keep from happening, is on the tip of his tongue, ready to be shouted or insisted even if it feels like he's talking to a goddamn brick wall when it comes to this.

but if it's hurting tim worse than the alternative, is it even worth it anymore? he's bone tired, hardly sleeping a wink in the days leading up to the full moons, poring over lore and fiction alike for some silver bullet he's missed to end the werewolf problem on the estate. it's not just for the balfours, it's so he can get back to tim, so everyone can be safe. but his discretion was one of his best strengths here, and he's not quick to lose the trust it's afforded him - just like he would if it were lucy or senator smith. even lenny...he'd done it to spare him the public humiliation and the indignity of exposure.

he's quiet a moment, thinking it over.]

Three more weeks.

[one more moon cycle.]

That's all I'll ask. And I know it's - a lot, to ask of you. Same as if I told you to leave the socks because I want you to think of me like I think about you.

...three more weeks.

[ It's the closest thing he's gotten to any real explanation since this whole mess started. Such a tiny scrap that he wants to press for more, like what, exactly, is so significant about the three week mark, or whether something is about to happen that he should be worried about. Tim can't trust him with his heart just yet, but he does know that he'd be warned if he were in immediate danger. The overreaction about Danny is proof enough of that.

So he bites his tongue. ]

And then what?

Three weeks, and then...

[and then he'll let him in. he'll give it a fair chance. he'll try.]

If your lock's still broken, I'm coming home.

And I'm gonna spend the rest of our time here - no matter how long or short - trying to make it up to you.

It'll take more than playing house for a few weeks.

I know that, Skip.

Whatever it takes.

Not just words, Hawk. Action.

[ He shouldn't believe it. He wants to, desperately, but a timeline isn't enough to make the fear go away, that in a few months he'll be right back here again, yearning for someone who drops him when he becomes burdensome. ]

I need a partner. Not a knight.

[ Blame the word choice on Alicent. ]

Actions. Trust me - I get it. I know what I need to do. For once, it's what I want to do too.

[but he's not going to spoil it by spelling it out. it wouldn't mean anything anyway.]

I'll save the roleplay for - another time.

Edited 2024-09-17 02:08 (UTC)

...okay. I'll think about it, then.

...Thank you.

Hawk, it has been some time since we spoke. Are you keeping well?

[ between all the breakups and vampires… ]

Ah, Christ Alicent. Your Highness - it's been awhile. Feels like a lifetime ago, if I'm honest.

Hanging in there.

How've you been? Haven't seen you since...well, my living arrangements were different.

In truth, it has been a most tumultuous time.

[ the ease of hawk and tim’s company seems an age ago. their warmth, their kindness so far from the war she now fights to avoid. ]

I’m glad you’re well, truly. Tim shared your warning with me, the night of the feast, and I’ll not forget it.

Yeah, I'd imagine. Especially having a child of yours running around here, no matter how old they are now.

[it's ironic that their living arrangements are technically the same again. they were together, they broke up, they're back. sort of.]

Ah, well it was the least I could do. It wasn't all bad from what I heard, but I think we've had enough excitement around here to last a lifetime.

He's quite fond of you, you know.

He is as troublesome at eight and ten as he was at nine.

[ as for the rest — ]

And I of him. I hope you will treat him kindly, as you return to each other.

Circumstances aren't ideal, but...is it a relief? To see him?

That's the plan.

[there's two sides to every story, and it's not indignation or pettiness that has him tacking it on, but alicent's respect isn't something he wants to lose.]

Look, I wouldn't dream of getting between the confidence of a knight and his lady, but...I didn't leave him because I wanted to hurt him. I was trying to protect him, and the easiest way was to keep him away.

It is. I would rather have him here despite the risks, than leave him to face an oncoming war without my guidance.

[ she pauses, considering how to respond. she values hawk’s opinions and skills, especially now that she might have need of his counsel — but she has been in tim’s role more often than not, protected against her will until it was too late. we would not sully you with darkling schemes, your grace, so she fumbled through the quagmire, alone. ]

Your instinct to protect is commendable.
But as someone who has been set aside for the same reasons, I will say to you what I said to them: I never wished to be spared. And if you ignore the desires of those you wish to protect, who are you serving?

[ yourself. ]

Edited 2024-10-01 00:36 (UTC)

It's funny, Tim told me time passes differently even when we're away. I was still there somehow, even after my memories of home end. Maybe he wouldn't have been alone after all. Aemond, isn't it?

[it's not difficult to imagine there's more to alicent being left out. of course a lady of her stature shouldn't be getting her hands dirty - that's what the knights and courtiers and counsellors must be for. it's the same thing he did for senator smith, and that's one thing he knows he wouldn't change.]

I'd rather he resent me than wind up in the crossfire. It's not an easy decision.

But I am trying.

Keeping you on the sidelines seems like a real waste. They ever realize their mistakes?

I hope that is true for us all, then, for the sake of my other children.

[ in the matter of tim, well, trying will hardly be enough, when this place will continue to divide them. aiding it in this aim will not serve. ]

Very well. You make a fine match, when you allow it. I only ask you do not forget that injuries to the heart are not healed so easily as those of the flesh.

[ tim is strong enough to weather all, but — she would not wish him suffer another heartbreak. a wound re-opened again and again will eventually fail to close. ]

My lot is shared by many women. Men do not see me as the queen but as mother, maiden, daughter, wife. We will see if they can learn the truth of me in time.

How many others do you have to keep track of? Can't imagine it gets easier as they get older. If anything...well.

[well he doesn't have kids himself, but he had the strange gift, or curse, of speed-dreaming through the death of one courtesy of the house.]

My experience is nowhere near the same, but this place gave me a look at what it might be like if I didn't get my shit together. Raising one and then having to worry about losing them...must be like moving through the world without a limb.

Thanks. I'd like to think so too, even if it isn't easy. And I don't want that for him either, by the way - trust me. Consider it a work in progress.

Doesn't get much better where I'm from, either. There's a few smart men who know their wives are smarter, but nowhere near enough. And somehow they've all decided to congregate in the goddamn government.

[ she’s not fully satisfied with his answers in the matter of tim, but they’re a start. ]

Then I am glad for you both.

[ hawk can’t know how close he hews to a gaping wound. one of her sons will die and has informed her thusly. another lies abed, the stranger hovering over his ruined body. she has lost a husband and grandson already.

she will not stop losing until there is no one left to mourn. ]

Three. Aegon is my eldest, Helaena after him, and then Daeron is my youngest.

There are others of my husband’s line here now, but none who would protect me or mine. Indeed, my goodbrother Daemon took my grandson from this world mere days before I arrived, and now he breaks fast at the Balfours table.

[christ, and he thought his family matters were complicated. none of this seems like it bodes particularly well though for the state of the manor.]

Daemon. Haven't seen him around. Yet.

He killed your grandson? On what motive?

Listen - if they're here, it sounds like you and yours are going to need some extra protection, or some mediating. If ever there was a place to let sleeping dogs lie, it's here. But that's easier said than done, especially with someone new in the mix who hasn't been through the shit we have.

...Pardon my French, Your Highness. You get what I mean.

My son took his wife’s boy from this world, and long before that, her boy took mine’s eye. Accidents all, until Daemon enacted his revenge.

[ an eye for an eye, a son for a son. she does not believe aemond meant to kill rhaenyra’s boy when their dragons met above the storm. she does believe daemon intended to steal one of her children as recompense and seized upon a babe in his cradle instead. ]

I do, Hawk. I have agreed a truce with Daemon’s wife, my childhood companion the princess Rhaenyra, who is the rival claimant for my son’s throne. I do not wish for any here to be drawn into another land’s war and have sworn my son to peace thusly.

With our numbers as they are, however, they would be fools not to consider a strike. I would be glad to count you as my ally, if only to deter any violence.

Christ, and I thought my family had issues.

[there's no surprise that she's been hard at work securing truces in all this time. frankly, he'd expect nothing less from a queen and an intelligent one at that with such a complicated history. but he refrains from the usual compliments, not wanting them to ring insincere or trifling.]

Look - you've been good to Tim. And me, all things considered. Consider me on your side whenever the next shitshow rolls around. As for the rest - I'll count them as neutral until you decide otherwise.

Thank you, Hawk. Know that my son and I will help you in whatever way we can, just the same.

You and Tim have both been good to me.

Am I your sugar baby?

[jesus fucking christ.]

Not the first time I've called you my baby.

And you're practically as sweet as sugar.

Sugar. Baby. You want me to use it, or...?

[he knows exactly what it means.]

No, I don't. It's transactional.

You really think I'd pay you for sex, Skippy? That'd be an insult to both of us.

Spoiling you, on the other hand - that comes pretty naturally.

Well, no. But I was talking to someone on the network. He said that's part of it. Paying for everything, gifts, little getaways, stuff like that.

This was stupid. Sorry. I know it's a lot more than that, between us. It just threw me off, I've never heard that before.

You've got to stop engaging these people, Tim. Christ.

They're not wrong but it's...it's not the same. There's no real affection there, definitely not both ways.

You let me try "Daddy" on once for size. You wanna give "sugar" a go?

Just for fun.

It wasn't an offer, to be clear. He said he does it back home for money. I said that sounds sad.

I'm still getting used to honey. 🙂 But I think in the heat of the moment, you could call me just about anything, and I'd like it.

Little bit. Sometimes they got no other choice - that's the problem.

Well, I got plenty saved up where that came from.

Only the heat of the moment, though?

Edited 2024-10-03 22:57 (UTC)

He said a studio apartment costs him two THOUSAND dollars every month. have you seen anything about a complete economic collapse in Canada?

...maybe. I guess it depends on what it is. Try me.

A studio. You sure he wasn't pulling your leg? And here I thought inflation got outta hand under Truman. Jesus.

I already know you like sweetheart too.

What about doll?

It's a pretty elaborate lie about having sex for money if he were just teasing.

Sounds a little feminine.

How about "sunshine"?

I gotta admit - I'm still pretty partial to "angel".

Sunshine is kind of cute.

I like angel too, even if I think it's too generous. 😇

Nah, it's just right.

...Tiger? Stud?

Those ones suit you better.

Well, no complaints here. I think I like being your man more than anything, though.

My man, handsome, daddy. Any more requests?

...Yours.

More of a state of being than a pet name.

"Good morning, mine, what do you want for breakfast?"

Doesn't flow.

Fine, semantics.

It's the state of being I'd like, though.

I have an idea of how you can earn it.

I'm all ears.

I want to go out tonight. Dancing.

Dancing.

Are we talking the kind that belongs in Underworld, or something a little more moonlit?

I'll let you choose.

I've never been to the club downstairs with a date, though. Someone to keep me in line.

Get your dancing shoes on and wait for me in your room after dinner.

Sure thing, Daddy.

[sure thing, daddy.

it burns in his gut all night, sitting across from him at dinner, knowing he's gonna take his boy out dancing later. maybe the otherworld doesn't have the guaranteed safety of a place like the cozy corner, but it's not for everyone...and honestly? he doesn't have it in him to keep denying himself from the things he wants out of this opportunity anymore. months away from the man he loves has made him either lax or opened his goddamn eyes, but almost losing him to the possibility of someone else scooping him away maybe even moreso.

tim opening the door in only his dancing shoes wasn't quite on the agenda, but there's no way in hell hawk would ever let such a treat go wasted. so what if they're an hour later than he'd planned after dinner - the fun probably doesn't even get started until ten or after anyway, as if he'd really care about keeping track. but after he's coiffed back his hair into something respectable and tucked himself back into the confines of his tighter, more modern cut black jeans, he spares a glance in the mirror. there's just the barest glean of sweat at his temple, indicative of the exertion it had taken to pound himself into tim and leave him the parting gift of claiming his inside. a black...t-shirt, in lieu of a button down, and a slim-cut black blazer. the line it cuts on his figure is sleek, even if he isn't used to having it so close to his body. and tim liked tearing it off, if that's anything to go by.

his hand wanders occasionally to the small of tim's back as they walk through the hallways, greeting the doorman staffed there today, apparently giving giles the night off. and then it's inside the thrum of bass and bodies twined together - some pg, some decidedly x-rated. it's not his scene, but tim wants to be seen. there's a tightness in his gut, the lingering idea of constantly having to pretend otherwise, and he forces himself to try and dispel it.

his hand slides firmer over tim's waist, leaning in to try and shout against the music against the shell of his ear with a wash of warm breath.]

Well? You want a drink first? Can't promise you I won't have two left feet to this kind of music.

[ So much for taking it slow this time. But he couldn't resist the opportunity to be cheeky, or show Hawk how much he appreciates his willingness to do this with him. If it also happens to be true that every moment Tim's hands aren't all over him is an agonizing waste of time, then...well, everyone wins. Maybe he doesn't need to be as cautious as he thought he did. Since he's been back, Hawk's been more communicative, more understanding, more willing to take advantage of the freedoms of this place. They're going on a date, a real one, where they don't have to pretend they're only colleagues or pass Tim off as a nephew to be seen together.

Such a simple thing, but to finally have it after more than two years of back and forth with him, it feels like a revelation. A date, and an obvious one, with Hawk, the man he's been in love with from the first moment he touched him. Tim's too giddy to think too hard about getting ready, leaving his fingered-through, fluffed up sex hair mostly as-is while Hawk combs his back into place, and whatever mess between his thighs that escaped his lewd show of licking it from his fingers will just have to dry there, or keep him loose for when they get back.

He does go for a button-down, but sleeker and softer than the usual ones appropriate for daytime, a bronze-gold shift to the fabric when it catches the light. Tim's got it unbuttoned enough to show both the hair on his chest and a fresh love bite just under his collarbone, and dress pants he's been assured his ass looks great in (thanks Koby). And of course, a pair of smart shoes, the indents of which are likely still pressed into the backs of Hawk's thighs. Showing enough to enrage him if he hadn't been the one to suck the mark there there, or if the occasion didn't mark Tim so obviously as his.

Tim smiles ear to ear the entire walk there. ]

Yeah, let's get a drink.

[ He orders something fruity, with tequila, since Hawk was so enamored with that flavor of drunk last time. ]

It's not really about the music. [ He'd have asked to go to the piano bar if they were here for that. ] The thumping, I think it...dulls the senses? So you can only concentrate on the person you're with.

[ That's why he's made so many bad decisions down here. Definitely that. ]

Edited 2024-10-05 05:40 (UTC)

What befell Embry?

[ no preamble, uncharacteristic of the queen. ]

I ask you because of our friendship to date — and because he was dear to me.

He was - important to me too. I need to you to understand that.

And I need you to promise me: everything I tell you is in complete confidence. I can't have this turning into a witch hunt, okay?

I do.

You have my word, Hawk. I will be with you in this.

[ ash’s words echo in her mind already. debased, in the chapel. ]

I went to the chapel early - morning of October 2nd. Wanted to try and surprise Tim before morning mass. Thank Christ I did - or he would have seen...that this wasn't an accident.

Embry was murdered, Alicent.

I called Ash because he deserved to know. But I didn't want Greer to see him like that.

The Balfours took his body, and I've been managing the rest.

[ she knows it before hawk admits the truth. her stomach roils. ]

You would include an investigation into his death as part of “the rest” then.

[ which she will query shortly, but first — ]

I’m sorry, Hawk.

[ she found her husband, cold, and saw jaehaerys bathed in blood. these things do not leave the mind. ]

You know I would.

[not posed as a question, notably, but yeah. he's not letting this one lie.]

I won't lie to you - Embry had enemies here. I have my theory, but I don't have all the facts or the hard proof yet. But I'm not giving up until I do.

...As far as I can tell, this was revenge gone too far.

[he hadn't realized alicent was close with embry, to be honest. the two most important men to him here, it's fitting she slots neatly in between them all.]

I'm sorry too. He was - there won't be anyone else like him.

Tim's going to be all over you until this is settled.

[ revenge, she understands, but for embry’s own actions — or something to do with ash? ]

Then I will trust you in this, for all you’ve done for me and mine already.

If I or my son can assist, I implore you to call on us. Oft women are told more than men, when they ask, and he is a fine warrior, with or without a weapon.

I will keep near you both. In times such as this, we would be wise to close our ranks, regardless.

[ guarding against the enemies within and without.]

He was worthy of our love and remains worthy of our justice.

[ At the end of a long day, after his vote has been cast, and the last-ditch efforts have been made, and the shouting has finally stopped, Tim collapses into bed with Hawk, head tucked under his chin. This is usually the position that makes him settle into sleep like no other. But his mind races. It hasn’t stopped for days, and he’s grateful for it, something to focus on other than the hellfire licking at his neck. ]

The ship’s sailed on avoiding a mass panic, so we might as well run with it. We can back up the Danny allegation next round. And we should.

[to say he's exhausted is an understatement. drained, physically and mentally to the bone - enough that he thinks for a change he might not be able to force himself to try and stay awake on high alert. their doors are locked on either end in both rooms, and hawk's pushed the dresser in front of the adjacent suite entrance to the bathroom to at least make a stir, unwilling to take any chances. but having tim splayed in his arms is the best medicine of all to counter all of this - so long as they can both weather it together and wind up like this, he has to keep pushing through.

his fingers trail idly over his bare arms, softly tracing absent patterns along the dips and curves of muscle and feeling the warmth of his breath and shift of his pretty jaw as it nudges against his chest. but theres a heavy sigh at the mention of danny.]

Yeah, I got that part.

But I'm handling that myself. The timing is bad, but it's a separate incident - and I'm not willing to use Embry's name to lead a charge on this.

It might not be. He was intimate with Embry before he killed him. Grace had her breast torn off. If he's just doing it to be a freak pervert...

[ It's not enough to accuse in the matter of Grace, but it's...disturbing. Tim tries to close his eyes, curls his arm around Hawk's waist. ]

I just think getting him away from everybody would be handling it.

I don't think he did Grace.

Saxisce - her's was clean. Meticulous. He likes choking. It could be him. It could not be him. Feels a little obvious accusing the murderer of being guilty here, doesn't it?

[hawk sighs, tipping his head down to press a soft kiss to the top of tim's head. he doesn't want this shit polluting their happy bed, now that it's well and truly theirs.]

Or I guess - sometimes the most obvious thing is the thing. Feels like we're fucked either way.

[there's a pause, a tentative and subtle shift of the topic.]

Was thinking about going to visit Alia in the dungeon tomorrow.

Even if he only killed Embry, he should still be put away.

[ Only Embry. It sounds so monstrous, as if his life didn't matter because it was before the game. Maybe they are fucked either way. Dead, or turned into monsters themselves trying to keep from being next. Tim can't let himself think that way though, even if he has to fight tooth and nail to keep those thoughts away. If he can't believe in his ability to make things better, why bother with anything, at all? ]

...it's my fault she's in there.

[ Muttered softly, clutching Hawk tighter. ]

I don't think she'll want to see me. You should, though. I'll, um. [ Koby and Quentin's might be out of the question right now too. ] I can stay with someone else for a few hours.

Edited 2024-10-10 04:51 (UTC)

[only. yeah, it sounds fucking bad. and he knows tim doesn't mean it that way - that he'd never ever fucking say it like that if the circumstances were different. but at that he glances back down, shifting to lift a finger under tim's chin and tip it up to meet his gaze.]

Whoa, hey, hey, hey.

[there's something soft there, the fondness mixing with sympathy and a sharp insistence creeping in at the edges of icy blue. his thumb strokes along the underside of tim's chin, along his neck lightly to soothe.]

It's not your fault. There were about - what, twenty others who voted before you did.

Can I tell you something?

[he shifts in, impossibly closer and lets the arm around his waist tug him in until they're even more flush.]

The evidence Baela brought was solid. I'd be shocked if she didn't do it at this point.

[and yet, notably, he still defended her.]

I don't think she'll be mad. If anything...I think she'd find this whole thing amusing. Her brother though, he seems like a pain in the ass.

[ Automatically, Tim's head tilts in the direction Hawk leads him, wet eyes meeting his. The fondness he can see in them makes the emotion rush through him even harder, everything in the last few days that he's been ignoring just to function - the fear, the worry, the guilt - rising back up, making his lip wobble and his breath labored as he struggles to contain it. Not because Hawk fails to calm him, but because it's safe now to let himself feel all of it, at least for a little while, when he looks at him like that, and holds him like this.

Tim takes a deep, shaky breath, tears falling quietly down his cheeks as he speaks. ]

I brought her name up to Alicent. Doesn't matter if I held my vote as long as I could, I started it.

[it's strange to be back in this same spot some mere hours later, everything somehow the same and so drastically different all at once. alia being guilty - locked up and declared a killer doesn't even register to hawk, not when he's clinging to tim like a child with its teddy, glancing up every so often to run his fingers gently along the edge of the angry red welt on tim's neck, to soothe along the bruises and nicks from his struggle.

there's a part of him he'll never reveal is wracked with guilt, knowing tim will insist it wasn't his fault for somehow falling asleep and not realizing what was taking place. all he can do is be grateful he got there when he did, that they have a solid case against who he suspects is the prime suspect in this vicious attack. with any luck? the second accusation will land true too. halfway there.

for now he looks up through half-lidded eyes, tipping up to press a soft kiss against tim's lips chastely and nestling in against his chest.]

Can I get you anything, Skippy?

[there's a quiet pause where it seems like maybe he's drifted off, but on the contrary: he's wide awake. vulnerable. scared, and for once? he's not afraid to voice it.]

...Christ - don't even want to close my eyes, you know?

[ Of course he doesn’t blame Hawk. Not for a thing. Tim would be dead without him, and he’s got a hunch that the doctors won’t be able to prevent any and all harm even towards those they choose to save, if the true goal of this game is to sow chaos. It's good, in terms of strategy, in terms of the game, that Tim was strangled and dragged through the grounds, so it could be tied in with Danny’s methods.

In terms of everything else? Tim’s in pain, stress needling him to the bone, sitting in group huddles and at dinner tables with his back against the wall, and jumping at noises behind him when he can’t. Sudden touches make him flinch. But Hawk’s been slow and gentle with him, exactly what he needs right now to settle down. He makes a soft sound against the kiss and lays his head back on the pillow – there’s an ache where it contours against the back of his neck, but he’s getting used to it. Tim’s fingers comb through Hawk’s hair idly as he hums, thinking. ]

Another ice pack, maybe.

[ But he’s in no hurry to let go of Hawk’s weight on him, holding him safely against the bed where he can’t be hurt. ]

I know. But we need rest, so we can think clearly. Can’t get sloppy now.

[ The stakes are higher than ever. Not that Tim’s one to talk, waking in the middle of the night unable to breathe. ]

I have a couple questions. If you're open to hearing them.

[It feels tentative, unsure, painfully so -- everything Koby had trusted in before the last few days rattled irrevocably. He trusts the crew, Quentin, Tim, Alicent. He isn't sure how anyone else feels about him after the disaster of the vote.

But: it's Hawk. So.]

Koby - hi.

[admittedly, everything was so chaotic that night that he'd missed a few of the deeper intimacies and schisms that had grown from his group of friends over the splintered vote. he's got a feeling maybe it's something around that.]

Of course, anything. Lay it on me.

[he'll ask if he's alright after the fact.]

[It is and it isn't -- more of Koby trying to tie up some loose threads.]

Did you figure out your monthly problem? And do you believe Ash?

Edited 2024-10-12 03:31 (UTC)

Ah shit, Koby. With everything else going on...forgot to let you know it's been taken care of. No more worrying about me showing up to breakfast, alright?

But thank you - for keeping it to yourself.

[ah shit 2.0. frankly, he's surprised koby is really the only one who's asked him about it in the aftermath so far.]

He's grieving. I get the feeling he thinks he has nothing to lose anymore.

Maybe. Maybe not.

What happened to Embry - I don't think it's connected to the other murders.

You're welcome. Are you going to tell me what it was? Or should I just draw my own conclusions? No, I don't think so either. It was before the game started. Maybe it inspired it or something, I don't know, but. It doesn't match what I'm learning. Still. I should've checked in with you, when it happened. I'm sorry.

Well...what do you think it was? I can't give you all the details. Promised discretion, and the kind of trust I'm getting out of this in return is priceless.

I don't think it inspired the game. This would have happened one way or another. It was - something gone sour with Embry. I tried to warn him to stay away, but he didn't fucking listen.

It's alright, Koby. We've all been preoccupied. I do appreciate it though.

...How are you and your crew doing? That looked rough.

I think that it occurred once a month on a specific set date. I think it occurred after you were attacked by the wolfman. I think that the Tuesday you told me about was a full moon. And I think that if you've handled it, I trust you, and I won't say anything more. But you don't think that it was the house? It was because of whoever it was? If you need help finding more information, I'd be happy to help once things quiet down a little. It was bad. Everyone turned on us and then we turned on each other. We acted too quickly, out of fear, and it's cost a lot. Maybe too much, I don't know. I'm starting to think there won't be anything left after all this is finally over.

I think you're a very smart boy, Koby. And that you can relax, and know I owe you.

Yeah. It was a shitshow. I don't think anyone came out of it looking good across the board, not just you guys. But we've got a chance to clean it up now - to make it count.

Can I ask you about one of them, actually? I'm working with someone else - trying to rule out suspects. You know that guy Zoro, yeah?

I don't know him well enough, but I get the sense he wouldn't do this. Seems too messy for someone with the skill of a swordsman.

Thank you, Hawk. I hope so. If there's anything left after we clean things up. [He's starting to believe there won't be.

But, immediately:] Zoro wouldn't be messy. He's the most talented swordsman I've ever seen. He works clean and quick. Also I know for a fact it wasn't him.

Christ, we can only hope. I can see it now - they'll throw us some other big party to celebrate. Like we didn't all lose relationships, limbs, and lives. At least the Balfours have got a method and they're sticking to it.

That's what I was thinking. What've you got though? Is it something you can share?

That's what I'm counting on. No. I can't, I'm -- sorry. Consider that me cashing on what you owe me -- take my word that my crew is innocent. I'd put my life on that.

Pleasure doing business with you, then.

Stay safe. I expect a dance - or at least a drink next time.

You good?

Saw Tim was hurt. Know I'm not the person anyone wants around but I got you if you need it. Glad you're both okay.

Fuck this house.

Louis - jesus. I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner. It's been...christ. You saw.

He's as alright as he can be. Haven't been letting him out of my sight, but that's what I said before it all happened too and it still did.

Fuck this house, yeah. We'll have to drink to that next time. And this time you can order what you actually like.

Hey, you're always wanted around by me. I don't care about any of the shit they said - it's why I spoke up.

Figured Alia did it with all that evidence stacked up against her. But I like her. I wasn't about to turn on her.

It's the same her - I know you wouldn't. And even if you did? You must've had your reasons, or you were compelled...I don't know.

I didn't do it. Not to my knowledge.

They thought I killed Parisa - I would have woken up with the taste of blood in my mouth. Or the feel of her blood in my veins.

They got her, they got Abigail. Got to Tim. Feels like we just gotta put all of us in cages and wait this shit out, but - I got people out here I care about. Don't want to leave them alone in it all, either.

Up half the night with a headache. I heard her. Them.

[ felt everything - the moment the people died again, but this time? with abigail? it hits harder. ]

I believe you, Louis. You don't have to convince me.

Abigail...I didn't know her, but I am sorry. She was so young. Christ. It feels - fucking helpless. Vulnerable in all the ways I've tried to shove down my whole damn life.

And you know the funniest part? We've all got our own hangups and stories and abilities - and none of it matters one goddamn bit.

I don't believe in fate, and I'm not about to start now - but it's hard not to feel like we're all being pull on strings in someone else's game.

You heard something? What - did you see anything?

Look...I think I know who one of the killers is. I think he killed Embry and then he came for Tim. Probably killed someone last round too.

I'm trusting you with this, Louis - what do you know about Danny Johnson?

[ he starts writing a response to the first message - because abigail going - and differently from the rest? it doesn't make sense. it makes something twist sickly in his gut. but the second comes through... and louis' blood runs colder than it already is. ]

I didn't hear that. I saw it. Had a dream. Danny with the knife. But I've been keeping an eye on him since I met him the first day I got here. Lots of darkness in his mind - I know he might do it whether the house compelled him or not.

But I know what I saw.

I'm sorry about your friend. About all of this.

You saw it.

Someone else I trust - she told me someone came to her with a dream too. Convinced she was innocent. They didn't even know each other. What reason would he have to approach her with it if she wasn't even under suspicion? She had an alibi already.

I don't think Embry's death had anything to do with this game. I think he's a killer, and he'd fucking do it again regardless of the circumstances. Just for the sport of it.

He bled him out. Laid him out on the altar after like an angel. It's - christ. It was fucked up. He'd been stalking Embry. I know he's stalked others, but they won't listen when I tell 'em to keep their distance.

And now Tim - fuck. What is it gonna take?

Edited 2024-10-14 16:42 (UTC)

Wouldn't be surprised if this place is making us see things and people we don't know. It's already making us do plenty we don't intend to do.

But -

[ the visual - bled out, laid upon an altar - all of it seems on brand with the things he knows about danny. and strangely? he thinks of his own making - lestat and he on the altar of a church, bleeding and surrounded in flame. ]
It's fucked. Even if they keep their distance in this place, it's too small. All of us getting stir crazy and this place is just appealing to his nature.

If he laid hands on Tim, on any of them -

Keep that guy away from me or I'm going to jail for hitting him with a dinner plate.

He thinks Christians are the most likely to be murderers because of the Spanish Inquisition

as if that has anything to do with this place or anyone in it

he's impossible.

Which guy? They're all on my goddamn nerves at this rate.

I'm sorry, honey.

eunhyuk.

specifically

but this entire thing is so infuriating

Edited 2024-10-15 02:51 (UTC)

Guess it's true what they say about this kind of crisis bringing out your real friends.

I'm ready to give up on all of them except you.

Koby's not wrong to spread the vote out.

But he believes that the rules of the game are the rules, so if he thinks Usopp is right, then Louis can't be a seer, and our evidence is bad and he didn't say anything. One of them is lying.

Edited 2024-10-15 03:06 (UTC)

and please don't fight with Harry I cant deal with that right now

Except - I thought we already knew the rules of this game are different. Why wouldn't they be, if it's being facilitated by the house?

Accusing Louis takes away credence from our theory. It does make it look bad.

Well maybe Harry should shut his mouth and be supportive instead of trying to throw in anymore wrenches.

I don't think he can be a wolf and a seer. It would break the game.

I know. We have enough. A lot of people think motive doesn't matter but i don't. I've been drugged here plenty of times and still chose to come to you over anyone else

when we're not fighting anyway

He is trying to help. But he's assuming his magic works correctly when no one else's does, which is probably not true. And I told him that. He'll vote with me.

Edited 2024-10-15 03:49 (UTC)

I trust Louis, Tim. This isn't the first time he's told us to be careful of Danny. I don't think it'll be the last.

Mm. Well. I'm grateful for that. Hopefully no more fighting between us after this, yeah? It's...there's a lot in perspective, I'll say that much.

Except for this - Harry character. He better put his ass in line.

...You really went out with him?

I do too. So what's wrong with Usopp?

He will. He's just confident in his abilities.

I have been, yeah.

Nothing. I don't know the guy. I believe that he believes what he's saying. I just think it's odd he didn't come out with what he knew about Maxine earlier if it was true.

There's a difference between confident and cocky.

When this is over - you think...you will again?

We need to find out. I believe Louis, so he has to be wrong, but how do we prove it?

You're not one to talk, on that point.

I don't even know if he and I will both be alive when this is over. But I think so. I watched him burn his fingers raw to make that charm for me, he has good intentions, even if it didn't work.

We're running out of time, Skip. For once, I haven't got a goddamn clue. Until they pick another name, or get proven right by the house...I'm not sure we can do anything. Seems like it'd be more strategic to put the vote somewhere else, until we figure out how the seers get their visions.

If we can't do that, our only other option is dismantling the vote. Sure, I respect them sticking together - but they fell apart once. There's got to be leverage for them to do it again.

Well. I've got the cock to back it up, don't I?

And you...you like him? How much?

I'm not going to war against Koby, Hawk. If we're picking holes in their argument, it needs to be with evidence, not coming at them as people.

🙄😏

I like him. He's...strange, but in an endearing way. He's a wizard and a PI. I don't know how to judge magical power, but his hands are frosty sometimes. Said he spent a decade fighting vampires, but that he won't start fights with the ones here. I trust him.

I'm not asking you to. But what are we supposed to do in the absence of evidence? We can plead our cases. But I think we start with Shanks and Koby. Luffy's the big ticket. The others - they're in it for the girl. Or they were before, and I suspect if they want to be in her good graces, they will this time.

How do you get those things again? I'd rather just give you a real kiss.

When this is over - if we're still standing...do you think that's who you'll want to be with?

Shanks and Koby have a thing. It's more than just hooking up. Luffy says he's the captain, but he's...
Well it looks like Nami's the one really in charge.

The face above the numbers on the keyboard. They have one that looks like me 👨‍🏫

Hawk, don't

it's not about deciding between you and something else
it's about knowing what something else even feels like
I learned how to feel real desire from you. but I need to understand it for myself without all that baggage (good and bad). I need to figure out what I want and so do you. but I can't do that right now with death looming over me.

I do know you saved my life the other night. And you stood by me tonight, fought for me. I feel good about that. You're not going anywhere

at least not because I'm telling you to

Edited (new info better wording idk) 2024-10-15 21:39 (UTC)

Nami's the brains - that doesn't surprise me. Did I ever tell you about the time we played tennis?

Koby and Shanks, though. Huh. What about Koby and Luffy - did they...?

Well, would you look at that. It does. I still think I prefer the real thing, though.

[there's a long pause between messages, like hawk has tried typing them over and over and failed to articulate his thoughts. he's exhausted.]

Okay. If that's what you need. What you want.

We can talk about it - when this is all over.

[he can't bring himself to type out if.]

You're playing tennis again? No, you didn't tell me.

There's still...something there, but it hasn't gone that far.

Later. We'll have time.

Ah - just gave it a try out there once. Wanted to clear my head after we...after I had to leave. You ever played? You'd look real cute in those shorts.

Sounds like quite an interesting crew. Doesn't that get awkward?

I'm trying to make sure of it. You know - I'll do anything to protect, you right? But I'm trying...not to be so overbearing too.

A couple times in college. I took more to baseball, though.

After dealing with Alicent's family, their drama is easy.

Thank you, Hawk. I know you are. That's exactly what I've been needing from you. I should get myself nearly killed more often 😛

Well, you'd look just as cute in one of those hats and the socks, too. All-American, boy next door kind of thing. Maybe when this is all over - you can come watch me play.

You know what - touché.

Don't joke about that. I came back before then, didn't I? I just...there's no point holding back anymore.

Maybe I can. How short are the shorts?

You did. We just didn’t have much time until all hell broke loose. Will I still be able to count on you when this is over, or will it be back to normal?

Not obscene, but more than enough to make my mouth water. What do you think about that?

The way things are right now - not the murder or the fear obviously, but...this, us, together - I want this to be the new normal. If that's what you want too.

I want to watch you play in them, then.

I think I do, and I'm glad you want it. But I don't think I'm being too hard on you if I say I've heard that before.

Yeah? Well alright then. Soon as the last wolf is locked up, it's a date.

You're not. I told you I'd prove it to you. I'm still trying.

I'm going back upstairs. I'll leave it unlocked.

[ no context, because he still thinks all the context is present in the message itself: ]

Wergild is a blood purse. Payment for killing another man as commoner's justice.

Proper coin within the kingdoms are counted in copper, silver, and gold. One gold dragon is worth thirty silver moons, one silver moon worth nine-and-forty copper stars, and one copper star worth six-and-fifty common pennies.

How much is your flint worth?

[don't worry aemond, hawk is picking up what ur putting down. he smiles, despite himself, when he gets the text.]

Got it. Shame we don't get those where I come from - there's a few people who could use some commoner's justice.

Not too far off from what we use. Some coins, some paper. Paper's worth 100 pennies - comes in increments of 1, 2, 5, 20, and 100.

The flint? In my world - probably about $250. [in 1954's economy, anyway.]

In yours? Well, if I'm doing the math right - a little under 5 silver moons. Don't quote me on that.

[ highly expensive for a flint, aemond thinks at first, but its utility is outweighed by the gold case and its repeated function. in which case, five silver moons is more than a fair price for such a flint. ]

You are fond of gold, then? And you pay your debts?

You do not have their colours, but you have the manner of a Lannister.

Money helps where I'm from. Power, influence, stability - but it's a double-edged sword when you're on the other end of it.

[like a father holding inheritance over his head in exchange for an apology - for living his life cautiously but still not straight enough.]

I don't like being in debt to anyone, no. Not just financially, either. Tell me about the Lannisters - what are their colors?

The Lannisters are fair-haired, flaxen gold. Pale of skin, with strong and proud features. Their standard and banner carries a gold roaring lion raised on its hind legs, facing eastwards on a crimson field.

The words of House Lannister is "Hear Me Roar!", but the commonfolk know them better by other words: "A Lannister always pays his debts."

Lord Tyland Lannister is a councilor at my table as Regent, with the office of Master of Ships. His twin brother, Ser Jason, sought to marry my half-sister Rhaenyra, once.

You remind me of him. Jason.

[ this is a very backhanded compliment. aemond is not revising his statement in the meantime. ]

You mislike it, not having power or influence? Do you hold office where you're from?

Edited 2024-10-20 17:13 (UTC)

I'm already the black sheep of my own family. Funny it'd stick with theirs, too.

Rhaenyra - she's with Daemon, right? I'm still trying to keep it all straight. I'm getting the sense Ser Jason didn't live up to everyone's expectations.

[he can read between the lines ok!!! but there's a slight delay in his last response, mostly from trying to parse it out himself.]

I work for the justice department. Senator, President - those titles aren't for me. Neither is the power or the scrutiny that comes with them.

Me? Before this place, I was willing to get my hands dirty so another man could keep his clean. A Senator - a good man, which is rare if not nonexistent when it comes to those in power. All I wanted to do was help him dismantle the bullshit eating away at our government from the inside out. I stayed high enough to collect favors from all the right people, and just under the radar enough not to get a target on my own back.

At the end of the day? I'd like to think it made a difference. But I'm smart enough to realize I was selfish in just putting in my time until I could get the fuck out of there someday when I'm old and have a hell of a lot more wrinkles on this mug - somewhere by the water, where they don't look too closely or give a shit what a man eats, breathes, or fucks when he's alone. Personal freedom at the expense of everyone else.

That's not what I want anymore.

( danny gives it a couple days of waiting, but when hawk doesn't show, inevitably: )

you ain't gonna come say hi?

[his response doesn't come right away. he's considered it, sure. but he knows it wouldn't end well the mood he's been in. watching tim struggle, waiting for the other shoe to drop until they find out if they were right or not, the fall out with koby - he hates every goddamn minute of it. and he hates the way danny johnson brings back the memories of blood under his fingernails and up his nostrils, back to a time when killing was second nature.]

What, no conjugal visits from your fanclub yet?

( fanclub is almost as good as cult, though not quite as on the nose. danny stretches out his legs over his little uncomfortable cot, settling in for playtime. alia and luci can keep mario kart. )

they've made their rounds, but they ain't who i was waiting for, mr. fuller.

Your Daddy ever teach you about patience being a virtue?

Keep waiting.

[it's all too fresh. embry, tim - every time he looks at the nasty seam of red across this throat, he thinks about what would have happened if he hadn't gotten there on time. he thinks about doing the same damn thing to danny with his bare hands.]

well, ain't nobody else giving me a stern talking to down here. if you don't come see me, how am i supposed to learn my lesson?

[there's no response that night - particularly because hawk knows it's goddamn laughable to think danny johnson can be taught any kind of lesson by his hand. he's a bad apple, the kind that's rotted from the core inside out and there's just no salvaging other than dumping it straight in the trash and picking another pretty one from an aisle. it's easy to imagine those seeds seeping out every nasty little thing in his fucked up brain, infecting apparently a swathe of supporters here in salt or wherever the hell (ha) he's from - jem, eddie, john, even that doctor full of crock and drugs, apparently. twisting deep into their guts and rotting them from the inside out too, one evil little family. or maybe as hawk lays awake at night with tim sleeping in his arms while he stares at the ceiling and decides what he's gonna do - he's just imagining things. this game (doesn't fucking feel like one) has everything feeling like it's gnawing at some core within him, baiting him every day just like danny's texts to do something he'd never have dreamed of among civilized people.

(are any of them anymore, really? maybe tim, who looks like an angel - mussed hair and pretty profile marred by the angry weal of red from that belt. jesus christ.)

it's not until the next night that he endeavors to come down to the dungeon. he doesn't know jack about danny's schedule or his visitors, just that he's left tim with alicent and aemond for awhile with the promise that he needs to visit louis and have a smoke. but louis isn't the one he's there to see after night falls and he's bribed giles for a key, snuck in the opposite end so no one will know he's even here unless they're listening real careful.

there's no tie for the occasion, even if he'd considered bringing embry's soiled one for the irony of it. no blazer either, just a sleek button down and slacks, hair starting to slip from its careful coiffing from the days efforts to focus on quite literally anything else. it's funny, hawk thinks, how danny looks like an angel too at face value if you didn't know him - sweet face, clean haircut, all-american boy bullshit curled up looking sad and pathetic behind bars. complacent, like he'd ended up there all on some misunderstanding or sick accident. except hawk knows better than anyone after embry's corpse had infiltrated his dreams: danny can make anyone look like they're sleeping peacefully no matter how carved up too, and he deserves to be behind bars maybe more than anyone else here.

there's a bland expression on his face as he approaches the bars, pulling out a cigarette and the new lighter that doesn't really feel as weighty or satisfactory in his hands. it's dark down here, the flame illuminating all the sharp contours of his face: the flex of his jaw, the pointed tip of his nose, the curve of high cheekbones. it's clicked back closed and slipped inside a pocket, hawk exhaling straight into the cell and folding an arm across his chest carelessly, the other with his cigarette balanced between thumb and forefinger as he looks on mostly feigning disinterest, like he's looking at a zoo animal that's been naughty outside its enclosure. the weight of the keys sit in his other pocket, keeping the seemingly thin thread of his sanity intact for now so long as the barrier isn't breached.]

Don't tell me it's past your bedtime.

I have been invited to treat with the greens — or their representatives, at least, Armand and Set.

[ how funny, that she should not be green. ]

I expect they covet the numbers my family represents.

[ set has made no secret of his desire to win. ]

Guess I shouldn't be surprised it took them this long to catch on.

[their conversation about women being woefully underestimated still lives rent free in his brain.]

Don't need to flatter myself to think you're looking for approval here - do you want my honest opinion?

On Armand and his desires, certainly.
Set is a obvious one.

Gotta be honest, I haven't interacted at all with Set to know much about him, so it's good you've got that one covered.

Armand?

He wants to win now, but the second his interests no longer match ours? He's not going to be an ally. He threw his own husband in the dungeon, "for safety", he says - but if he knew, why didn't he try it sooner?

That guy's got an agenda. Only thing is, I get the sense it's not one anyone else can pinpoint. There's something off about him, and it's not the vampire thing. I don't give a shit about that, pardon my french.

I'd say - a contingency plan is a must.

You need not speak with Set to get the measure of him. He boasts of his ambition to win openly, for all to see, like a boy in a joust.

[ she thinks of louis’ words. he’s done it before, spoken recently. i was trapped in a tower, too, when they first met. ]

Indeed, I will inform my strongest ally of my whereabouts, in the event the meeting should curdle.

I think you have the right of him. It must change one’s perspective, to live for so long and lose much. Perhaps it matters less the manner in which what one desires is kept, merely that it remains in hand.

Edited 2024-10-19 23:07 (UTC)

Then he's either overly confident in his abilities or he's about to learn a hard lesson. Anyone in this for the thrill of the game has more than a few screws loose. I'm just looking to get out of it alive.

You're taking the meeting alone? Alicent - someone should go with you if he didn't ask otherwise. Aemond, or - I don't know. I don't like the idea of you going alone.

You think you'd ever do it, if it was offered to you?

[immortality, he means.]

I don't think I would. People don't like the way I look at the world now - it'd only get worse with time. Makes me wonder how much he's lost all on his own, no fault of anyone else.

There's something overly confident about him. I don't think that facade is all it's cracked up to be.

Armand and I have an understanding of our own, and he has witnessed my sway among the guests now. He is not so foolish as to kill one who would be missed, particularly by his progeny.

[ daniel, who many seem to have forgotten in their hunt for a vampire killer. ]

And Aemond cannot be trusted to behave among prideful men, besides. [ he pissed hawk off in .5 seconds. that’s talent. ] I have asked another of my allies to stay close.

I do not know. [ armand’s words in her mind: you would make a singularly excellent vampire. ] The whole of my life was decided the moment my father sent me to comfort a grieving king in my mother’s finest gowns. That is to say, I understand the desire to start again, as Daniel has.

Edited (im a clown) 2024-10-21 14:47 (UTC)

Yeah well, if anyone's going to understand him - I'm not surprised it's you. Diplomatic as always, your Highness.

I like him, you know. Not sure the feeling is mutual.

[YET!!!! he's working on it. dad audition still going strong.]

So I don't necessarily buy this place being - purgatory, or hell, or whatever Tim thinks. And I know it's not always the best, case in point: this game - but isn't it a way for us to start again too? Without having to drink from the fountain of youth.

I used to think getting exiled for who I slept with was the worst thing that could happen to me. Took being here to realize - living without the people I care about is even worse. I owe you an apology, for doing the same thing your father did when it came to Embry. It wasn't personal - but I didn't want to cause a panic, and I guess I let old habits die hard.

Didn't realize it was gonna be followed up with six others.

I'm handling Danny. What are we gonna do about the rest of the ones still out there? I haven't got a clue.

You need not lie for my benefit. I know my son is sharp. He has been the only barrier between our family and annihilation for too long to be anything else.

[ explanation, not justification. his actions are not always warranted, but perhaps they’re understandable.

at the mention of her father, she bristles. you could never hurt me the way he can, stinging against her teeth. otto hightower invented the game that hawk merely plays. ]

My pride will recover from your secrets. I cannot say my trust will be easily mended, when Alina paid the price for your choices. You must have known who was like to have harmed her and yet you still allowed to her to spin around in search of her killer, trusting none and risking all. Why?

Are those you love the only ones deserving of justice?

Edited 2024-10-24 18:04 (UTC)

I'm not lying. I wouldn't have given him my lighter if I didn't like him.

[of course it isn't about pride here. alicent isn't so foolish and nearsighted as to let a concept so petty be her main focus. i didn't know her doesn't seem like the right answer here, even if it's what he would have said in the past, brushed off as mere collateral damage.]

Of course not.

I made a judgment call - and I was wrong. There's no point making excuses when that's all they'd be. I should have trusted you - your family, everyone else with my secret. Embry's, really.

I am sorry.

It won't happen again.

[ when has any man ever acknowledged their mistakes and apologised? her father wouldn’t dare, her sons know such an admission to be weakness incarnate, and her councillors think themselves wiser than her, with her foolish heart.

it takes her a long moment to reply. ]

I want to believe you.

[ stupid girl that she is. no, she mustn’t trust him until he proves himself again. the damage done is too great. she can still feel the raised ridge of alina’s scar under her hand. how cruel it is to think yourself strong — a queen, a saint — and have a man ruin you for his pleasure. ]

Keep safe, Hawkins, for Tim’s sake.

want me to get you the morphine so you don't have to be seen around the den?

You're a gem.

It's not the morphine I'm after - I feel like these poisonings have gone under the radar. There's still someone on the loose out there.

You got any idea who's competing with the furniture in there?

i know ya ain't. but not any one on the regular. except the doc you were talking to. i think maybe saw embry in there a few times? everyone else i either don't see enough to think of them as being real regulars like me, or they're good at laying low so they're not seen. decent amount of casuals filter through.

Someone better hide the cocaine now that Embry's back.

Who's under the radar, then? The ones coming in an out.

i should maybe be worried i offered him some, then. better not take my whole private stash. don't judge me too hard, but i really can't remember very well. if i'm in there and not in my own stash, i'm usually getting real fucked up. it's what it's hard to remember anyone that isn't there on the regular.

Keep an eye on him for me, would you? I think he's gonna need a friend, and he's not happy with me right now.

I'm not judging you. I just - worry. You're not doing it now, are you? With everything going on...we've gotta stay sharp.

Come see Tim and I, if you need somewhere safe. Our other room is unoccupied when Alicent and her family aren't coming by.

[ Tim left yesterday. He's in a new room now, one Hawk won't recognize yet. It looks like it's been unoccupied and sparsely used, not cluttered and cozy the way Koby's is. ]

How long have you been with him, knowing that he talks to me like that?

[hawk has three guesses: he's at harry's, he's at aemond's, or he's in an empty room unattached to anyone else's. hawk picks up with a sigh at the immediate note in tim's voice - like he's looking for a fight.]

Embry talks to everyone like that, Skippy.

[ Looking for a fight? When has Timothy David Laughlin EVER-- ]

Is that supposed to be better?

It's not personal.

[duh.]

Look - why are you hung up on this? He just got back from the dead. He probably doesn't even mean it.

And besides - I'm not asking you any questions about your weird little magic trinkets and whatever other escapades you've had while I was away.

If I were seeing someone who jumped on every opportunity to insult you, I would set him right or stop seeing him. This isn't new.

And - if you did ask, I would answer, because honesty is still important to me, despite all the lying I do for you.

I get the impression he just likes getting a rise out of you. Whatever this - tonight - was...it's not the same. I defended you, didn't I?

[there's a rolling of his eyes, a muttered oh for crying out loud.]

What now? There's more than one reason I wanted to keep you out of these things. Your safety, most importantly, but that too.

I told you early on: I don't want you to do anything you don't wanna do for me, Skippy.

[ Pulling down the collar on his sweater, where the bruising remains on his neck, red instead of purple now, but still clear as day: ]

That's not true - you wanted me to lie about what happened to Embry, and now you're lying about murder. Why? It didn't make me any safer. The opposite, actually. Alicent's right, and now she'll never trust me again.

[well, now you get a frowny face.]

Yeah, I wanted you to lie so we wouldn't go causing a mass panic and letting everyone think they were next. I didn't know - this fucking game was going to happen right after, Tim.

[hawk sucks in a breath, jaw tightening and eyes looking slightly glassier than before.]

Do you honestly think - if I'd known what would have happen I'd have done it the same? Do you think I'd be willing to risk you?

Not in a million years.

I'm sorry, okay. Blame me if you want - it wasn't your fault, and Alicent should know that.

You did risk me, you risked everyone, letting a killer walk around!

What if it were me? What if I was killed, and someone knew who did it, and didn't tell you so you wouldn't worry? You'd be furious.

It's not like I have a time-machine I can go back and fix it in, Tim. Don't you think -

[there's a thick swallow, hawk blinking rapidly once to clear his eyesight from getting hazy.]

It's all I can think about sometimes. Nightmares, watching you when you're not right next to me. That I made a gamble and it almost cost me you. Everything.

I don't know what else you want me to say, Skippy. I already know I fucked up not putting him behind bars sooner.

[ Tim deflates, and takes the phone with him to flop down on the bed. There's a jumble of sound and indecipherable picture as he moves, and then he's laying on his side, phone propped against a pillow. ]

It would have been wrong even if the werewolf game never happened. I want you to acknowledge that. And I think you should come clean.

Come clean about what, Tim?

You honestly think me making an apology post for something I'm not sorry for is going to win me any favors? Admitting I did what I did to protect you and everyone else, yeah, I'm sure that'll go over well.

I'm not sorry.Would have taken him into the woods and hunted him down if I had the chance sooner.

I know it wasn't right. But things here - they've changed. This was the only way to know he wouldn't come back and finish what he started with you. I'd choose that over and over again.

Edited 2024-10-28 02:52 (UTC)

You should be. You killed someone already locked in a cage. It's sick, Hawk.

Don't say it was for me, I never would have asked you to.

You think he was gonna come back out like a puppy with its tail between its legs, Tim? He'd do this again. I know he would.

Fine - but you better not tell me you're concerned for my eternal soul. I put him down like the dog he was. It's what he deserved, and I thought you knew by now: I don't shy away from getting my hands dirty for the people that need to keep theirs clean.

And what if I am? You're gonna insult me again, tell me it's all fake?

Whether someone deserves to die is not for you to decide.

You can feel however you want about it. But I'm the one who did it, and I'm pretty sure my soul was damned the minute I stopped believing in god anyway - at least, that's what I remember from the classes I bothered to listen to.

Yeah? And so where does that leave Danny, then? You think the Balfours would care enough to leave him locked up in prison when this is all over with? He'd be out here again making those same decisions.

Sorry if I didn't feel like a goddamn repeat.

If it wasn't then, it is now.

[ He didn't think it was, then. Despite not believing, despite the lying and sneaking and dirty Washington games, he knew that there was enough good in Hawk that he would have a chance. Tim's probably seen more of it than anyone. It makes his eyes water and his chest ache to think of it, and he wipes at his eyes furiously, not wanting to cry about it again where there's a chance Aemond could hear him.

Tim pulls the hood on his sweater up, something to wrap around him, comfort him. ]

We'll never know what they'd have done, because of you.

Yeah? So you're done with me, is that it? What happened to forgiveness, isn't that what the whole fucking thing is about?

[it doesn't bring him any pleasure to see tim so caught up in his feelings about this. suffering, crying over hawk's actions alone.]

I'm not sorry, Tim. He took Embry. I wasn't going to let him take you too.

...I didn't know he'd come back. If I had? Maybe I would have thought differently.

You can't ask for forgiveness if you're not even sorry.

And are you sorry, Tim, for the things we do together in that room of ours?

Do you want to be forgiven for all the times you've gotten on your knees and worshipped me like you might the god who's got no business being there in the first place?

Or is it only when you get upset about certain parts of this mess we're in?

[there's a fire in his eyes now, something challenging because he's sick of the way tim is clinging to this like a crutch. why would a god who's supposed to forgive have someone like mccarthy advocating for wiping out half the justice department? and why would that same god even give life to someone like danny johnson in the first place? why would he watch tim suffer on the tightrope between all of the horrors here and punish him for only ever trying to be good?

because he can't fucking be real. just another bogeyman to control people with. another foolish ideal to get someone killed over.]

Tell me the truth, Skippy.

[ Has he heard a more ridiculous comparison in his life? Maybe, but it's not coming to mind right now. It earns Hawk little more than an eye roll, more irritation than anything else. ]

What are you talking about? Murder and being with you aren't even remotely the same thing, but if you think it is, maybe I should stop.

Answer the question. The rules apply to everything, don't they?

You can't pick and choose what God will overlook. And if it comes down to what you can tolerate - then don't bring religion into it.

You're the one that brought religion into it, not me. I can't, because you always do this. I'm not debating with you whether it's okay to kill people if you're mad at them enough.

Oh, for christ's sake, Tim - listen to yourself!

You're the one worried about my soul. I'm not here to debate about murder. You think Danny's the first man I ever killed? I was damned before I walked into this estate if that's the case.

And if you really think I'm going to do anything like it again...

[of course he wouldn't. but if that's what tim thinks:]

Then you're right about one thing. Maybe we shouldn't be together.

You listen to yourself. This isn't a war!

And I didn't say that, but if you need someone to be okay with this, or that won't care enough to challenge you, fine. You can go be with Embry. I'm sure you'll be very happy being condescending and twisting my words around together.

Wasn't it? Waking up every night not knowing if we were gonna make it? Finding allies, sticking together to try and root out the ones wreaking havoc on the rest of us?

You weren't there, Tim. And I'm glad for that, every day - but you weren't.

Embry and I don't talk about you.

Not sure you can say the same about Luci, or Harry, or Quentin, or anyone else, though.

And no, I'm not looking for someone to just roll over. But if this is the hill you want - [to die on, he almost says, before thinking better of it.]

If this is where you're drawing a line, then we're never going to agree. I did what I thought I had to do to keep you safe.

Why are you so hung up on Luci? I haven't spent more than five minutes with him since the first Otherworld party months ago.

I thought you knew me. There's no way you thought I would be okay with this.

You fucked him, didn't you?

Tim...

[hawk sighs again, deflating and closing his eyes for a few moments.]

Of course I know you. Of course I knew you wouldn't want me to do this. I did it - for us. To protect you. And I'm the only one who's gonna bear the consequences, okay?

Once, when we weren't together. I was so drunk I barely even remember.

[ Luci is an insane person who wasted everyone's time at the voting meetings and thinks he's the devil. It's not happening again, it's not important. The guilty part of him considers that maybe that's why Hawk is so hung up on this one, because it's not important, he can just grouch about it without the complicated emotions of considering someone who is. ]

What consequences are those, if you're not fessing up to it?

Well there's another reason. He practically took advantage of you!

[is he making a big deal over nothing? maybe. maybe not. it still rankles him that sometimes tim's stringent rules only seem to be enforced when it's hawk who isn't abiding by them. someone like luci that was altogether meaningless - yeah, it irks him.

but he's quiet for a few moments, thinking through what he wants to say carefully. his voice softens, gaze dropping from the camera off somewhere in his lap.]

Disappointing you, for starters.

No, he didn't, I just needed...those first couple weeks were really hard for me, okay? You were getting married and I needed to not think about it, just for an hour. I wanted it, at the time. It was just a stupid mistake, nothing more.

[ Luci wasn't the first meaningless hookup he'd ever had. Just the first one he'd have to see again. It didn't make him feel better, neither did Lestat the night after Hawk left. Maybe it's growth on his part that he hasn't channeled this angry heartache into some random rendezvous at Otherworld, or maybe he's doing something worse, seeking comfort in men who can actually provide it.

After the month they've all had, it's hard to know anything for sure. ]

...I understand that you wanted to protect me. That doesn't make it right, but I do understand why you did it.

[needed it by doing the exact thing he'd lectured hawk for doing, in the past. meaningless, mindless fucks. but he believes tim now that it was a mistake, that the reasons in doing so were different than hawk's, but they were needed all the same.]

So where does that leave us now, Skippy?

I just...I need some space. I have a lot to think about.

[ And pray about, which goes unsaid, but they both know. It's been a hard month, and he's done a lot of things he isn't proud of, plenty of which have nothing to do with Hawk. Bartering with lives, fighting with friends, lying to those who are as good as family - he'd proven better at the game than he thought he'd be. That's something to be ashamed of, as far as he's concerned. ]

About everything, not just you.

hey
you know how we decided to trust each other and all that shit

Hey, yeah. Why do I have a feeling I'm not gonna like where this is going?

you might like it, depending on what you’re into.

would you put down johnson if you had the chance?

Well, if I told you I had the chance and took it, what would your response be?

that you did the right thing.
some people can’t be stopped any other way.

i’ve known a guy like that for too long. i’ve let him hurt me and others, again and again. i can’t let him do that here, hawk, so i’m ending it, tonight.
figured someone should know, in case i fail.
but i don’t plan on it.

Yeah. You're right. Playing by the rules - it's usually never enough.

I'm not gonna talk you out of this, even though there are people who would tell me I should. I get it.

Tell me how I can help - if you need anything before you do this.

all you need is his name, in case he hurts someone you know after me. it’s homelander.

and to keep yours out of the way. when we fight…there’ll be collateral. i’ll try to steer him towards the woods, but we’re the best in the league. like the cheerleader and the quarterback of overpowered jackasses.

Homelander. Yeah, I've seen him around.

[he's seen the way this guy would be a walking wet dream for the axis side.]

Sounds pretty goddamn bad. I'd better see you when this is over, Maeve - I can count the number of friends I've got around here on a hand or less.

That, and who else is gonna run circles around me in the gym?

Take care of yourself. I'll figure out when it's done.

you too, fuller.

and keep an eye on Caroline Forbes, if I don’t see you in the morning.

[ just in case. ]

Blondie - the smart one. Sure thing.

[ he always let hawk decide when they met, the when and the where, but embry breaks their rules this night and shows up at hawk's door and prays to the god he doesn't believe in that tim isn't in his bed. that would be primordially fucked up, and he's already fucked up enough as it is by blasting his emotions onto both of them and receiving none of hawk's ire in return. it was almost worse for hawk to talk to him like he was losing his mind, like trying to calm a panicked horse. it feels real then. like he is losing his mind.

he's on the edge of his goddamn nerves and he doesn't want to take it out on ash, doesn't want to ask even more than he already has. ash has been the perfect lover, strong and brutal and achingly sweet, everything embry needs because ash has always been everything embry needs. and embry has been what he always is — the absolute fucking worst.

his knuckles rap on hawk's door, shoulder pressed to the jamb as he leans forward, his forehead nearly touching the wood. when it opens, his lifts his gaze, his blue eyes as bruised as a night sky, muscles tensing as if he wants to step back, as if he's reconsidering his actions of coming here at all. ]

You shouldn't have done it. [ it's the only thing he can think to say, and it covers — everything, really. danny, primarily. but them, too. on an unsteady breath — ] I don't know what to do.

[ i can't lose you. ]

[tim's long gone. he'd packed his things in a huff, looking at him with red-rimmed eyes behind his glasses like hell was going to open beneath his feet and drag him down on the spot for taking care of danny fucking johnson himself. there are absolutely no regrets - not when the thought of losing tim on top of embry would have left him with absolutely nothing. the two people he's ever cared most for, gone. nothing left to live for. that dangerous thread starts and ends with them all in the same place. so danny had to go. embry had been right: there was something fucked up about him. serene, somehow, while he struggled in the end - like he was only half-heartedly resisting death and wanted to relish it instead as thick thumbs drove harder and harder into his windpipe.

maybe he'll have nightmares about it someday. for now, his nightmares begin and end with embry's lifeless body on the altar, tim's in the lake.

and then embry came back. he's not at liberty to question anything about it, too goddamn relieved and wondering if this is some nasty trick or a reward for what he'd done for rosie from the balfours. but there's too much happening around them now to worry about the how and the why - instead he just wants to fastforward to the part where embry is in his bed flushed with color and saturated in life again. fuck, he'd missed him more than he'd realized. he thinks back to the message he'd sent, to the funeral announcement and the eulogy and knows he might have made a fool of himself. but that's alright. a small price to pay to have the knock on his door, to drink him in at the threshold of his room before reaching for his arm and dragging him inside without a word.]

Get in here.

[it's not "get in here, because i can't be seen like this." it's not even "get in here before you make a scene," or "get in here and tell me why you broke our unspoken rules." it's get in here, let me tell you all the reasons i'd do it again and again and again in between kisses.

kisses like the one he tentatively presses against embry's forehead, hands coming up to lightly press at his cheeks, his jaw, like he's worried none of this is real and he'll wake up any minute. but his lips and his fingers prove otherwise, and there's a shaky groan at the realization that comes from somewhere deep in his chest.]

You don't have to do a goddamn thing. Just...be here. And don't ever fucking do that again.

[ he can't promise it. he can't promise that he'll never, ever die again, though he doesn't want to re-experience the fearful helplessness of it, the slow moments of imagining all the people he's leaving behind and disappointing in some way. but the allure of letting go, the quietly shining adrenaline pump of his final heartbeats... he relives that at night, his hair mussed and blue eyes blinking in the dark, ash's steady breath at his side. and he feels so fucking guilty for being enthralled by something that hurts ash so badly — that's always hurt him, because ash has accused him of holding onto a death wish for more than a decade now, since their army days, since embry was a reckless soldier that would be dead if not for captain colchester's watchful eye on the battlefield.

he wonders if hawk would understand, or if that would hurt him, too. he decides telling him would be like spitting his sacrifices in his face right now. hawk killed for him, after all. embry still can't unravel the magnitude of that decision, his throat already tight beneath the brush of hawk's lips. his hands wind at hawk's belt loops, nervous where he would normally be confidently moving to the zipper of his trousers, shameless about the purposes of their late night rendezvous. but he just holds him, his breath taut, his fingers curling erratically in the fabric of his clothes. ]

Tim is worth killing for. [ he meets hawk's gaze as he says it, wanting him to know that embry moore stands by every shitty thing he says. ] I don't know what you were thinking. Everyone knows I fucked Danny up first. I'm not gonna announce it to the whole fucking house, but I had it coming. Not just for this. But for every shitty thing I've ever done that you don't even know about.

[ he slips a hand to hawk's wrist, holding tight like he can't decide if he wants to tear away his touch or move closer. ]

I wish you didn't. Fuck, Hawk. [ he pushes in, their mouths catching in a messy, desperate tangle. ] I wish you fucking didn't,

He started it.

[it's inane and childish to put it like that, but it's the truth. embry didn't deserve death because he tried to even a score that danny put on the board - whatever he did, nothing warranted murder. it's funny considering hawk's never been much of an eye for an eye sort of man unless it's something he can collect in a semblance of a favor - a calling card he can return to when the time strikes right and the leverage he has is irrefutable. he's done it dozens of times in dc, usually on behalf of senator smith without anyone the wiser. he's a ruthless prick, but he'd do it again just like he'd gladly have carried out his original method of inviting danny out to the woods and pumping two shotgun blasts straight to the chest and letting him bleed out, abandoned for good.

wouldn't have worked either. what a shame.]

If it makes you feel better, I killed him for you both.

[the attempt on tim's life pushed him over the edge, no matter how many people insist it wasn't danny.]

Jesus, I don't wanna talk about him Embry.

[hawk presses his fingers back, palm sliding against the tousle of his hair and mussing it further before letting one slide to his neck. he leans in at the same time embry does, nipping his lower lip and keeping their foreheads pressed together and trying to breathe the same exhales that come from his mouth because it means he's alive and he's here and he's not splayed out on the cold stone slab of the chapel altar like a sacrificial lamb. there's a pause where he almost says something else, until he decides better and surges forward again, hips nudging against embry's to walk him back and back and back further into the room where he can take him apart and reassure himself that he's not going to be taken again.

fuck, when did he get so goddamn sentimental?]

[SALTBURNT INBOX]

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un: t.laughlin

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— at the baths (blanket cw for blood, unsafe sex, etc. there are no role models present)

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sorry.

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