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Summary
“Wanna see what I stole from set?” Tom asks, and when Mark looks up, he’s holding a crumpled bundle of fabric against his chest, eyes gleaming, biting his lip.
“Is that—”
Tom grins wide and unfurls it with a dramatic shake.
It’s a black dress. Thin straps, deep neckline, narrow silhouette, elegant and understated. Seeing it here, in their quiet, messy hotel room, away from the bustle of the set, feels off-putting somehow, disquieting. Out of place.
“What, are you gonna wear that?” he asks.
Tom smiles, sheepish, shy. “No, not for me, dude, but I thought…” He smooths it out a little, the wrinkles falling away as he holds it up with a little more care, black silk in his hands, soft and glossy, and he shrugs, suddenly looking unsure. “I thought maybe you’d want to.”