Chapter Text
Child’s pose. Supposed to calm the body, calm the nervous system, help with sleep.
Tim’s forehead rested against the hotel carpet, arms stretched out in front of him while his knees pressed tight against his stomach.
He can’t sleep to save his life. Which, honestly, it kind of does, Tim thinks bitterly. His life very much depends on him sleeping.
With a sigh, he turns his head, cheek dragging against the carpet instead. Should he even be doing this? God knows how many people have done God knows what on this floor, and now he’s rubbing his face on it.
But he needs to sleep.
It’s four in the morning. Four-oh-one, technically. He’s been checking his watch over and over, trying to find peace while literally watching his remaining hours disappear.
He woke up an hour ago convinced it had to be seven already, fully ready to start the day. Of course it wasn’t seven. It never is when he actually needs it to be.
“Skippy?”
Tim freezes in place. Tenses instinctively.
“Hm?”
“What are you doing?” Hawk asks, his voice rough with sleep.
“Yoga,” Tim mumbles, cheek still pressed against the carpet.
“Okay,” Hawk says slowly. Tim hears the rustle of bedsheets behind him. “Why now? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Because I can’t sleep,” Tim snaps back a little too sharply, regret arriving almost immediately. “Sorry,” he mutters afterward.
“I mean, I appreciate the view,” Hawk says. “You have a cute ass like this.”
Tim cracks one eye open. Hawk is sitting at the edge of the bed, hair tousled from sleep, smiling at him with that soft, warm expression that somehow always makes Tim feel steadier.
How is he this gorgeous all the time?
“It’s not sexual,” Tim says flatly. “It’s supposed to relax me.”
Hawk laughs quietly. “I know.”
“But it’s not working,” Tim sighs, finally giving up on the pose.
He pushes himself upright slowly and ends up sitting on the carpet like a lost little kid. At least that’s what he feels like. He’s wearing tiny sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt he’s practically drowning in. His legs stick out awkwardly beneath the fabric, and his knobby knees are marked with faint carpet imprints from staying in the position too long.
“Why can’t you sleep?” Hawk asks gently.
Tim shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just... awake.”
Hawk hums softly before reaching out both hands toward him. “Come here. Come back to bed.” His voice stays low and warm. “Not to sleep. Just because it’s more comfortable than the floor.”
Tim groans as he drags himself back onto the bed. Hawk is right. The soft mattress brings instant relief to his aching joints and bones.
“Tell me what’s going on in here,” Hawk says, gently tapping a finger against Tim’s forehead.
Tim shifts around for a moment, trying to find a position that actually feels comfortable enough to stay in.
“It’s nothing,” he sighs.
“Nothing doesn’t look like this,” Hawk says softly.
Tim goes quiet for a beat before letting out a slow breath. “It’s just the usual anxiety.”
“And?”
“Do you really want to hear every pathetic, embarrassing, spiraling overthinking thought running through my brain right now?” Tim asks.
“Yep.” Hawk nods without hesitation. He adjusts his pillow, then opens his arms. “Come here. I’m listening.”
Tim does, of course. He can never really resist Hawk when he’s like this. Or Hawk’s hugs.
“Tell me,” Hawk murmurs again once Tim has settled against him.
“It’s stupid,” Tim sighs. “I just keep worrying that I make everything about me. Even this. Even right now.” He stares down at the blanket twisted beneath his fingers. “What do I actually bring to your life? Am I there for you the way you’re there for me? Or am I just this needy mess who...”
He closes his eyes before the thoughts can fully spiral out of control.
“Stuff like that.”
“If you actually made things about yourself once in a while, you wouldn’t even be here,” Hawk says quietly. “We would’ve stayed home, and you would’ve told Maggie this was too triggering for you. But you didn’t.”
His hand moves slowly up and down Tim’s back.
“You came because Maggie needed you. You’re uncomfortable with the idea of being Ruby’s godfather and legal guardian, and you’re still doing it. For Maggie.” Hawk pauses briefly. “Do you want me to keep going?”
Tim stays silent for a moment. “But I should just be able to do stuff like that. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Maybe not for some people,” Hawk says gently. “But it is for you, and that’s okay.”
He tilts his head slightly, looking down at Tim with sleepy seriousness.
“You care so much. About everything. About everyone. And you get anxious because you’re terrified you won’t meet people’s expectations.” Hawk takes a slow breath. “Tim, you are probably the most caring person I know. You put other people before your own comfort constantly, and then afterward you get all moody and grumpy about it.”
“And then you have to listen to me being grumpy,” Tim adds quietly. “Isn’t that too much?”
“No.” Hawk laughs softly beneath his breath. “It’s cute. You’re cute. And because you apparently need a reminder, I’m going to tell you exactly what you do for me that makes me love you more every single day.”
Tim blinks up at him, briefly getting lost in those deep blue eyes.
“Whenever I’m stuck in a late meeting, I can text you and you answer right away to keep me entertained,” Hawk begins. “When I’ve had a bad day and need to complain, you drop everything and listen. And not just politely either. You actually get invested. You get angry with me, upset with me. Every time.”
His fingers trace slow circles against Tim’s back.
“You’re always trying to fix things. You’re always there for me, Skippy.”
“You do that for me too,” Tim murmurs, trying to make Hawk understand.
But Hawk only smirks softly. “It’s not a competition, Skippy.”
His hand slips into Tim’s hair, brushing it carefully back from his forehead. Then Hawk’s thumb begins to stroke gently across Tim’s eyebrows.
“You are my beautiful, passionate angel,” Hawk continues quietly. “You get excited about making me cappuccino in the morning or helping me cook dinner. You read your favorite lines from books out loud and get me obsessed with stories I didn’t even know I needed.”
His thumb slows, resting lightly against the space between Tim’s eyebrows, smoothing the tension there without even trying.
“I love you very much,” Hawk says, softer now. “So maybe don’t believe everything your brain tells you.”
“I try,” Tim whispers.
Suddenly, he feels heavy with exhaustion. Drowsy in a way he hadn’t managed all night.
“And because we are absolutely not trying to fall asleep,” Hawk says lightly, “let’s talk about tomorrow. We’ll drive back in the afternoon, and by evening we’ll be home.”
“Hm,” Tim hums faintly, his body sinking deeper into the mattress.
“We can get our favorite takeout and just disappear into bed. You’ll be reunited with your favorite pillow.”
“Yes,” Tim murmurs. It’s about all he can manage. He’s already drifting.
“And since we are still definitely not trying to fall asleep,” Hawk continues softly, “I can also remind you how nice our bed is going to feel tomorrow. Our bed. All the familiar noises.” His fingers continue smoothing gently through Tim’s hair. “And there’ll be your favorite tea waiting for you.”
Tim finally lets go.
Sleep takes him all at once, deep and immediate.
The church is cold.
Everything about it feels familiar in that strange childhood-memory way. Tim still knows exactly when to stand, when to kneel, what to say. His body remembers even if the connection itself feels distant now.
And while he follows along automatically, all he can really think about is the tiny rainbow charm beside the cross on his necklace. How much he has changed. How he still believes in God with all his heart, but no longer in the church itself.
His attention drifts instead. He watches his relatives. The obedient ones following every word without hesitation and the others scrolling through social media with their phones hidden low in their laps.
One of Catherine’s kids is asleep across the aisle. The other can barely stay seated for more than thirty seconds.
Aunt Bridget sits rigidly in the front row, head bowed in perfect devotion.
Somewhere farther back, Uncle Ronald and Aunt Beatrice whisper to each other through half the service.
And Uncle Daniel, the priest who only arrived this morning, is asleep. Honestly the most surprising sight of the day.
Somehow they get through it all. Through the baptism itself, the promises, the candle lighting, the water poured over Ruby’s head, which she absolutely hates and loudly informs the entire church about.
The whole thing feels endless.
But when it’s finally over and everyone begins spilling out into the sunlight, the warmth against Tim’s skin feels almost holy.
He brushes a hand over his dark brown pleated trousers, trying to smooth them after all the kneeling and standing. His blue dress shirt is wrinkled too. It leaves him oddly self-conscious, painfully aware of himself all over again.
“We made it,” Maggie whisper-cheers the second the flood of relatives finally moves past them and she gets a moment alone with Tim and Hawk.
“Did you see Daniel asleep?” she asks, giggling.
“Yeah,” Tim snorts. “The ultra-holy side of the family isn’t looking too impressive today.”
“You have both a nun and a priest in the family?” Hawk asks, sounding genuinely stunned.
“Oh, we do.” Maggie grins brightly. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Hawk only laughs and shakes his head, looking unfairly good in elegant black trousers and a crisp white shirt, his tailored jacket hanging loosely over one arm. Once again, he looks like he stepped straight out of a movie or some expensive clothing catalogue.
“What now?” Tim sighs.
“Back to Mom and Dad’s for coffee, brunch, lunch, and whatever else they’ve planned,” Maggie says. “But I want to be on the ferry by the afternoon. Four at the latest.” She emphasizes the last part firmly. “I have work tomorrow, and I still need to organize babysitting, do housework, and generally try to survive the chaos.”
“Speaking of chaos,” Hawk cuts in smoothly, “were you serious about wanting to move closer to D.C.?”
“Of course I was,” Maggie replies immediately. “Maybe not D.C. itself. More Maryland or Virginia. Somewhere closer to you guys.”
Hawk nods slowly. “Okay, because I might have an idea...”
“Maggie,” their mother suddenly interrupts.
“Not now,” Maggie shoots back without even turning around. Then, to Hawk again: “What idea?”
“Margaret Bernadette Laughlin!” their mother nearly shouts across the church steps.
Tim clamps a hand over his mouth.
“She did not just use my middle name,” Maggie gasps in horror.
“Bernadette?” Hawk raises his eyebrows.
“It’s cute,” Tim says immediately. “I always thought it was cute.”
“It is absolutely not,” Maggie says, shaking her head.
“Can I please have your attention?” their mother calls again, sharper this time. “Now.”
“Go,” Hawk says with a quiet chuckle. “I’ll tell you my middle name later so you feel less attacked.”
Once again, Tim finds himself surrounded by family. At least today is a little easier than yesterday. By now he’s gotten used to the noise, the crowd, the glances that linger a second too long.
He immediately pours himself an enormous cup of coffee, grabs a cinnamon roll, and retreats with both to a quieter corner of the backyard.
Nobody has claimed the bench beneath the old tree yet, so Tim decides to make it his temporary hiding spot and observation post.
Of course Hawk notices almost immediately. A fond smile crosses his face before he joins Tim a few minutes later, carrying his own coffee.
“What did you want to tell Maggie?” Tim asks as soon as Hawk sits down beside him.
“Just an idea.” Hawk shrugs lightly. “You know my mom gets lonely sometimes?”
“Yeah,” Tim says with a nod.
“She still keeps my old room exactly the way it was, but lately she’s been talking about getting a roommate.”
Tim blinks at him. “She is?”
Then realization hits.
“Oh my God.”
“Exactly.” Hawk smirks. “There’s a free room in D.C. with a very nice older lady who loves kids and knows exactly what it’s like to raise one as a single mom.”
“Is that why you called her yesterday?”
“It is.” Hawk nods. “I just wanted to ask her first before bringing it up to Maggie. But you know my mom. She got excited immediately and started making plans before I’d even finished explaining.” His smile softens. “I think this is her way of getting to live out the grandma fantasy a little.”
Tim’s gaze drops toward his coffee. “Because we might not...”
“Shh.” Hawk stops him gently. “It has nothing to do with us or our future or whether there are kids in it someday.”
His voice stays calm and steady.
“That’s our decision, and she would never pressure us about it. She’s just genuinely happy about the idea.”
Tim nods, trying to push away the guilty feeling that rises instantly anyway. Estelle Fuller has been more of a mother to him than his own ever managed to be. Always patient. Always kind. The thought of disappointing her twists painfully in his chest.
“I’ll tell Maggie once she gets a second alone.”
“I think she’ll love it.”
“Oh, my mom definitely does,” Hawk says with a laugh. “She immediately started talking about babysitting while Maggie works, and how she wouldn’t mind helping out while she gets settled or builds a career first.”
“Your mother is a saint.”
“She just knows what it’s like,” Hawk says quietly. “Being a single mom. Raising a kid mostly on your own. She understands Maggie better than most people would.” He pauses briefly. “Things were really hard for her after she left my dad.”
“What are you two whispering about?”
Maggie startles both of them by appearing out of nowhere.
“My idea,” Hawk answers immediately.
“I need to hear your middle name first,” Maggie says. “I just survived another conversation with Aunt Bridget, and I desperately need something funny.”
“Zebadiah,” Hawk says without hesitation.
Maggie goes completely still for a second. Then she presses her lips together so tightly they almost disappear.
“Seriously?”
“Do you want to see my ID?” Hawk asks calmly.
That finally breaks her. She bursts into laughter.
“See?” Hawk says with a satisfied nod. “I always win this competition.”
“You absolutely get the crown,” Maggie manages between laughs. “You are the king of terrible middle names.”
Tim just watches them with a small smile. Maggie is laughing so hard that Ruby stares at her in open confusion for a moment before starting to giggle too simply because her mother is.
And suddenly Tim can picture it so clearly.
Maggie and Ruby living with Estelle. Estelle taking Ruby on walks while Maggie works. The two women cooking together in the evenings, watching movies, teasing each other back and forth. They share the same warmth, the same easy humor, the same kindness.
“What was your idea, then?” Maggie asks once she finally calms down again.
So Hawk tells her exactly what he told Tim a few minutes earlier.
Tim watches Maggie’s whole expression change as she listens. Her eyes widen. Her posture straightens. Suddenly she looks awake in a completely different way, full of energy and possibilities.
“Your mother would really do that?” she asks in disbelief.
“You’d honestly be doing her a favor,” Hawk says simply. “She’s already excited just thinking about it.”
“Hawkins...” Maggie shakes her head, visibly overwhelmed. Then she shifts Ruby onto one hip and wraps her free arm around Hawk’s shoulders, rising onto her toes to hug him properly. “You are incredible.”
And yes, Tim thinks, Hawk is incredible.
Warmth spreads through him, low in his stomach. Insistent and unmistakable. Something deep and urgent all at once.
Hawk is incredible.
And he’s his.
Saying goodbye in the Laughlin household takes forever. Suddenly everyone wants to shake Tim’s hand, clap him on the back, or pull him into a hug. They tell him to visit again soon, to stay in touch, to call more often.
And all Tim can think about is how fake it feels.
They don’t actually want him to call. They don’t really expect him to visit. It’s obligation. Ritual. One of those things people say because they’re supposed to say it.
Honestly, Tim considers that the truly rude part. He would rather hear something honest than this performance of politeness.
But eventually, finally, the moment comes. The moment he’s been waiting for, longing for, quietly begging for all weekend.
They get into the car. Their bags are in the trunk. And then they drive away.
Staten Island disappears behind them quickly, fading farther into the distance while Tim aches for home with almost physical intensity.
Hawk is driving again. Tim offered to take over at some point, but Hawk just shushed him gently and told him to relax.
They stop at the same service station as before to grab coffee and snacks. It looks different now that they’re heading home. Less lonely somehow. Less heavy.
And when Hawk hands him an iced latte, the whole world feels brighter again.
Still, the feeling inside him hasn’t gone away. That urgent, restless need that’s been building ever since he watched Hawk and Maggie talking in the garden. Ever since Hawk offered her that future so naturally, so generously.
“You’re quiet,” Hawk says.
They’re wandering slowly around the service station parking lot now, stretching their legs before getting back on the road.
“Just relieved to go home, I guess,” Tim says with a small smile.
“Yeah.” Hawk nods. “This weekend was a lot, huh?”
“It was,” Tim agrees softly. “But also good. Because of you.”
Hawk smiles and takes a sip from his Americano.
And something inside Tim suddenly snaps into place.
There he is. The most beautiful man Tim has ever seen. Kind. Gentle. Patient through all of it. Somehow carrying the entire weekend on his shoulders without complaint.
“Hawk?” Tim stops walking.
Hawk stops too, one eyebrow lifting immediately in question.
Suddenly Tim’s palms are damp. His heart is pounding so hard it almost hurts. He should think this through first. He should plan something. Prepare.
But he has never been good at patience.
When he knows, he knows.
And God, he knows.
“Hawk...” he starts again, voice shaky now, nerves twisting hard in his stomach.
“Hey.” Hawk’s expression softens instantly with concern. “What is it?”
Tim swallows hard. The words are already there, pushing against his chest, desperate to exist outside of him. He can’t hold them back anymore.
“Hawk, will you marry me?” he blurts out.
Hawk goes quiet.
And immediately, Tim starts spiraling.
He just blurted out the biggest, most relationship-altering question of his life in the parking lot of a service station off I-95. He doesn’t even have a ring. He didn’t kneel. There was no plan, no perfect setup, nothing thoughtful or beautiful or cinematic about any of this.
What if he ruined it?
What if...
“Yes,” Hawk says suddenly.
Tim’s eyes snap back to him. Hawk looks impossibly soft standing there beneath the dull parking lot lights, his blue eyes suspiciously bright with tears.
“Yes?” Tim echoes weakly.
“Of course.” Hawk laughs softly, almost breathless. “Of course I’ll marry you, Skippy.”
“I...” Tim’s throat tightens painfully. “I should’ve waited until we got home. This isn’t exactly romantic.”
Hawk glances around once before setting his paper coffee cup down on a nearby bench. Then he steps closer and cups Tim’s face in both hands.
“This is perfectly romantic,” Hawk whispers before kissing him softly. “Because it’s completely you.”
A helpless smile pulls at Tim’s mouth. “Completely me?” he laughs shakily. “Proposing in a service station parking lot?”
“Proposing the second you felt it,” Hawk corrects gently. “That’s the romantic part.”
His thumbs brush lightly against Tim’s cheeks.
“And honestly, if you had waited until we got home, I probably would’ve ruined the surprise anyway by getting something out of my sock drawer.”
Tim stills completely.
“A little box,” Hawk continues carefully, “that I was planning to give you on your birthday.”
“You...” The word catches in Tim’s throat.
“There are two rings inside it,” Hawk says softly.
Now the tears are in Tim’s eyes too. “You were going to propose to me?”
Hawk nods once. “I love you so much, Skippy. I genuinely can’t imagine my life without you.”
Tim takes a shaky breath.
“We’re getting married,” he says, and then suddenly he’s laughing through tears he can’t stop.
“We are,” Hawk says with the same watery smile.
Everything else disappears around them.
The traffic roaring along the interstate. The smell of gasoline and hot asphalt. The exhaustion of the long weekend still clinging to their bones.
None of it matters anymore.
All Tim can see is Hawk.
His fiancé.