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Gally hears it coming before he ever sees it.
“Don’t you do it, Tommy.”
“Newt, man-”
“Don’t you bloody do it.”
He peers out across the field, squinting his eyes against the fierce summer sun. He can’t find the source of the voices- the stretch of land is teaming with people, dozens of flushed and content faces with beaming smiles. They’re stuffing their faces with sickly sweet doughnuts and cupcakes, and Gally wonders if he’ll ever get the scent of sugar out of his nose. It’s early afternoon, the end of the day creeping closer, but not fast enough for Gally’s liking.
Despite his grouching, he knows it’s a perfect day for a fair, not a single cloud in the sky and a heavy sun, but with a gentle, soothing breeze. It’s the only thing keeping him sane, cooped up in a tiny little stall with a shitty old rickety chair that he would happily bet any money would collapse under his weight in a second. His 3DS had run out of batteries a half hour back, and he supposed the princess would have to suck it up and wait. Not even Ben was around to keep him company, off manning the clay pigeon shooting range, but at least now-
“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
Now, he had some familiar faces to play with.
“And that’s saying something.”
If only he could see the fuckers, that is. The voices were gradually growing closer, calling out over the guffaws and cries of the fair goers. He saw no familiar faces in the crowd that swept along like ocean waves, and a few glanced in his direction. People had been stopping and staring at the booth all day. Men threw back their heads and laughed, many giving him sly winks and nods, while most girls tossed their hair and laughed, giggling coquettishly. Some scurried on by, too shy to take part while others picked out quarters or pressed a half dollar into his palm, lips curled up into satisfied little smiles.
No matter who it was, he’d smile somewhat ruefully back- and hope they didn’t notice- before tucking the payment away. Then, he would dutifully lean forward and press a chaste kiss to waiting lips. For only a few seconds, that was the rule. No tonsil hockey in public, please, thank you, they had said. He felt almost stung that they didn’t trust him. But that was the rule, not that there was anyone around to enforce it. His boss had wandered off hours ago, and Gally didn’t blame him one bit.
At fifty cents a kiss, he feels a little offended, but he supposed it was all for a good cause. For the kids, Teresa had said with a devious little smile when she had suggested it, and Gally half wanted to drag her down on his level, for the kids his ass. His lips were sore, and while he wasn’t sure, the last girl may have tried to bite him.
“Tommy, for God’s sake.”
Familiar little heads emerged from the crowd, breaking out against the tide. At the lead was a grinning little demon, with a little blonde friend quickly limping after him. Gally squares up on instinct, glowering out across the green at him. It doesn’t slow their approach, although Newt lingers, a little wary. Teresa steps out after them, Alby on her heels, and while he looks apprehensive she looks positively thrilled.
Thomas practically swaggers up to him, a cupcake clutched in his hand, and a sprinkle or two in the corner of his mouth. Gally doesn’t bother pointing it out. “Gally,” He calls out in greeting, baring his teeth in a smile. “What a fine day we’re having, don’t you agree?”
There was something about Thomas, something about him, and Gally couldn’t decide which part of him was the most insufferable. It could have been the way his eyes seemed to constantly gleam with curiosity and mischief, or the way he threw himself into situations with bravado that almost rivalled Gally’s own. It could have been the fact his stupid face was so unbearably attractive. Sometimes, Gally would lie awake in the early hours of the morning, sleep evading him despite his best efforts, and try to chose.
After several years, he was still no closer to finding an answer.
Gally crosses his arms across his chest. “What do you want, greenie?”
Thomas comes to a stop, right up against the booth, his hips pressed directly against the stand. He’s so close, Gally can see almost every thick, individual eyelash. Some part of him wants to step away, another part of him wanting to submit to the temptation to come closer, and in response to both parts he stays exactly where he is, standing tall against all opposition. “Well, I saw that you were working for charity,” He began, “And I wanted to do my part. Unfortunately,” He quirked his head to one side, grin practically splitting his cheeks. “I spent my last half dollar on this cupcake.”
“Tommy,” Newt calls to him, in warning, but Gally cuts him off.
“Maybe you should go ask your mommy for more pocket money.” He ground out, a little biting, but without his usual brand of acid. It completely misses it’s mark, and Thomas only laughs, a warm sound. From behind, Newt looks a mix of defeated and accepting of his friend’s fate.
“Or I could just make you a deal.” Thomas rests his hands on the counter, and blinks up at him. His eyes were a shade of brown that Gally had never seen before. “I’m sure you could make an exception, for me, because you’re so kind.” He reminded Gally of the girls from before- hunters, not hunted. They smiled and laughed and batted their eyelids at him in almost the exact same way, borderline mocking. It made something odd settle precariously in the pit of his stomach, keeping him on edge.
“So, what do you think?” Thomas pressed him. “A cupcake for a kiss?”
The sprinkle is still there. Gally rather wants to lick it away.
They look at each other for a long while, and he imagines it as a classic wild west style showdown, the two of them standing all alone in barren wasteland waiting for the next move. All the noise from the fair is a dull roar now. It’s all irrelevant, everything shrinking down to a sole point of Thomas- the smile and the sprinkles and those brown eyes.
It’s the deciding few seconds now, the last that remain. The victor of their little conflict would be decided either way, and Gally wasn’t going to allow that smug little shit to flourish in a victory that was his by right.
There was silence.
He smiles, slowly, like a great white. “Sure,” He drawls. “Why not.”
The wind catches in Thomas’ sails, and the boy blinks. The playful facade drops. “What?” He manages in a slightly higher pitched voice than usual, at the exact same time Teresa barks out a laugh. Alby, as cool and silent as ever, simply raises a brow.
“I said, why not? I can always pay the money myself.” He leans forward a little. “After all, I’m so kind.”
Teresa looks just about ready to cry, her face pinkening in a charming way. Newt excuses himself, barely able to hold back his own peals of laughter, but Gally sees him linger. Let him watch. He leans closer yet, and tries to ignore the way his belly is full of snakes, slipping and sliding. “What’s the matter?” He asks when Thomas only continues to stare. “Lost your nerve, greenie?”
Gally loves the way his eyes harden at that, at Thomas straightens his posture, electrified by the challenge. The playful manner returns as quickly as it disappeared, and they both begin to play their roles. “Of course not.”
“Good.” Gally breathes, smirking, making sure to lean forward just a little more. Thomas moves as if to pull back on instinct, but freezes just in time, keeping still. Gally hears no noise from the rest of the boy’s companions, and he wonders if they’re watching with bated breath. It’s probably the most intense game of chicken they’ve ever witnessed, he thinks with a smile.
They stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and Gally wonders what Thomas can see. Gally could see panic, anticipation, the emotions of a man thrown into the deep end, but he could see something else, something different. It’s yet another thing about Thomas that he can’t put his finger on, and it’s beginning to drive him insane.
They’re only a inch away now.
Gally hardens his heart, just a little, just to be safe, and kisses Thomas firmly on the lips without further ado. Fuck it.
The first thing he thinks is that Thomas’ lips still taste strongly of icing. He hates icing. He hates cupcakes. He never had a taste for sweet things, but he could maybe make an exception for Thomas. Then he thinks about how warm he is, how soft his lips are, and how now, Gally can’t imagine kissing anyone else.
Thomas is frozen under him, and it’s like kissing heated marble. But his hand finds itself on Gally’s forearm- when did that happen, both of them think, and neither can find an answer- and his fingers curl around the muscle, a tiny encouragement.
He breaks the four second rule, he rips up the rules and tosses them out of the window, but fuck it, he was a lawbreaker by heart. Instead of pulling away, he pulls Thomas closer, and even dares to nip at his lower lip.
Thomas jerks at that, like he had been electrocuted, and he pulls away. To the day he dies, Gally would deny ever making a soft sound of disappointment and following his mouth as it disappeared. He watches as Thomas take a swift step back, stammering and nervous. His lips are pink and just a little swollen, and it’s like flame in Gally’s veins.
“Well,” Teresa hums, and the sounds of the fair come back in a sudden rush, like Gally has broken the surface of water. “That happened.”
There’s a few long moments where nothing happens. Silence reigns between each of them. Gally rests his weight on the counter and smiles with satisfaction, and Thomas stares at him, wide eyed. Both their lips burn.
“Right.” Thomas says, and that’s that. He turns away with a little bit of a wobble, and Teresa takes pity on him, guiding him away with a smile that’s only a fraction mocking. Newt’s expression is like Christmas has come early, and even Alby is grinning as they turn to follow. Gally lets them go, until realization dawns on him.
“Thomas,” He shouts after them, and notes with satisfaction the way Thomas jolts in alarm. He wouldn’t let him walk away thinking he was out of Gally’s clutches. No way in hell.
The boy turns back, still pink cheeked. Gally winks at him.
“You forgot to give me the cupcake.” He reminds him, and he can only laugh when Thomas makes an outraged sound and throws the cake directly at his face.