[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: 2025-11-25 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. ]