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Tommy’s sprawled out in one of those hard, uncomfortable plastic chairs that seem ubiquitous in hospital waiting rooms, his chin pressed into his chest. If he slid any further, he’d probably end up slithering right out of the chair and onto his ass. He’s fallen asleep in even more uncomfortable situations, sure, but nothing beats the sterile white walls and floor of a waiting room—especially when you don’t know what sort of news you’re waiting for.
Evan, in the meantime, is sitting rigidly beside him, hands clasped firmly over his stomach like he’s trying to keep his intestines from spilling out. He’s still pale, his birthmark standing out stark and deep pink over one of his red-rimmed eyes.
Tommy shoves himself back in his plastic seat and tries to shake himself fully awake.
He feels Evan shifting beside him, his shoulder brushing lightly against Tommy’s. “You—you don’t have to stick around, you know,” Evan mumbles, low, his voice thick and raspy with the hint of tears already shed and tears yet to be cried.
Tommy shakes his head. “I’m good.”
“You’re practically falling out of your seat in exhaustion,” Evan says, reaching out toward Tommy, letting his hand hover over Tommy’s wrist close enough that he can feel the heat from his palm.
Tommy watches him for a moment, his hand trembling lightly, before he reaches up and pulls Evan’s hand into his.
Evan lets out a sigh of relief and melts into Tommy a little, like he’d just needed the permission to touch but wasn’t sure if he was going to get it. The thought that Evan might have been thrown off his game so badly sticks between Tommy’s ribs like a dull knife blade.
Tommy brings Evan’s hand up to his mouth. “I’m not that tired,” he lies, drawing his lips across Evan’s callused knuckles.
He sees Evan flicker in the periphery of his vision, moving like he doesn’t know where to put his body or what to do with himself in the moment. The news about Bobby—the fact there’s been nothing new to report since they all showed up at the hospital nearly two hours ago—has Evan twisted into knots so intricate and complicated that Tommy doesn’t know how to free him.
“You’re lying,” Evan whispers. “You were nearly comatose when I showed up to your place.”
“So I’m lying,” Tommy says, agreeably. He turns their hands so that he can study Evan’s palm with his fingers, and the deep lines that cut across it. He draws his thumb along Evan’s lifeline. “I’m still good.”
Evan sighs, a hot puff of air against the side of Tommy’s face. He reaches up and rubs anxiously at his eyebrow. “I just wish we had some news. I… I hate not knowing. I hate—” He cuts himself abruptly short and pounds his fist into his knee once, twice, three times.
Tommy waits him out, just continues to patiently stroke his thumb over the lines in Evan’s palm. Evan sometimes gets tongue tied and has to knock his fist against his knee until the words jumbling up in his head find their way out of his mouth.
Finally, Evan sighs and says, “The waiting’s the worst part. I wish there was something I could do. I’m good when I’m getting my hands dirty. Now, I just feel useless.”
Tommy lifts their hands again and presses a soft kiss against each of Evan’s knuckles. Then he flips Evan’s hand and brushes delicate kisses against his fingertips. “You’re not useless,” he says, powering past Evan’s dismissive scoff. “You’re never useless. You’re doing enough just being here for Bobby, waiting. Being here for him when he comes out of it. When he comes back.”
The to us is implied, but he knows Evan can hear it by the way the tension slowly seeps out of the tight set of his shoulders and rolls down his rigid spine.
Evan shifts in his plastic seat toward Tommy. “Tommy,” he says, the brittle edges falling away as he rolls Tommy’s name on his tongue like it’s a delicious morsel.
“Hmm?” Tommy tips his head toward Evan.
Evan rearranges their hands so that he can slide his fingers between Tommy’s. “I—I—I—”
He stumbles over his own tongue—not the first time—and Tommy’s content to wait him out, as he usually does. He’s gotten used to the cadence of Evan, knows what it sounds like when Evan is trying to work himself up to something big, something important.
Evan pulls Tommy’s hand into his lap and stares furiously at his knuckles, as if they might give him the words he’s digging for.
“Thank you,” Evan settles on, which isn’t what Tommy had been expecting him to say.
“You’re welcome?” Tommy scrunches his brow at him.
Evan’s beautiful lips curl in the implication of a smile—the first all night, Tommy thinks, dazed and dazzled by it—as he leans in and presses that smile against the furrow in Tommy’s brow. Tommy brings up his free hand to stroke his thumb over the hinge of Evan’s jaw.
Evan’s shy smile hits at something buried deep, somewhere in Tommy’s chest. It makes him feel settled. He hopes Evan feels even a fraction of what Tommy feels when he sees the corners of Evan’s mouth tilt up and knows he’s part of the reason why.
“They’re gonna kick us out in a little bit, I think,” Evan mutters, under his breath. “You wanna come back with me?”
“To the loft?” Tommy asks.
“Yeah.” Evan strokes his thumb slowly down the side of Tommy’s forefinger, from knuckle to fingertip. He drags his thumbnail back up, pausing a moment to worry at the calluses before moving on. “I—I don’t think I can be alone tonight and I know you’re tired, I know we had plans, I know you wanted to—”
“Of course,” Tommy cuts in, tugging Evan’s hand back into his. “Of course I’ll come home with you.”
Evan blinks owlishly at him, like he still hasn’t gotten used to that. To the fact he has someone who wants to come home with him. Who would never leave him if he could get away with it. “Of course,” he echoes, on a soft exhale, nodding slightly. His mouth twitches. “Of course.”
Tommy leans in closer, until his mouth skates over the birthmark above Evan’s eye. “I’ll keep saying it until you believe me,” he says, brushing a kiss there.
“I do, I do believe you,” Evan says, eyes fluttering shut as Tommy makes contact. “I just like hearing you say it.”
Tommy cups a hand against his cheek and holds him still so that he can place as many kisses against Evan’s birthmark as he likes, which is a lot of kisses. Evan gets even meltier, until he’s draped against Tommy’s shoulder and sighing contentedly.
“Then I’ll keep doing it.”