Chapter Text
Cheering, hollering, bottles opening, congratulatory hugs, laughter.
The room was small, decorated with flimsy party banners and balloons. There was some food set up on the counter along with a copious amount of different alcoholic beverages lined up. There were some rustic chairs and tables set out, too. Probably dragged from the stock-room or robbed from a local antique charity shop. Tommy would believe either.
There was a random assortment of party music playing on a record player, surprisingly at a decent volume that you could still hear people talking and the clinking of bottles over it. The lights were dimmed and some purple and pink hued lamps were put in replacement - Len had most likely put them in, or at least requested them to 'jazz it up'. He had spent far too long analysing the make-shift decorations.
Tommy's eye twitched as he watched their albeit small crew celebrate the successful, fantastic finish of "Cheese & Crackers" first live show on stage. A momentous occasion, to be sure.
Tommy was, however, unsure why he didn't feel wholly happy. He was, in a way - but he felt slightly bitter standing in the small room, shyly sipping on a refined alcoholic drink of sorts, watching all these people celebrate for him. He watched Len, float around the room, with his usual charming air, and softened.
He watched him through heavy-lidded, affectionate eyes which lazily followed him as he cheerfully bantered with the crew and drank and drank and drank. It was a bit pathetic, he surmised. Stood, leaning against one of the tables, alone, when he was supposedly the star of the show.
Well, one of them. But one star outshone the other.
Tommy pursed his lips and his eyes crinkled at his casual sip of the drink. He didn't understand how Len could stand that stuff, especially downing 10 bottles of it on stage every night. He felt guilty, making him do that. He seemed happy to do it, sure, but it didn't help Tommy get uneasy at the occasional stumble. He was acutely aware of the negative effects it had on him. It's not like he spent a few lonely hours of his life researching it.
Most of the crew had came round to chat to him, with much less warm congratulations than to Len. He just nodded along, begrudgingly pushing through the small talk before they eventually found an excuse to leave - which didn't take long.
Tommy was lost in his own thoughts, sans his drink, eyebrows furrowed as he wove worries through himself. He felt irritated that he couldn't celebrate the occasion with Len only. Just Tommy and Len. He felt annoyed at how Len seemed to speak to everyone else except him in the night.
Tommy jumped, agitated as he was lazily pat around the back by his slightly taller counterpart. His reclusive, stiff, and miserable attitude softened as soon as he locked eyes him.
Len stared for a moment, before his grin seemed to expand impossibly wider and pat him enthusiastically.
"What's with the long face, eh? Turn that frown upside down and all that! We've just done our first live show, Tommy! Cheer up," He called to him in his usual boisterous mannerisms, waving his arm. There was a hint of sympathy laced underneath his words - subtext, of course, that only he would catch.
A few snickered and laughed at that in agreement, but mostly returned to their own conversations, much to Tommy's relief.
"No, no, I'm happy for you. For us, I mean." He murmured in response, not meeting his gaze entirely. His face twitched, a subtle hint that he wanted to say something but A) didn't know how or B) was too conflicted to speak up.
After a short period of deliberation, he glanced away at the room and hesitated, adding, "It's just... I... don't know, Len."
Len's mood seemed to sour at Tommy's hesitance. Tommy seemed to notice this, immediately reverting and he began to seem like he was going to recluse back into himself - to which Len's eyes widened and he shook his head lightly at him in reprimand.
He seemed to choose his words carefully. Len usually didn't, but he knew to make a special effort with Tommy. Especially if he was like this.
"What's wrong, Tommy? I... You... You know you can tell me anything, you know that? I don't want you to shy away like this from me. Go on, what's on your mind?" He encouraged rather hastily, his eyes flitting across him to gauge his reaction from his expressions and body language. Len always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.
Tommy Drake seemed to be an indecipherable language, an unbreakable code to the world - unreadable with no effort to be read. But, then again, Len Shelby wasn't like the rest of the world.
Tommy clicked his tongue, fidgeting with his fingers before exhaling as if it were a great effort to shove them into his pockets as he shuffled against the table, which shook slightly under his weight.
"I just thought... I mean, I would have preferred if we celebrated our first live show success together." Tommy muttered in a hushed, low and bitter tone.
Len cocked a brow at him. "We are together, right now, Tommy. Celebrating our first live show success." He countered, slightly bemused with a light upturn of his lips.
Tommy shot him a less than amused glare, eyes twitching in exasperation. "You know what I mean, Len. I mean, just the two of us. I don't get why all these other people should be here, stealing that occasion from us." He explained quietly, not meeting his gaze.
The chattering, muffled clinking of glass bottles, and the low buzz of music seemed to be drowned out by their conversation to them. The lights continued to shine and noise blared throughout the room, but it all seemed so small right now. Like an afterthought.
"You mean, a single serving of Cheese and Crackers? Tad lonely, without all your... dips and sides," Len replied with light amusement, hands animatedly extending and signalling to the rest of the people there. He knew Tommy wasn't exactly a party animal, but saw no good reason in abandoning the celebration for themselves.
"Well, maybe sometimes I want just a plain serving, Len. It's difficult when all you want to do is mix and match." Tommy explained in their peculiar way, glancing away and huffing, shuffling uneasily in his suit.
Len paused, watching him intensely before he put 2 and 2 together and gasped lightly. He leaned closer. "Tommy, I can't believe I'm saying this, are you jealous that you can't just be with me?"
The shorter man groaned and turned even further away, if that was even possible, his face now slightly flushed a pale red in embarrassment. He stuffed his hands further into his pockets as Len laughed heartily and cooed in playful soothing at him.
"Oh, don't be like that, Tommy!" The taller comedian patted him on the back, rubbing the expanse with his palm. He perked, before tapping him and murmuring to him.
"Let's stay for a while longer and then we can go back to the rooms they set up here for us, yeah? 'Cause they all know none of us are making it back to the hotel rooms completely sober."
Len laughed to himself, clearly excluding Tommy from that 'us', before clearing his throat and continuing. "You can... come into my room for a while so we can celebrate, just us, before you go back to yours for the night."
Tommy's heart swelled at the gentle offering. He secretly loved it when Len moved others to accommodate for him, as if he were the most important thing in the world to him. Like Len's world revolved around Tommy. It didn't, he thought, but it was nice to dream. He glanced down again, looking at his black leather shoes and shuffling repeatedly where he leant against the table.
His blue eyes dragged up to meet Len's concerned gaze, his stomach squirming and eating away at itself with a stupidly lovesick parasite. Tommy's lips twitched, before replying, "I'd like that."
Len's shoulders relaxed, not settled until his best friend was okay too. Like they were intertwined together by the universe, Tommy mused all too often - stupidly hopeful they'd be together forever. As if Len wanted to be stuck with his miserable counterpart for forever.
He nodded, smiling with his familiar charm and charisma that dragged everyone in. Len patted his back cheerfully, rubbing it and then leaning forward to squeeze himself into Tommy in a comforting manner. "Thanks, Tommy."
Tommy shot him a small agreeable smile, before reverting back into his stiffened position as Len left to banter and amuse the team. He watched him dance so naturally around the room. Sure, he did eventually converse with the crew, but it was mostly to pass the time as the night grew longer and longer.
A while turned into half an hour, an hour, a couple of hours. Tommy lost count after 2 hours since their conversation and had all but given up hope on Len's previous promise to him. Through his keen eye he had watched Len drink and drink and drink, his heart sinking with a heavy regret. His piercing blue eyes felt dull and forlorn as he traced Len's every action, every single stumble within his all too familiar drunken haze.
He hated it.
Hated how much he loved him and crawled back to him, when all he did was drink and Tommy could never stop him. It hurt, hurt so badly.
Tommy ran a hand through his hair shakily, exhausted. He fidgeted with his hands again, deliberating on whether or not he should give up and leave. God knows Len would forget in the morning anyways.
He was sick of the irritating music which now kept blaring obnoxiously in the corner, and the loud chattering, and the unorthodoxly bright lights. His blue eyes flitted from one person together like a record on repeat in his skittish haze.
After another agonisingly long few minutes, he shoved himself off the table and reluctantly shook himself off and forced his way to the door in a confident stride.
Tommy took one last glance over his shoulder to see if Len would notice his departure, but his heart grew rigid and he stifled a grimace as he saw Len, pissed as ever, half on his way to falling, laughing in a boisterous manner. His hands slipped and shook subtly as he signalled in an animated way. The crew just laughed along, like it was a stupid game.
Tommy fled, a frown etched into his face with furrowed brows. He doesn't know why he was so incredibly bothered by it.
He slinked to his room, clinging to the shadows cast by the walls, wallowing pitifully to himself as he begrudgingly reached for the keys he'd be given yesterday and unlocked the door, closing himself in.
Tommy threw his keys and items down onto the small dressing table, in a small fit of rage. He shed his suit blazer, hanging it up neatly and untying his shoelaces and placing them down, doing so with a bitter yet restrained frustration.
His blue eyes dragged to the clock in the room, reading '02:34', which made him grumble and rub his eyes which grew red and raw.
Tommy slowly undressed himself and fetched the spare set of night clothes they provided, taking his show attire off. He did this at an abysmally slow rate, silently praying Len would eventually burst in and babble an apology (and Tommy would immediately accept it).
But he never did.
Tommy brushed off the night clothes obsessively, stumbling to the small bathroom installed in the ensuite, brushing his teeth with the cheap mint toothpaste provided. He then began rubbing his face with water in a vain attempt to make himself look better. With narrowed eyes, he gave up and slowly sat on the bed.
He shuffled on the white, pristine covers, hands tracing the stitched pattern on the edges, watching the clock hand tick by and the door. Tommy gave up once it hit 3 o'clock, shuffling to drag the curtains against the window which let the moonlight pool in.
He slipped under the covers, sighing as he flicked the bedside lamp off. Tommy stared at the ceiling for a while, his heart aching with a myriad of miserable emotions. He tried to decipher anything through the blackness in the room, mind racing. He held off on crying - men don't cry. Not over petty, stupid things like this, anyways.
He scrunched his eyes shut, face contorted into a frustrated, miserable expression as he attempted to fall asleep.
Silence fell over the room as Tommy curled into himself in a fetal position of sorts on his side, gripping the other spare pillow in his arms tightly, naively pretending it was Len he was holding instead of a cotton stuffed pillow. He held on slightly tighter, exhaling gently as he grew more and more drowsy.
He must have drifted off eventually, because the next time he woke up from quiet fidgetings from his room's door, the clock now read '04:12' which made him frown in annoyance at the late time. Tommy's hands clutched into the pillow as he gently shifted himself up to raise his heavy head to listen out.
He could hear the light jangle of keys from outside his door, and the hasty fiddling with unlocking the door. Tommy's heart shot up to his throat, his mind flitting to theories - what if someone got the wrong room? No, it had his name on. What if someone was breaking in? What if it was Len?
Tommy ran a hand through his hair roughly, suddenly deciding to prop himself up against the pillows, rubbing his tired eyes weakly as he waited keenly.
The door eventually unlocked with a soft click and someone loudly shuffled into, closing it behind themselves. They seemed to walk haphazardly down the short hall into the main room, as if they were ill or drunk.
Drunk seemed to be the right answer as Tommy spotted the outline of Len through the darkness. He felt a strange sense of relief - knowing he had come. Tommy scoffed quietly to himself, flicking the bedside lamp on at his presence, lighting the room up in a warm glow.
Len froze at that, staring at the sleepy version of Tommy and pausing. He began laughing to himself, carefully putting his suit blazer down as he approached his partner.
"I was wondering if you were going to show up." Tommy bitterly mused, glancing away as his face twitched and he gripped the pillow underneath the covers tighter.
Len frowned, clicking his tongue and sighing as he approached the side of the bed. "Oh, don't be like that, Tommy. I... am sorry. I shouldn't have stayed that long. But hey, I'm, uh, here now, aren't I?" He laughed in a slightly pathetic manner.
Tommy glanced back at him reluctantly, meeting his soppy gaze and pursing his lips. His eyebrows furrowed unconsciously, watching Len closely. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitating.
"Yes. Yes, you are here now. Happy first live show, then." Tommy muttered back, a harsh and dissatisfied edge to his voice as he shuffled into a sitting position on the bed.
Len grimaced, perching himself on the edge of the bed in front of him, now having kicked off his shoes temporarily. He confidently reached out for both of Tommy's hands, holding them in his shaky own from the alcohol.
He stared down at them, gently squeezing them and stroking his palms with his thumbs. Tommy watched silently, flushing at the sensation which shot through his body.
It was a warm and tender gesture, which left Tommy's heart thudding aggressively and desperate for more contact. Every single soft caress left him feeling slightly weak at the contact. It felt that overstimulating tingling sensation on his palms which made Tommy feel undone by just simple handholding.
His lips twitched as he glanced back up to Len, who was watching him with soft eyes.
"Tommy," Len uttered as if it were a prayer. Tommy exhaled, unconsciously wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue as he stared into Len's pale blue eyes, swimming with raw emotion.
He shuffled where he sat under the covers, seeing Len move closer so their knees were touching between the light fabric of the duvet.
Tommy tried to forget the fact he wasn't sober, that he was quite drunk and definitely wouldn't remember this, and decided he wasn't acting entirely by himself. It was just the alcohol.
"Len," He chirped back in response, like a loyal dog. He watched with desperate eyes, sparkling with unspoken words. His hands felt numb and weak under his touch.
Len stared at him, hiccuping, his moves slurred and hazed from his drinking. "Happy first live show. Here's to many more." He grinned, laughing softly to himself as he squeezed Tommy's hands tightly in reassurance. "Sorry again."
Tommy sighed, nodding gently and chuckling to himself. He shook his head in a dismissive manner, his lips upturned in a tender, light smile. "It's... It's okay, Len. Cheers to that." He responded in forgiveness, aware he couldn't hold a grudge against the jovial man for too long.
Len perked, his shoulders relaxing in relief in the subtle offering of peace. He chortled, petting Tommy's hands in grateful appreciation.
"Thank you."
Tommy was about to reply modestly and brush the whole affair away, but Len let go of his hands, much to his sudden dismay. But then he scuffled in a drunken manner and surged forwards.
He pushed Tommy backwards in an accidental rough manner as he wrapped his arms around his slim torso tightly and shuffled between his legs in a warm, affectionate hug. Len let himself bury his face into the crook of Tommy's neck, exhaling hot breath onto the sensitive skin and squeeze around him tightly.
Tommy froze up, his whole body feeling hot under the unexpected contact. He fretted Len could hear his rapidly fluttering heart in his ribcage. His arms slowly slinked to wrap around Len's own torso in an instinctive manner, hesitant and shy.
Tommy's nose wrinkled at the poignant and familiar stench of liquor bleeding off the man, but he dismissed it and let his chin rest on the top of Len's head, rubbing his cheek into his hair.
They stayed in that affectionate position for a good while, rocking each other gently and enjoying the rather romantic embrace (at-least in Tommy's eyes). He could feel the light shake in Len's unsteady hands, frowning subconsciously at his drunken state, feeling a strange protective responsibility over the man that clung to him so apologetically.
Tommy resisted the desperate urge to press a kiss to his forehead.
Len pulled away slightly, his heart aching solemnly at the realisation they couldn't stay intertwined forever.
Suddenly, the taller man's hand against his back awkwardly moved higher to support himself with the shift. Len stared upwards at him with an ambiguous expression, his eyes flitting from Tommy's own eyes to his lips frequently, seemingly attempting to gauge his reaction.
Tommy gazed back longingly in the silence, trying to study what the drunken Len beneath him wanted or was attempting to do.
Len seemed to consider his options, before closing his eyes and unexpectedly leaning upwards to press an unanticipatedly fond kiss to his mouth, interlocking their lips in a vulnerable, adoring manner.
Oh.
Tommy went rigid under the touch. He knew that Len was drunk. He knew he wasn't acting entirely consciously. But his heart ached so deeply as he melted into the tender kiss, letting out a sound akin to a content whimper. Tommy let his eyes flutter shut in response. His hands stiffening around Len's back, running his palms against the expanse as he reciprocated the lips pressing against his that he so longed for.
He had dreamed about this for years. He couldn't quite believe it, but subconsciously he knew it wasn't quite real - but his heart swelled with heat all the same.
Tommy felt like they were intertwined so deeply. He hated feeling so soppy and weak, but it was true. It was so, so true.
Len's lips were slightly wet and soft, pale and pink. They clashed violently with the rough and stiff lips of Tommy, but they seemed to slip together so seamlessly in the motion. He could taste the strong, lingering sting of whatever alcohol Len had drank. He wondered if Len could taste the mint toothpaste Tommy had used.
After 10 seconds which felt like 10 years, Len pulled away slightly flushed in the cheeks from the action and from his drunkenness. Tommy was red with embarrassment and shock, his heart thumping wildly as he swelled with an unbearably warm sensation. It ate at him like a parasite, like he was getting bitten and torn to shreds so violently by rabid animals by the sheer overwhelming emotions.
Their lips were slightly swollen and tinted pink, wet when they pulled away.
Tommy stared like a hungry, desperate man, eyes scanning for any conscious reciprocation. But Len just seemed to smile dopily in his intoxicated state at him, strangely affectionate.
They stayed like that for a while - touch-starved and adoring of one another. Tommy would never admit how much he loved Len because he knew he didn't feel the same way, so strongly and deeply. He had a family. He'd never have Tommy like that.
But the way Len gazed up as if Tommy made the whole universe complete gave him a small shine of hope that kept him so passionately, so burningly alive and raw and real. Maybe there was hope for him.
The silence engulfed the room, as if the whole world fell quiet for them only.
"... Love you, Tommy." Len muttered so softly he thought if he was any further away he wouldn't have heard it. Tommy's features shifted and his shoulders slumped. He gazed so affectionately back.
There was quiet hesitation as he murmured something incoherent, trying to get his words out. He unconsciously responded in a similarly low, hushed tone - as if it were a secret.
"I... I love you too, Len." Tommy replied in reassurance, wanting to capture this private moment forevermore. He wanted to live in it forever.
The taller man grinned at him lazily, his eyes lidded and face flushed as he squeezed Tommy adoringly in a loose hug. He stared for a few more moments, his emotions so indecipherable to Tommy at that very time.
Len pulled away, before awkwardly shifting off the white duvet covers and stumbling onto his feet on the small room's floor. He slowly put his shoes back on, haphazardly stumbling to where he had dropped his suit blazer.
Tommy watched him in a bewildered manner, lost in thought in what the hell had just happened. He watched as Len turned around again, grinning deliriously at him before staggering behind the wall again, fiddling with the door. He heard the soft shutting of the wooden door, and the click of it locking behind him.
And then he was gone.
Tommy sat, dazed and confused, panting heavily to himself as he vainly attempted to regain what was left of his composure after that. His heart thudded violently in his chest, hammering against his ribcage. For one naive second he thought it might break out.
He reluctantly slipped under the covers against, now ruffled and wrinkled from where Len once sat. He let his head hit the cotton pillow, his hair splayed against it as he eventually clicked the bedside lamp off again. Tommy curled back into his previous position, the spare pillow cradled against him.
And if he pretended that it was Len again? Well, that was nobody's business but his own.
And if he stayed up awake for a good while longer before drifting to sleep thinking about the lingering taste and feeling of Len's lips pressed against his own? Well, who else would know?
Tommy woke up the next day, still perplexed and dazed from the kiss. He spent a lot of the morning reserved and lost within his own thoughts. Slinking about in a dazed manner from room to room. When Len eventually emerged from his room, sickly and exhausted, he felt warm under the collar and strangely expectant.
Tommy then found out that Len had no recollection of the previous night's events due to his drunken state.
Oh.
He felt strangely disappointed.
And if he spent the rest of the day slightly more miserable and pessimistic than usual? Well, no one said anything about it.