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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?

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