[ He drinks greedily, as if he too had spent forty days wandering the desert before his punishment, gulping until cool water runs down his chin and he nods, signaling to Hawk that he can pull away. But not too much. Tim’s eyes are blurred with blood, tears, and run of the mill poor eyesight, but the shape of Hawk, his worried voice, are things he can focus on besides the pain. It screams in his extremities, but it sends shockwaves through the rest of his body, heart pounding through the whole of him. It could be meditative if it weren’t so much agony. ]
You shouldn’t...I’ll be fine. [ Tim is very much not fine, but he doubts Hawk’s qualifications to be giving out opiates. He wouldn’t take it from Harry either, if he weren’t a medical professional. Even that, he only does to soothe his worry. Christ didn’t have the luxury of morphine, why should he? ] Don't call him. He wants to get Stephen involved.
[ Which is even worse. ]
Just...stay. [ Regretting it as soon as it comes out, he rushes, strained and grunting, to add a qualifier. ] To make sure I don’t go into shock.
[ His arm moves. But not away. Stretching out, so he can lay his hands gently in his lap, but his elbow brushes Hawk. The gentle touch gives him something to think about that isn’t spike spike thorn spear spike spike, something warm and loving instead of sharp and cold. It isn’t something he can ask for, not from Hawk – but he can use his weak, shaking, sweat-drenched state as an excuse not to refuse it. ]
[hawk pulls out his pocket square, setting the water down once he's sure tim is finished with it and dabbing lightly at his chin. he wants to smooth back his hair, to run his fingers through it and try to give him something else to focus on - but he knows the illusion will just conflate it with pain. so maybe it's stupid, the way he lifts the same pocket square in hand and dabs gently at each of tim's eyes, as if he might wipe away the blood that tim's brain thinks is soundly present even though his skin is pale and utterly untouched. anything would help him feel useful right now, if he could be.]
Stephen? What does he have to do with it? He used to be a doctor, but he isn't anymore. An accident, I think.
[his brows knit together with concern, his newfound dislike for the man rankling under his skin at the idea that somehow he'd be involved in something this intimate with tim. but then he realizes that's exactly the kind of thing tim would scold him for - if it could help someone else, he'd want to hear him out, even in this case he doesn't want to help himself. hawk sighs, setting the now-damp kerchief down on the dresser and scooting in closer.
there's a soft inhale at being asked to stay now, even if it's punctuated with a caveat - justification. it might as well be a lance to the heart, and he's grateful tim's eyes are squeezed shut briefly so he doesn't see the way it makes his expression crumple for the briefest moment.]
Just hang on a little longer, Skip. You're - we'll get through this, okay?
[his gaze shifts down to the elbow nudging in closer, and even if it's an accident, he's choosing to take it as invitation to run his fingers more certainly along the skin, to squeeze gently and stroke and smooth and do his damndest to distract.]
How many times? Is it - like me and Embry? Once a month? Or more?
[ Stephen has nothing to do with it, because he won't be invited. He doesn't need him.
Maybe it is stupid, but if he feels like he's bleeding, and it looks to him like he's bleeding, then Hawk's attentions look and feel like helping. As much as he bites and snaps and tells anyone who will listen that he doesn't need Hawk anymore, that he doesn't even want him and he's perfectly happy the way things are, he does want the help. This is what he wants every time, before it happens. For Hawk to show up for him the way he needs. ]
About once a month, yeah. I'm... [ He swallows hard, woozy now from blood loss. He stops himself this time from telling Hawk he's got it all over him, because he knows he doesn't, that when he opens his eyes tomorrow that crisp white shirt will still be pristine. ] I think--
[ Tim can't deny it anymore. Two or three is a coincidence, but four? ]
I'm always thinking about you. Upset over you. When this happens.
[ Softly enough that Hawk might believe it isn't meant to be a jab, even if it stings like one. ]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2025-11-24 05:58 pm (UTC)You shouldn’t...I’ll be fine. [ Tim is very much not fine, but he doubts Hawk’s qualifications to be giving out opiates. He wouldn’t take it from Harry either, if he weren’t a medical professional. Even that, he only does to soothe his worry. Christ didn’t have the luxury of morphine, why should he? ] Don't call him. He wants to get Stephen involved.
[ Which is even worse. ]
Just...stay. [ Regretting it as soon as it comes out, he rushes, strained and grunting, to add a qualifier. ] To make sure I don’t go into shock.
[ His arm moves. But not away. Stretching out, so he can lay his hands gently in his lap, but his elbow brushes Hawk. The gentle touch gives him something to think about that isn’t spike spike thorn spear spike spike, something warm and loving instead of sharp and cold. It isn’t something he can ask for, not from Hawk – but he can use his weak, shaking, sweat-drenched state as an excuse not to refuse it. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-11-25 01:52 am (UTC)[hawk pulls out his pocket square, setting the water down once he's sure tim is finished with it and dabbing lightly at his chin. he wants to smooth back his hair, to run his fingers through it and try to give him something else to focus on - but he knows the illusion will just conflate it with pain. so maybe it's stupid, the way he lifts the same pocket square in hand and dabs gently at each of tim's eyes, as if he might wipe away the blood that tim's brain thinks is soundly present even though his skin is pale and utterly untouched. anything would help him feel useful right now, if he could be.]
Stephen? What does he have to do with it? He used to be a doctor, but he isn't anymore. An accident, I think.
[his brows knit together with concern, his newfound dislike for the man rankling under his skin at the idea that somehow he'd be involved in something this intimate with tim. but then he realizes that's exactly the kind of thing tim would scold him for - if it could help someone else, he'd want to hear him out, even in this case he doesn't want to help himself. hawk sighs, setting the now-damp kerchief down on the dresser and scooting in closer.
there's a soft inhale at being asked to stay now, even if it's punctuated with a caveat - justification. it might as well be a lance to the heart, and he's grateful tim's eyes are squeezed shut briefly so he doesn't see the way it makes his expression crumple for the briefest moment.]
Just hang on a little longer, Skip. You're - we'll get through this, okay?
[his gaze shifts down to the elbow nudging in closer, and even if it's an accident, he's choosing to take it as invitation to run his fingers more certainly along the skin, to squeeze gently and stroke and smooth and do his damndest to distract.]
How many times? Is it - like me and Embry? Once a month? Or more?
no subject
Date: 2025-11-25 02:58 am (UTC)Nothing.
[ Stephen has nothing to do with it, because he won't be invited. He doesn't need him.
Maybe it is stupid, but if he feels like he's bleeding, and it looks to him like he's bleeding, then Hawk's attentions look and feel like helping. As much as he bites and snaps and tells anyone who will listen that he doesn't need Hawk anymore, that he doesn't even want him and he's perfectly happy the way things are, he does want the help. This is what he wants every time, before it happens. For Hawk to show up for him the way he needs. ]
About once a month, yeah. I'm... [ He swallows hard, woozy now from blood loss. He stops himself this time from telling Hawk he's got it all over him, because he knows he doesn't, that when he opens his eyes tomorrow that crisp white shirt will still be pristine. ] I think--
[ Tim can't deny it anymore. Two or three is a coincidence, but four? ]
I'm always thinking about you. Upset over you. When this happens.
[ Softly enough that Hawk might believe it isn't meant to be a jab, even if it stings like one. ]