nobody said the road was endless
nobody said the climb was friendless
but could we please pretend this won't end
In the early morning light, little motes of dust dance across the kitchen of their rented apartment, the lease of which will be up in just a few days. There's hardly anything to move out; they hardly ever moved anything in to begin with. Ash's whole life revolves around the surveillance van parked out back and his laptop—sitting on the kitchen table as he taps his fingers impatiently at the counter, waiting for the coffee maker to finish percolating.
Hawk, meanwhile… Ash taps his fingers again, more thoughtful than impatient. Hawk has never seemed to want for more than he has.
As if drawn in by the thought of him, some unseen gravitational force that exists between Ash's body and his, Hawk chooses this moment to enter the room, a shimmy to his step that telegraphs his jovial mood before he so much as opens his mouth. He's wearing nothing but boxers and socks, which slip against the linoleum as he bops his way silently across the floor: a trained killer.
"No," Ash says in a warning tone, "it's too early for any of that."
Which of course does nothing to discourage him, Hawk diverting his attention to Ash from across the room. He slides silently across the floor, grabbing Ash by the wrist and tugging him away from the counter with a spin that he gracelessly does not cooperate in the completion of. Hawk wraps an arm around him, the fingers of their opposite hands laced together as he leads Ash one step at a time into an impromptu dance there in the middle of the kitchen.
Hawk's expression is so bright, his smile so wide as he laughs in response to Ash's stumbling.
"I'm not above preparing another pot of coffee if something unfortunate were to happen to the first one," Ash threatens, yanking his hand away and smoothing the material of his shirt as he returns to the counter, face flushed.
Hawk watches him for a moment or two, still smiling, before he shrugs with a sigh and turns to leave, as light on his feet as he goes as he'd been when he'd entered.
Ash's coffee is acridly bitter when he finally sits down with it some little time later.
