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"Tom."
Tom huffs.
"Tommy."
He turns his face away.
Serge knows Tom's pissed and he wants them to be his usual cheerful self again sooner rather than later, but he can't help taking a few moments to enjoy how adorably boyish Tom looks with stubbornness adorning his face.
"Thomas."
He curls his lips into a pout now. It takes every ounce of Serge's willpower to not kiss those pouty lips senseless until they turn red and raw.
"Thomas, come on."
Serge keeps using that particular name because he knows how much Tom likes being called that, and how much he himself likes saying it. A nickname thick with subtext of affection intimately known only to the two of them. A shorthand of sorts for "I love you".
"I said I'm sorry. I was off my head, alright? Too wasted and too horny to notice anyway."
"I was in the next room! You could've come to me instead of sticking your face to somebody else!"
Serge lets out a big sigh and rubs his face. Goddamnit he loves this man, but it's not fair, Serge grumbles inwardly. Tom does more with more people and more frequently anyway, to everyone he finds interesting, which is basically every other person he meets. Compared to him, Serge is practically a model of fidelity. The poster boy for monogamy and family values. Only shagging other people when he's accumulated certain extra amount of tolerance towards human beings, which doesn't happen that often.
He thinks he should be mad at Tom for this injustice. But no matter how many times he mulls it over, he just can't get past the fact that Tom looks even more gut-wrenchingly cute it makes Serge wants to shove him down, suck on every bit of his skin, and fuck him senseless until Tom stops being stupid and gives in to the pleasure that Serge is more than happy to provide.
"Tell me, did you get it?"
"What?"
"The desirous snog you apparently tried so hard to get from Chris fucking Wolstenholme."
"What? Course not!"
"You liar! You fucking liar! Jesus you're so bad at it." Tom laughed.
He really is bad at lying, has always been. And he never bothers to learn because, why would he ever lie to Tom anyway?
Serge sighs for the thousandth time that night. "Alright, I'm sorry. We did kiss, but that's all, okay? It didn't mean nothing. You know that."
Tom remains unmoved and Serge decides this has gone on long enough. He can't stand the tension anymore, it's wrong. Tom must always be happy, Serge will do anything to ensure that, including shedding his comfortable coat of passivity.
Serge climbs to Tom's lap and straddles him. Tom insistently refuses to meet his eyes, but Serge isn't planning to let him get away this time.
"Tom, look at me. Hey, look at me." He tries to coax him sweetly, searching his face until Tom's gaze finally meets his. Serge places both hands on the sides of Tom's face, holding it in place, his thumb gently rubbing Tom's softly round cheek and his other hand brushing away the hair that has fallen over Tom's eyes.
"I love you, alright? It's just you, you know that. Always just you. That night meant absolutely fuck all, I could barely remember it. You have to believe me."
Serge doesn't let go of the bind of their gaze. They know each other long enough, well enough, it's easy for them to see into each other's soul. And surely, surely Tom can see that there's nothing else other than infinite and unwavering love in Serge's.
"So...I haven't been replaced by Chris?"
A chuckle came out of Serge. "Who the fuck is Chris?" At that Tom laughs a little laugh that rings sweetly in Serge's ears and sends tiny vibrations to his heart. "Course not, you silly git."
Tom's grin widens, that radiant twinkle back in his eyes. "Oh so I'm a silly git now, am I? Then why are you straddling me, huh?"
"'Cos you're my silly git and I don't want you to run away, do I? Maybe I should tie you up."
"You mean like I did to you last night?" Tom's voice is dripping with his usual kinky playfulness now.
"Shutup," Serge smiles sheepishly as he plunges down to kiss this stupid man he so stupidly loves so hard they won't be stupid again. At least for a few days.