goodweather | IC INBOX ( SAIL )

"Thank you, thank you. Just as soon as the army invents a badge for kissing mouths instead of backsides, I'll be so decorated you could put Christmas presents under me."

Hawk sticks his tongue out when Phil snips his nose.

"What a coincidence, so did I. I'm happy to inform you that it works on the less fair sex. You're the one who dipped and kissed me, Casanova, why don't you tell me what changed? You had your eyes open for at least some of that, so I know you weren't mistaking me for Ginger Rogers."

"You told me you were a good dancer, so I wanted to see you dance, not just shuffle in place," he hums blamelessly. "And then when you asked me to kiss you, I thought, well, sure. I could do that. Why not? So I did."

His eyes flick aside, an almost bashful motion. He'd move his head if he didn't think it'd make Hawk take his hand away. "And, uh... it was good."

Hawk's face squinches up into his cat expression. You know the one, the one where he looks smug, like he got the canary and the cream at the same time. He places a kiss carefully on Phil's cheek.

"I'm sure I've had people think nicer things when I kiss them, but I'll take it," he teases. Well and truly back in his wheelhouse, if that touch of demure bashfulness is anything to go by. Hawk eases his hands back into how they were when they were dancing, only this time pressing closer, cheek to cheek.

"I'm an award winning shuffler-in-place, too. Won regional championships."

His aftershave is still lingering from when he shaved earlier, something masculine in an abstract way, but he got a nice close shave for Phil. Just in case they got this close.

"It's my third favourite pastime," and his eyes flick reflexively to check if the kitchen curtain is closed.

The more affectionate Hawk gets, the more he finds himself leaning into it. His eyes shut with a satisfied squint when he kisses his cheek, and when they press closer again, there’s a very, very quiet sound from the back of his throat that may or may not have been something like a pigeon coo.

Phil’s definitely got a slightly pricier cologne on. Nothing opulent, not to mention he’s trying to save to support the new household, but there’s a sense of sophistication there. He’s a man who likes expense, though he’d hardly demand it of someone else.

He just basks in Hawkeye. His warmth, the smell of his aftershave, the landscape of his skin.

“Yeah? What’re the other two? Shuffling out of place and placing in shuffles?”

Good to know he's reading Phil right, that the touch and contact is welcome. He wonders to himself if it's been a while since he got it casually, that sort of thoughtless touch that couples just do. Phil's a widower, after all, and you don't really get used to not having it once you've lost it.

It's just all good. Really, just being close to Phil is fantastic, as good as he imagined back at the hot springs. He smells like Hawk should've submitted his credit before getting this close, and that's kind of exciting in its own way. Lots of things about Phil are.

He laughs again, leaning into Phil to answer-

"If I can convince you to stay the night, you can find out."

He may as well shoot his shot. If not, he'll be happy like this, but if so... he might be lucky to leave Phil's bones behind when he's done. This want is maddening, it's all he can think about, this close to him. Another kiss to his cheek, just to hear that cute pigeon noise again.

Hawk’s just reward is another little coo. Phil shifts, readjusting his hold on him.

Could he imagine it? Oh, easily. He’d love to try, even, but as they turn, he catches sight of the disorganized pile with a blanket over it in the corner of the room. Hawk’s sanitary, no doubt, but. Mm. He did say he wanted to get his head straight first.

“Maybe some other time, ehn? I should probably be at the house tonight, but… I can be out late. I’ll help you with the dishes. For now, let’s stay like this.”

Hawk does a couple of mental calculations and works out what Phil's looking at, exhaling just slightly. Not disappointment- not entirely- but frustration at himself. If he wasn't doing bad, he could probably have ridden this all the way to the terminal destination. It's probably better that they save it for when Hawk can properly appreciate it rather than just use it as a distraction from feeling rotten. Phil will leave, and then Hawk will sink back down into some nice luxurious misery while he thinks about everyone who's missing and gone from him. That's just who he is now, someone who has to stay in motion.

Still, Hawk's voice takes on a tone of seriousness for a moment.

"How'd you know doing the dishes was one of the two?" he asks.

May as well enjoy what he's got while he has it, so he stays where he is. Hawk isn't a difficult man to please, he's a creature of very simple pleasures, and having someone to squeeze is among the most perfect of them. Phil's warmth, the way being so close sets tingles off across his skin, of the slight friction between them. What a fantastic distraction. He closes his eyes and tries to soak in as much of it as he can.

He does wish they actually had a way to play music here. Then he could just shut up and focus on holding Hawkeye against himself without worrying about the dead silence or trying to fill it.

"You don't have to try that hard. I like you well enough already." Just to prove his point, he pecks a kiss under his eye.

"Who's trying hard? I'm always this charming."

That's a lie and they both know it, but he squeezes his eyes shut like a pleased cat at the kiss.

"I think you missed."

"Then I'll try again," he says, and pressing him closer at the waist, comes in for a soft landing.

IC INBOX ( SAIL )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject