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Hawk loved spending Christmas in Staten Island with Tim's family. He truly did. Every year, as the festive season rolled around, he looked forward to the week he would spend away from the State Department and the duplicity and hypocrisy he dealt with there on a daily basis. There was a sense of freedom in the Laughlin house - of belonging to something truly important. Hawk wouldn't trade a single day of being with the Laughlins for the cold formality of his childhood home, or the stuffy parties of Washington DC.
But. Well, it wasn't so much a but as a caveat, a side note. An observation.
Hawk had to admit that sometimes it could get a little… much.
Between the family that actually lived in the house - Tim's mother and father, Uncle Ronald and, naturally, Grandma Laughlin - and the revolving door of aunts, uncles, cousins and their children, all wanting to chat and catch up and overshare in the way that close families did. Hawk could get a little overwhelmed.
They'd opened their arms and accepted him the minute Tim had introduced him as "my Hawk", and Hawk would never be able to properly convey how grateful he was to them for giving him that sense of family that he'd always lacked. It was just that between decorating the house and helping wrap presents or baking cookies with Mama Laughlin, playing outside in the snow with the little ones, or sneaking down to the basement for a glass of scotch and a moment's respite from the chaos with Uncle Ron, the time Hawk actually spent with Tim was a little lacking.
At the end of the day, exhausted from the chores and the chaos, they'd tumble into bed and be fast asleep before their heads even touched the pillow. No time or energy for anything more than a quick peck on the lips and a yawned "goodnight".
This year had been particularly hard, Tim having come up a week early to attend a seminar and had stayed after it ended. And Hawk had been back in Washington, counting down the days until his holiday from work began. He always missed Tim when they were parted, but it seemed especially cruel to be parted from him during the happiest time of the year.
So, when Hawk saw a chance for them both to snatch a precious few moments alone together, he took it.
Mama Laughlin - who, despite possessing the lovely given name of Rosemary, insisted her children's partners called her "Ma" with the same gentle stubborness as Grandma Laughlin's refusal to answer to anything but Granny among family - was baking a batch or two of cookies to hand out after church tomorrow.
Hawk sat at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea in his hands, and watched Mama Laughlin work. She'd waved away his offers to help (while cooking was a talent of his, his baking was best left unmentioned, and unfortunately Rosemary Laughlin had witnessed that firsthand) and had conscripted poor Maggie when she'd come in to grab a mince pie. So, now the two women his angel loved most were bustling about, and Hawk got to enjoy the show.
Normally, with the house this still, Hawk would be with Tim, enticing him to cuddle a bit on the couch while another rerun of It's A Wonderful Life played on the television. Alas, the youngest generation had snuck in first, Tim called in to read them to sleep. Repeats of T'was The Night Before Christmas and Dr Seuss' Christmas classic lulling them off to slumber.
Maggie and her mother moved about the kitchen with a flawless grace, the actions so comfortable they spoke of doing exactly this for years. Like a well rehearsed routine - the kind Hawk took Tim to see every December 27 at Radio City Music Hall.
An absent kiss was dropped on top of Hawk's head, Tim slipping onto the chair beside him. "They're finally asleep," Tim announced, voice a little hoarse after God only knew how many stories.
"Thank you," Rosemary smiled, bestowing the sunny smile both Maggie and Tim had inherited on her son. "We'll only have to worry about your father and Ronald pinching the cookies before they're cool."
Tim grabbed the mug in Hawk's hands, drinking half his tea in several long swallows. With his soft brown eyes sparkling, he looked at his mother and sister. "Are you making peanut butter cookies?"
In the way common to loving older sisters the world over, Maggie turned and fixed her brother with a judgemental stare. "Really, Timothy? Are you five?"
"It's Christmas," Tim pouted, deploying the sad, puppy eyes that Hawk had never been able to resist.
Hawk looked away, his resolve crumbling and he wasn't even on the receiving end of the look.
If Marcus were there to see it, his best friend would roll his eyes and cast aspersions on Hawk's ability to manipulate the whims of government. But, this was Tim, and Hawk defied anyone to deny Tim Laughlin anything that was in their power to give. His Skippy was just one of those people who deserved the world.
"I'd make you some, Timmy," Rosemary said, fondness bringing the light Irish lilt out in her voice. "But we're out of peanut butter."
The shocked looks both Maggie and Tim sent to their mother would have been comical under any other circumstances. They way their eyes blew wide, their mouths dropped open, the near simultaneous gasps that left their lips. If Hawk were a man brave enough to risk Maggie Laughlin's wrath, he would have taken a photograph to preserve the moment for posterity.
Hawk might quip that it was the unofficial eleventh commandment of the Laughlin household - Thou shalt never be without thine peanut butter. But he knew better than to say anything. He didn't much fancy sleeping on the couch this Christmas — he spent precious little time with Tim this week as it was.
And this was an opportunity, gift-wrapped and dropped straight into his lap.
"Tim and I can go get the peanut butter, Ma," Hawk offered, ignoring the way Maggie was smirking at him.
In contrast to her daughter's smirk, Rosemary's smile was soft and fond. A mirror of Tim's. "If I told you there was no need, you wouldn't listen, would you?"
"It's the least I can do," Hawk replied, just charming enough that it didn't damage the sincerity. "Since I'm banned from baking and Skippy wants your famous peanut butter cookies."
In years before, Rosemary might have told him to take some money from the cup on the mantelpiece. Now she flashed a grateful smile and shooed him off with a floury hand.
Maggie, on the other hand, raised her eyebrow, staring them down. "Creamy."
Hawk loved Tim and would never deny him his choice in peanut butter variety, but there was only one clear winner for the best. "Obviously."
Tim let Hawk lead him from the kitchen, knowing better than to protest when volunteered for a task.
"I like chunky," Tim muttered, the argument long worn between Hawk and Tim and Tim and Maggie.
"Nobody puts chunky peanut butter in cookies, Tim," Maggie called, Hawk's hand at the small of his back the only thing that stopped Tim from turning around and retorting to his sister.
Well, that and…
"If you're good, I'll buy you a cocoa."
Hawk did, in fact, buy Tim a cocoa, stopping at a drive through window on the way to the second closest of the local shops. The closest never stocked Hawk's preferred brand, and he got to keep Tim all to himself for longer this way.
Tim drank his cocoa as they wandered the aisles of the store, picking up peanut butter and a few other necessities Maggie had texted Tim the reminder that they needed. Though his hands were occupied with the shopping, Hawk wished he could reach out and take Tim's hand — the perfect reminder that his angel really was there beside him and not otherwise claimed as the most in-demand member of the visiting family.
He was right beside him, but Hawk missed him. Missed being able to shut the world out, curl into his arms and just be. Missed the time that was theirs and theirs alone - not sex even, just that simple intimacy of kissing the man he loved. Missed, selfishly, being the sole recipient of Tim's love and attention. Hawk had never pretended not to be a selfish man, and in love he was even more so. He wanted Tim with him every waking moment - unable to truly be content unless his angel was there.
Tim only really saw his family but once a year, and Hawk would never begrudge him or them their time together. He just missed him.
Tim turned to him, eyes a more perfect liquid chocolate than the cocoa still clinging to his lips. A frown crinkled his forehead, deepening the crease above his nose. He didn't speak, simply reaching for the chips that Maggie's husband liked to snack on with his lunch. Hawk held out the basket for Tim to put them in, accepting Tim's soft, loving smile as his due.
While Tim examined the aisle of baking supplies for anything they might have forgotten for tomorrow's cookie decorating contest, Hawk slipped away and stocked up on a few more bottles of milk. He had never met another family who went through so many bottles of milk on any given day.
They got through the rest of the shopping quickly, Tim lifting the car keys from Hawk's jeans pocket while Hawk waited in the line to pay.
Together, they maneuvered the groceries into the trunk of the car, still half full of books and toys they were donating to the church and the children who needed them tomorrow after midnight mass. It was nice. Quietly domestic in the way Hawk had long since grown to love with his angel.
Tim, smelling like Christmas spices and cocoa, pressed a kiss to his cheek as Hawk shut the lid of the trunk. With a smile Hawk would never be able to resist, Tim nodded him into not Hawk's preferred driver's seat, but the empty stretch of the backseat. It smelled a bit like Bruno, Maggie's husband Tom's Irish wolfhound, but more so like Frankie's scents (he'd developed a minorly successful perfume line during lockdown) which Tim helped transport when Marcus was away on his book tours.
Instead of climbing in with him (Hawk had never been averse to a little light making out in a grocery store parking lot, or the parking lot of his homophobic father's private country club for that matter), Tim slipped into the drivers seat and navigated the later night traffic with an ease that could only be born into a Staten Island native.
The mellow Christmas jazz drifting through the speakers let Hawk relax. Trusting, as always, that Tim would get them where they needed to go. He didn't have to be in control all the time, not when he had Tim.
The car stopped moving, but the music continued; peaceful and still. Blinking his eyes open, Hawk looked through the windshield, something warm glowing in his chest as he recognised where they were.
Hawk still remembered the first time Tim had driven him here. It was their second Christmas out here and, having been together for three years by that point, the Laughlins had more than accepted Hawk as a permanent fixture in their lives. Meaning, of course, that both Hawk and Tim felt free enough to slip away for a drive together without more than a teasing smirk from Maggie. Tim had blushed so sweetly and called it Staten Island's lover's lane. Unobtrustive, out of the way, and possessing the best view anywhere on the island - as long as Tim was there.
"Skippy," Hawk began, too loving to be the tease he'd originally intended. Quite how Hawk was going to finish, even he wasn't sure.
Tim gracelessly flopped through the gap between the front seats, landing half on Hawk and half on the upholstery. His knee dug awkwardly into Hawk's thigh, but Hawk didn't care. He wrapped both his arms around Tim, pulling him close to him, holding him tighter and tighter still.
Hawk buried his nose in Tim's hair, breathing in the scent of his shampoo - the lightly fruity, vaguely gingery scent that filled their bathroom after every shower. The scent that had clung to Tim's pillow when Hawk had awoken that morning.
Tim nuzzled in against Hawk's neck, a soft moan breathed against his skin. "I've missed you," he whispered, wriggling as close to Hawk as he could get.
Warmth tingled along every place their bodies touched - as if everything inside both of them was saying "hello, I'm here. It's okay, we're home now".
"I missed you too, Skippy," Hawk murmured, barely audible even to his own ears.
Tim raised his head, his hand coming to rest against Hawk's cheek. For a perfect moment, they stayed just like that - staring into the other's eyes, caught on the precipice of something more. Hawk's arms tight around Tim, Tim's thumb stroking over his cheek - no room for anything but the love they shared, filling them as completely as it ever had.
When their lips finally met, it felt right. As kissing Tim always did. Both of them sunk into the moment, sighing little moans into the other's mouth. Hawk slipped one hand between Tim's shirt and his jumper, tracing patterns along the line of his back, spreading his fingers wide and holding Tim to him.
Tim used the hand on Hawks cheek to tilt his head slightly, deepening the kiss but keeping it as soft and sweet as any they'd shared. Hawk nipped playfully at Tim's bottom lip, Tim breaking the kiss to grin and rub their noses together before diving in for another kiss.
It wasn't about heat or passion, thoughts of sex weren't on their minds right now. It was simply about them. The intimacy of their connection, about finally getting to just be together with no one else demanding anything of them. Just the two of them and the love they shared, finding expression in it in a way they'd had precious little time to do lately.
A little stretch of time later found them curled together on the backseat of the car like they were sharing their couch at home, snuggled close to let the music wash over them. Hawk's jazzy playlist still drifted from the speakers, some old classic whose lyrics would speak of being home for the holidays and all the love that entailed. Tim hummed along, his chest rumbling with the lilting sound. Head pillowed on Tim's shoulder, Hawk had his eyes closed, content beyond words to just exist in the moment with Tim.
It couldn't last, they both knew it couldn't. Maggie and Rosemary were waiting for the supplies and the car's battery wouldn't last forever. And to say nothing of the fact that tomorrow was Christmas Eve and usually the busiest day of their stay in Staten Island. But it was all the more perfect for the impermanence.
When the smooth jazz turned to Judy Garland, Hawk took it as the sign it was to let their bubble fade. Meet Me In St Louis was one of Rosemary's favourite movies, and one she shared with the family every December without fail. He looked up at Tim and shrugged his free shoulder.
Tim nodded, a little sigh leaving his lips, but he wasn't that put out. "Back to the chaos."
Much as they both knew they wouldn't have it any other way (even if they did have to sneak away sometimes for their own sanity), Hawk couldn't resist teasing. "What do you think about a destination Christmas next year?"
Tim laughed, his eyes sparkling as he leaned in for one final kiss. Just a brush of his lips over Hawk's. "You'll break Uncle Ronald's heart."
Hawk tsked, unbothered to hide his grin. "Heaven forbid, Skippy."
Tim shook his head, squeezing Hawk's knee lightly before braving the short trek from backseat door to driver's seat. Hawk slipped out after him, folding himself into the passenger's seat with only a slight adjustment of the heater grills so they pointed at Tim.
Tim's sweet smile said Hawk's unconscious gesture hadn't gone unnoticed. "Home?"
Hawk nodded, thinking not of their cozy apartment in Washington, but of the warmth and craziness that they came to at the end of every year. "Home."
Faint murmurs of It's A Wonderful Life greeted them as they carried their shopping bags in through the front door. Uncle Ronald, Tim's father Paul, Tom, and Grandma Laughlin gathered in front of the television to watch (or nap to) the classic. The loveseat was still available, Hawk thinking longingly of sinking into it with Tim, pulling a blanket over them and having a serious nap to recover enough energy for the climb upstairs to bed. But festive duty drew them on.
Maggie and Rosemary were sitting at the kitchen table, the supplies for the peanut butter cookies out behind them on the counter. Mugs of cocoa steamed merrily in front of them, Christmas carols playing just loud enough to be heard.
Maggie's shrewd eyes snapped up as they entered, a frown (one part worry, two parts I know what you did) pulling at her lips. "Where have you been?"
Tim's cheeks, already pink from the cold, deepened in hue. His mouth worked for a few moments - inability to lie even worse around his mother and sister.
Hawk put the milk away in the fridge, shaking his head fondly at Tim. "We had to go to the other shop," he explained, a truth even if it wasn't the whole of it.
Rosemary's forehead creased, just like her son's. "They can't be out of food already," she said, probably making a mental note to send all the family to the next closest shop.
"We didn't go there, Ma," Tim replied, always quick to put her worries at ease.
"They never stock the right peanut butter," Hawk explained, lifting the jar of Skippy they'd bought in explanation.
"Skippy?" Maggie sighed, judgement in her voice, but not unkindly so.
Tim blushed again, stopping just short of scuffing his shoe into the floor. "Hawk only buys Skippy."
Hawk ignored Maggie's growing smirk, smiling in a far too besotted fashion at Tim. "Why would I ever want anything else?"
Rosemary smiled, both happy and exasperated as most people tended to be when Hawk and Tim were being nauseating. "Out you go," she shooed, huffing playfully when Tim kissed her cheek. "Won't get anything done with you two underfoot."
"We can help," Hawk offered, feeling a little guilty at the work the Laughlin women still had to do.
With eerily similar glares, both Maggie and Rosemary put paid to that idea.
"Get an early night," Rosemary insisted, Maggie busying herself with measuring out dry ingredients. "When it takes ninety minutes to buy milk and peanut butter, I know a couple needs their alone time."
Maggie snorted, covering the sound in a cough.
Tim blushed brighter than a fire engine. "We only cuddled, Ma!"
"Yes, and I'd quite like to do it some more, angel," Hawk muttered, purposely just loud enough to be heard.
Tim looked between Hawk and Rosemary, gratifyingly torn between protesting the innocence of their detour and leaving the implications be and going upstairs with Hawk.
A split second later, he had hold of Hawk's hand and was towing him out of the room with a cheery "goodnight" called to anyone within earshot.
Hawk called his own goodnights, hurried upstairs to the comfortable bed awaiting them. All the promise of a night spent in Tim's arms - and maybe a little light kissing to see in Christmas Eve - before them. After all, what else were they supposed to do with only two more sleeps until Christmas?