[ Tim almost doesn’t notice when Hawk approaches. It’s not that he wants to ignore him, anything but that! It’s just that there’s so much to do, so many things to plan, recipes for Christmas cookies that have to be picked out and test run, gifts to figure out. What does one get for an immortal vampire that doesn’t eat real food or get cold? Or a king that he doesn’t particularly like in the first place?
He’s trying to figure these things out when Hawk approaches, staring down at a notepad full of brainstorming ideas while tapping the clicky end of a pen against his lower lip. It takes him a second to tear his eyes away and towards Hawk, but he can’t hide his smile the second he does. The impulse sparks to invite him into bed to warm up, breathe hot onto the tip of his nose until it’s no longer pink, but-- ]
A Christmas tree?
[ Eyes lighting up, even if he sounds somewhat incredulous. It’ll be some labor to get it through the grounds and up three floors...but he springs up from the bed anyway, flitting off to the closet to find a hat. ]
How high is this ceiling? Eight feet? Should we bring a measuring tape?
A Christmas tree. Gonna have to get housekeeping to get rid of all the pine needles when we're through. I think it'll be worth the headache though.
[hawk barely restrains the laugh at seeing tim flit around the room with sudden enthusiasm, bounding around like an overzealous puppy that's gotten the zoomies. it's ridiculously endearing, the kind of thing he could have only hoped for in an extended night or even several days of christmas celebrating if they had the luxury to do so back in dc. there's plenty he remembers from that night - wants to re-enact here, even if he can't give tim the one fantasy he'd asked for back then, either.
by the time tim pulls out the hat, hawk stares at him with a deadpan for a few seconds longer than necessary before he does burst out with a genuine beat of laughter, running a hand over his face to will it away. at least, before both hands come to the side of tim's face, nosing in to rub the cold, reddened tip of his own against tim's warm one with a soft, butterfly kiss and then steal a real one, chaste at his lips.]
Cute. Bundle up - it's fucking freezing out there.
[there's a pause while he glances up at the ceiling, squinting in approximation.]
No measuring tape. Eight feet should be fine. Nine's pushing it. C'mon.
[he takes tim's hand without waiting for him to agree, tugging him back through the manor and outside to start the trek to the forest. it's frigid just as promised, but there's no snow on the ground yet to impede where he'd left an axe and a small firepit to start up for tim to sit down and...well, watch him put on a show. stay warm.]
Get a load of this guy, huh?
[it's a fine specimen, but tim has a better eye for the decor that'll need to envelop it more than he does.]
[ Tim doesn’t need to be told twice to bundle up, not when he’s been eagerly waiting for the chance to from the first time he spotted the leaves change. He’s got a scarf and mittens and a man who looks at him like he’s the one who’s hung the stars in the sky ready to chop down a tree for him. The green, earthy fragrance fills the room, the giggling, flirty placement of cold hands on warm skin quickly turns into soft lovemaking and tinsel-hanging in the afterglow.
It’s not the same fantasy he’d had last year. It’s better than that, finally having a home with someone he loves, and who loves him back despite him constantly blaring Christmas music and insisting on keeping the tree lights on at all hours of the day. A weekend getaway seemed far-fetched enough, it was only on his loneliest nights that he’d ever dared to dream of something so domestic, so normal, just like they’re any other couple. After spending so long hiding, Tim’s learned to find romance in the mundane. It’s shaping up to be a perfect holiday.
Until tragedy strikes. Knowing that it’s temporary doesn’t make it any less horrible, nor does being almost used to it, after werewolf and Hawk and everything else. Keeping Aemond from self-destructing has been a full-time job, one he feels duty-bound to and horribly inadequate at all at once. Tim is exhausted and weary and stress-baking by the time Christmas Eve rolls around, recruiting Hawk’s help to get cookies packaged into neat little tins for delivery, and falls asleep in his arms still smelling like sugar and warm butter.
He had promised, after all, that Christmas would be Hawk’s. ]
Where are you taking me?
[ It really could be anywhere, the way the rooms shift around so much, he thinks, reaching out to take Hawk’s hand, as if he’ll get lost without it. There’s more color on his face, a wider smile on his lips than there’s been in a week – even in the face of all this chaos, it’s hard to stay upset on Christmas Day, when Hawk has some big surprise for him that requires taking him across the manor. His own gift for Hawk burns a hole in his pocket, more sentimental than grand – or whatever this is meant to be. ]
[christmas last year hadn't even happened on christmas. it had been two nights before, not even christmas eve, lest they get stuck in the hellish traffic and the rest of the world carrying on to see friends, family, and lovers they were allowed. this year hawk's done everything in his power to make it the perfect season. helping him with his christmas presents, cutting down that tree and letting him get tinsel over every inch of the room after, letting him play those songs until hawk thought they might have bored a hole in his skull for how much the lyrics were now ingrained between the folds of it - anything just to see him smile and revel in the shared intimacy they'd so long been denied.
alicent's death had been an ugly wrench tossed into the mechanism of the tim laughlin express, grinding him to a halt and forcing him to drop everything in favor of tending to her sons. hawk's supported where he can, but selfishly it's given him the opportunity to finish the last touches on this gift. he supposes it's more like a grand gesture in some ways, but it's the thought that counts. it'll be better than a blowjob and some cufflinks anyway, or so he hopes.
the day had started by waking him up with soft kisses, humming fucking silver bells of all things against his neck while letting him know good st. nick had a few surprises for them today. after breakfast he'd dragged tim to the theater, which had been reserved only for them complete with popcorn and soda and blankets. the lights were dimmed to run last year's macy's day parade, featuring none other than the rockette's in new york city.
i know we can't be there, but i thought it was the closest thing. you like it?
and then nerves eat at him throughout lunch and merriment and delivering tim's gifts and christmas spirit - waiting for the sun to creep lower and lower in the horizon before it hits the right line to make hawk lean over and murmur in his ear that it's time for the last part of his gift. he tells hawk to put on a coat, knowing they'll have to trudge out through the frozen grounds after they cross to the opposite wing.]
Somewhere special. Ready?
[it's not until they get to the exit that hawk turns, something gentle and a little reserved in the line of his jaw and the glimmer of hope in his eyes. one of his ties is pulled out of a pocket, extended not for him to hold, but to put over tim's line of vision so he can't see where they're going.]
D'you trust me?
[and as long as he does, he'll carefully loop the silk over his eyes and gently rest hands against his waist, guiding him past a few stragglers towards the outskirts before pushing outside into the cold with a soft easy, take a step into the grass. he switches to lacing his fingers through tim's hand and pulling him along the worn but familiar path towards the chapel, wondering if he'll still recognize it despite his lack of use of it lately.
the wood's been restained: a rich mahogany over dull brown. all the windows polished: glass planes replaced where they'd been shattered. blood's been scrubbed from the stone, and the shabby pieces of wood that had been falling apart have been re-sanded with new bark and made fresh. the candelabras have all been swapped for something less gothic and gloomy in nature: now bright gold, gilded and bright. he's even added a few lights to the low, beamed ceilings, letting it wash over as if god himself thought to shine down upon the place. and no, he's not into any of that whoo-whoo shit, but someone at the fair had told him sage was good for burning away demons and evil spirits attached to a place. it's been burned, along with fresh incense to make for an unfamiliar but clean scent now.
will it be enough? to forget about the bloodshed and the suffering wrought here?
he hopes so, exhaling lightly as he leads tim inside and carefully down the center of the pews right up to the altar as he stands behind his lover and puts both hands on his shoulders.]
You've been busy...so have I.
[hawk's fingers lift, threading through tim's soft chestnut hair and tugging the tie away to slip to the floor.]
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timeasmymeasure
Re: early december
Date: 2024-12-13 07:09 pm (UTC)He’s trying to figure these things out when Hawk approaches, staring down at a notepad full of brainstorming ideas while tapping the clicky end of a pen against his lower lip. It takes him a second to tear his eyes away and towards Hawk, but he can’t hide his smile the second he does. The impulse sparks to invite him into bed to warm up, breathe hot onto the tip of his nose until it’s no longer pink, but-- ]
A Christmas tree?
[ Eyes lighting up, even if he sounds somewhat incredulous. It’ll be some labor to get it through the grounds and up three floors...but he springs up from the bed anyway, flitting off to the closet to find a hat. ]
How high is this ceiling? Eight feet? Should we bring a measuring tape?
[ He chooses a ridiculous one. ]
no subject
Date: 2024-12-19 03:09 am (UTC)[hawk barely restrains the laugh at seeing tim flit around the room with sudden enthusiasm, bounding around like an overzealous puppy that's gotten the zoomies. it's ridiculously endearing, the kind of thing he could have only hoped for in an extended night or even several days of christmas celebrating if they had the luxury to do so back in dc. there's plenty he remembers from that night - wants to re-enact here, even if he can't give tim the one fantasy he'd asked for back then, either.
by the time tim pulls out the hat, hawk stares at him with a deadpan for a few seconds longer than necessary before he does burst out with a genuine beat of laughter, running a hand over his face to will it away. at least, before both hands come to the side of tim's face, nosing in to rub the cold, reddened tip of his own against tim's warm one with a soft, butterfly kiss and then steal a real one, chaste at his lips.]
Cute. Bundle up - it's fucking freezing out there.
[there's a pause while he glances up at the ceiling, squinting in approximation.]
No measuring tape. Eight feet should be fine. Nine's pushing it. C'mon.
[he takes tim's hand without waiting for him to agree, tugging him back through the manor and outside to start the trek to the forest. it's frigid just as promised, but there's no snow on the ground yet to impede where he'd left an axe and a small firepit to start up for tim to sit down and...well, watch him put on a show. stay warm.]
Get a load of this guy, huh?
[it's a fine specimen, but tim has a better eye for the decor that'll need to envelop it more than he does.]
no subject
Date: 2024-12-26 07:41 pm (UTC)It’s not the same fantasy he’d had last year. It’s better than that, finally having a home with someone he loves, and who loves him back despite him constantly blaring Christmas music and insisting on keeping the tree lights on at all hours of the day. A weekend getaway seemed far-fetched enough, it was only on his loneliest nights that he’d ever dared to dream of something so domestic, so normal, just like they’re any other couple. After spending so long hiding, Tim’s learned to find romance in the mundane. It’s shaping up to be a perfect holiday.
Until tragedy strikes. Knowing that it’s temporary doesn’t make it any less horrible, nor does being almost used to it, after werewolf and Hawk and everything else. Keeping Aemond from self-destructing has been a full-time job, one he feels duty-bound to and horribly inadequate at all at once. Tim is exhausted and weary and stress-baking by the time Christmas Eve rolls around, recruiting Hawk’s help to get cookies packaged into neat little tins for delivery, and falls asleep in his arms still smelling like sugar and warm butter.
He had promised, after all, that Christmas would be Hawk’s. ]
Where are you taking me?
[ It really could be anywhere, the way the rooms shift around so much, he thinks, reaching out to take Hawk’s hand, as if he’ll get lost without it. There’s more color on his face, a wider smile on his lips than there’s been in a week – even in the face of all this chaos, it’s hard to stay upset on Christmas Day, when Hawk has some big surprise for him that requires taking him across the manor. His own gift for Hawk burns a hole in his pocket, more sentimental than grand – or whatever this is meant to be. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-01-01 11:46 pm (UTC)alicent's death had been an ugly wrench tossed into the mechanism of the tim laughlin express, grinding him to a halt and forcing him to drop everything in favor of tending to her sons. hawk's supported where he can, but selfishly it's given him the opportunity to finish the last touches on this gift. he supposes it's more like a grand gesture in some ways, but it's the thought that counts. it'll be better than a blowjob and some cufflinks anyway, or so he hopes.
the day had started by waking him up with soft kisses, humming fucking silver bells of all things against his neck while letting him know good st. nick had a few surprises for them today. after breakfast he'd dragged tim to the theater, which had been reserved only for them complete with popcorn and soda and blankets. the lights were dimmed to run last year's macy's day parade, featuring none other than the rockette's in new york city.
i know we can't be there, but i thought it was the closest thing. you like it?
and then nerves eat at him throughout lunch and merriment and delivering tim's gifts and christmas spirit - waiting for the sun to creep lower and lower in the horizon before it hits the right line to make hawk lean over and murmur in his ear that it's time for the last part of his gift. he tells hawk to put on a coat, knowing they'll have to trudge out through the frozen grounds after they cross to the opposite wing.]
Somewhere special. Ready?
[it's not until they get to the exit that hawk turns, something gentle and a little reserved in the line of his jaw and the glimmer of hope in his eyes. one of his ties is pulled out of a pocket, extended not for him to hold, but to put over tim's line of vision so he can't see where they're going.]
D'you trust me?
[and as long as he does, he'll carefully loop the silk over his eyes and gently rest hands against his waist, guiding him past a few stragglers towards the outskirts before pushing outside into the cold with a soft easy, take a step into the grass. he switches to lacing his fingers through tim's hand and pulling him along the worn but familiar path towards the chapel, wondering if he'll still recognize it despite his lack of use of it lately.
the wood's been restained: a rich mahogany over dull brown. all the windows polished: glass planes replaced where they'd been shattered. blood's been scrubbed from the stone, and the shabby pieces of wood that had been falling apart have been re-sanded with new bark and made fresh. the candelabras have all been swapped for something less gothic and gloomy in nature: now bright gold, gilded and bright. he's even added a few lights to the low, beamed ceilings, letting it wash over as if god himself thought to shine down upon the place. and no, he's not into any of that whoo-whoo shit, but someone at the fair had told him sage was good for burning away demons and evil spirits attached to a place. it's been burned, along with fresh incense to make for an unfamiliar but clean scent now.
will it be enough? to forget about the bloodshed and the suffering wrought here?
he hopes so, exhaling lightly as he leads tim inside and carefully down the center of the pews right up to the altar as he stands behind his lover and puts both hands on his shoulders.]
You've been busy...so have I.
[hawk's fingers lift, threading through tim's soft chestnut hair and tugging the tie away to slip to the floor.]