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"You good, Tommy? That's was a lot of wine you drank."
"Hm? Yeah."
Tommy didn't even mean to drink that much. It was just that Gordon asked him if he wanted to join him for dinner after Tommy finished work, saying "I missed talking to you." or something like that. The wine was thrown into the mix somehow and honestly, Tommy can't really remember the rest if you asked him, the wine was making his face overheat and burn every single coherent thought that was in his mind except for Gordon and that he was in his house.
Tommy wasn't much of a wine person, more of a soda man himself, but he couldn't help but accept the tangy drink if Gordon Freeman was the one pouring him a glass. He would accept a lot of things from Gordon actually, he could probably lace his drink with poison or something and he would still drink it. But Gordon would never do that, he's too nice and nervous to do that, he would fidget nervously the entire time after giving him such a thing.
Speaking of Gordon, he looks so pretty with the warm light hitting his face. Where were they? Tommy feels something soft under him and can feel a dip where Gordon was sitting. He's so close, sitting at the edge of what he is pretty sure is a bed where Tommy's waist was at. He has this small smile on his face, glasses somewhat falling down the bridge of his nose, and untied curls falling down to his back.
He was so pretty, Tommy thought as he decided to be a little indulgent and reach out, letting the hairs move through his fingers.
"You're pre-pretty," Tommy said again, out loud this time, after repeating the action of gently putting a hand through Gordon's hair and watching it flow through his fingers like he was idly playing with sand. Gordon huffed out of his nose.
"You're pretty out of it, huh?"
Tommy furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that?" He asked, a bit indignant. His expression softened quickly after he started playing with Gordon's hair once again, making Gordon hold back a laugh.
"Sorry, I'm just," Gordon said, shifting his position so that his hands weren't on the bed anymore and instead his arms were dangling between his legs, "I'm not used to people calling me that. Compliments, I mean."
"I mean it though," Tommy admitted, like it was a truth in the world and it was and Gordon had to know, must know because Tommy isn't sure if he's really ever going to get a chance like this again so if he's going to ruin a friendship now, he might as well do it when he's not sober to lessen the heartbreak, "I al-always thought you were so pretty. Are so pretty. Saw you in the ha-halls before the test and thought, 'God, he's so gor-gorgeous.' I was so happy when you found my fucked up billboards joke fu-funny. Like 'He has a sense of humor. No one here has a sense of humor. The perfect man.'"
Tommy felt this small, dumb smile on his face and his eyes fluttered closed after that. Not really because he was tired, but perhaps subconsciously because he didn't really want to see Gordon's expression anymore after implying his nearly a year long crush on him. Can he really call it a crush? Tommy has read so many books, but he can't ever be so sure on what to call his feelings for Gordon except that it's love, love, love and even if Gordon doesn't want him, he doesn't think he'll stop loving him. He stopped playing with Gordon's hair, dropping his hands somewhere close to Gordon's thighs.
He heard Gordon laugh, before sighing so softly he swear he couldn't have heard it if the room wasn't silent. It was a pretty sound, but Tommy prefers Gordon's laugh. "You're drunk," Gordon said.
"Drunken words are sober thoughts," Tommy said, using the hand that was earlier playing with Gordon's hair to cover his eyes because the lamp light is already starting to give him a headache, "And I'm too much of a-a coward to say any of this so-sober. I.. wanted to be with you for so long and I still can't mu-muster up the courage to tell you that. Still do, ever since Black Mesa."
"That long?" Gordon asked softly, in disbelief.
Of course that long. Why else would he protect him like he did when they were there? Shooting lead into multiple clones of their friend even when he was sure all of them were dead? Why else would he say the most inane shit just to make him laugh? Why else would be he be here, accepting dinner, not only this time, but many other times, and wine even though he doesn't even like wine that much to the point where he is drunkenly messing with Gordon's hair presumably on the man's bed like some pining idiot?
He doesn't say anything like that though, just nods and says 'mm-hm."
There's silence and then a shift in the bed probably from Gordon moving and even through his drunken state, his stomach churned uncomfortably and his head turned to follow the sound. He gripped his eyelids, biting the inside of his cheek. Was he leaving the bed? Oh god, he probably shouldn't have said anything, he was happy enough that Gordon wanted him around, but he always has to blurt something out, and now he thinks he overstepped. Now Gordon was leaving like how he was going leave and be gone from Tommy's life forever and Tommy won't have dinner with him anymore and-
"Tommy, bud, can you uncover your eyes and open them? For me?"
He does, because despite his own loathing at himself right now, the good chunk of his brain is wired to do just about anything Gordon wants him to do. His breath hitches and his eyes widens when he sees Gordon's face just a foot away from his, his hair curtaining them to such a small space and the gaps from the curls shining thin lights from the bedside lamp on him. His hand was near his head to support him and his body pressing onto Tommy's side with a weight that felt more grounding than unpleasant.
He looked nearly holy, ethereal, any words you describe divinity, even though Gordon is so much more gorgeous and kinder than any god he can think of. He's so beautifully human was the best way to describe him, he thinks, with the fading scars near his eyes and the gentle grey streaks within his hair.
"Did you mean all of that? The stuff you said, I mean."
He was speechless, feeling his eyes on him. He let himself believed Gordon was staring at him with as much adoration as he does for him, nodding his head all the while. Gordon quirked up an eyebrow and smiled, an expression that was a mixture of teasing, but genuine inquiry.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Yes. D-Do want me to say it more? Because I wi-will." It isn't a lie. He would say yes, yes, yes and every single praise he could think of under the sun a thousand more times, he will be sure to count mentally in his head, in different languages too even. His accent is terrible for anything other than English and Mandarin, but he would try either way. Anything. He would give anything Gordon wanted if he just asked.
"No, no. You're good man," Gordon said, going back to his original position, except he was so much closer, so close that he swears that all he has to do is lean his body up and he would be kissing him, raising his hand that he was using to support himself to hold Tommy's cheek, the action making Tommy flinch slightly at the sudden contact.
Gordon nearly pulls his hand away, worried he did the wrong move before Tommy reassures him wordlessly by grabbing his wrist and pulling it back to his cheek. He sighs happily with his eyes closed, not out of fear this time, but pure warm content, and keeps his hand on his wrist, rubbing his thumb for a moment approximately where his pulse should be before just holding it there and savoring the moment.
It was perfect and still and it would be very cliche yet very true of him to say he would gladly stay like this forever, having the liberty of kissing the palm of Gordon's hands just by turning his head a little bit despite his insecurities because he feels so wonderfully lightheaded, from the wine and Gordon and how his hands are so warm like molasses and god, he just loves him so much. It's weird how he does because he's sure that it didn't happen quickly or even overtime, but because of the circumstances they were put into.
It was horrible circumstances, for sure, to the point where neither of them couldn't trust anyone else except for each other for a while. But... they've been getting better. Gordon has been getting therapy, planning to go back to work again, and talking to Bubby, Dr. Coomer, and even Benery when he came back after a couple of months avoiding them. Tommy has been getting into therapy too and has been getting into potion making with Darnold lately, a better coping mechanism honestly than staying in his bed every day with Sunkist until he had to go to work or Gordon messaged him if he wanted to join him for dinner.
The only good thing that came out of Black Mesa is that Gordon trusts Tommy more than anyone he knows, and Tommy loves Gordon more than anything.
"I love you," He says, sleepily and happily.
Gordon doesn't say it back, but he just hums and says, " Say that to me when you aren't drunk, okay? Promise me you'll remember to tell me you love me tomorrow."
He promises to tell him he loves him tomorrow, the day after that, next week, next month, the next year. Everyday. But Tommy, like everything else that happened to his thoughts tonight, simplifies them to a happy slow nod and a vibration from his throat. He can hear Gordon grin when he says, "Alright then."
Tommy eventually falls asleep, his hand barely holding onto Gordon's wrist, but Gordon keeps his hand on Tommy's cheek and he swore he could feel a gentle pressure on his head before he fully passes out.
(And when he wakes up, feeling disgusting because he is still wearing his dress shirt and pants from work the other day yet feeling more well-rested than he has in a long time, and leaves Gordon's bedroom, he sees the man himself sleeping on the couch with a blanket covering the near entirety of his body so that only his nose and eyes are sticking out, moving subtly as he gently snores.
He stands there for a moment, twiddling his fingers, before walking towards the couch slowly and taking a seat on the edge of the couch cushion in front of where Gordon's stomach is.
Gordon is a heavy sleeper, so he takes his time and waits as he drags the hair that's on his face and tucking it over his ear, watching how some of the hairs fall back in fascination.
And after Gordon wakes up, Tommy feels a smile growing when he sees chocolate eyes that can be seen more clearly from the lack of spectacles peeking out of the cover.
When Gordon processes where he is and looks up at Tommy, he smiles as well.
"Good morning. I love you." Tommy says, whispering loudly enough so that he only can hear.
"G'morning. L've you too." Gordon says, groggily.
Tommy grins dumbly from hearing those words from Gordon Freeman of all people, leaning down and using his hand to gently raise up Gordon's neck to press his lips on it, then to his jawline, then to his cheek, then to the tip of his nose, and then finally, to his lips.
Gordon laughed softly and muttered out a small 'Jesus.' at one point throughout the journey, accepting all the kisses that held so much overwhelming adoration.
Tommy could break Gordon so easily, holding his face like this, but Gordon trusts Tommy with him and Tommy loves Gordon too much to hurt him.
Gordon trusts Tommy more than anyone and Tommy loves Gordon more than anything. And he hopes, prays, that it'll stay that way if not forever, than for a long while.)