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Happy Birthday, my darling @leela_cat! Love you like crazy!! ♥
The first time they're together after their two-weeks – seventeen days, five hours, if anyone was counting – of tour and booze-fueled sexcapades, Brian's surprised at how easy it is. He expected awkward tension and instead gets a kiss brushed against his cheek and a, "Good to see you, man."
He blinks, then blinks again. "You too, Tommy Joe."
Lips quirking, like he has the best secret known to man, Tommy says, "This little mini-tour's gonna kick ass, yeah?"
It's enough to kickstart Brian's brain back in gear. Looking around the room, he says, "Only if we're ready for it." Then, louder, "Time to work, people. We've got five days to make sure we're runnin' our A-game."
"Task master," Tommy mutters, shrugging the strap to his guitar over his head. "Don't forget, jackass. You work me more than eight hours, the booze is on you."
Brian damn near stumbles over his feet. Booze. That's how they'd ended up in bed together the first time. Most likely the second too, that one is a little fuzzier. Tommy Joe Ratliff is an octopus when he's drunk. A pretty, clingy octopus that whispers the dirtiest shit to ever be whispered.
Suddenly the smirky tilt of Tommy's lips starts making sense. The boy is planning on getting laid.
By the time rehearsal is over, and the easy familiarity of joking and teasing and flirting is settled in Brian's bones again, getting laid is an idea Brian can totally get behind. He's having trouble remembering why he didn't make time to call Tommy in between all of the rehearsals with The Saturdays.
He's also wondering why the fuck Tommy didn't call him.
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Or the second.
Or even the fourth.
By the time they hit the tarmac six days later, Brian is on guard and intrigued. He's very intrigued. Intrigued enough he's allocated at least half of the twelve-hour flight to getting some answers.
And maybe to stealing a kiss or two. If he can convince the flight attendant to seat them together and in the back corner, where it'll be dark and they're less likely to be on display.
The plan for the back row goes to shit when Adam boosts them all to first class. The seats are bigger and the drinks flow more freely and, considering they're stuck on the damn plane for half of a day, Brian can't find a logical reason to say, "Thanks, but no."
Besides, Tommy will kill him if he pushes them back to economy just to have a conversation.
Two hours into their flight everyone around them finally shuts the fuck up and goes to sleep, Ashley being the hold out, talking and talking and fucking talking until Brian gives serious thought to ball gags and bondage. Problem being, the chick would like it too much and, how hot she is aside, she kind of scares him.
"You gonna be pissed if I drool on your shoulder?"
Brian snorts softly. "You'll end up doing it either way, so does it matter?"
Tommy shrugs. "I could see if there's an empty seat…"
"No," Brains says, fast enough to give something away, assuming that Tommy improved any at reading things like subtle and subtext. The blank look Brian gets in return proves some shit still flies right over the top of Tommy's head. "You crashing?"
"Got ten hours to kill, might as well spend most of it racked out."
"Or," Brian says, reaching and curling his hand over Tommy's, "we could talk some."
Brian's shocked by the conflicting emotions that rush through Tommy's eyes. Hope. Fear. Want. It takes the little bit Brian thought he knew and turns it on its head.
"About what?"
"What?"
"Talk about what?" Tommy says. "Because, really, I thought everything had already been said. You know, with the whole not calling and shit."
"You didn't call either." It's a low blow and, as comebacks go, it ranks among Brian's worst. But it's all that's rattling around in his brain. Right along with, "When you didn't call, I figured it was all just booze-fueled sexcapades."
Tommy's lips twitch. "Sexcapades? Is that even a word?"
"Tommy Joe," Brian sighs. "Stop trying to redirect."
Tommy picks at the polish on his thumb, chipping away pieces of nail with the black paint. "Look, man. I'm not gonna fuck this up for Adam with petty bullshit."
"Fuck this up for…" Brain shakes his head. Tommy's loyalty is one of the things that drew him to the man to begin with. "No one wants to fuck this up for Adam."
"The balance is there, let's not fuck with it." Tommy looks away, then right back to Brian. "It's good, okay. We're good."
"No, we're not," Brian says.
"We are."
"Fine." The word is snapped out between gritted teeth. It's the most Brian will give in to his frustrations. "We're good. But we could be better."
"What? With more sexcapades?" Tommy rolls his eyes. "I'll pass, thanks."
The bitterness in Tommy's voice hits Brian in the gut. A full minute ticks off in silence, Brian turning shit over in his head. If he pushes – and god, jesus fuck, he wants to push – he might break this, them, beyond repair. Or it can turn out to be one the best things ever. Taking a deep breath, Brain says, "Not sexcapades, Tommy Joe. But definitely more. More everything."
"Don't fuck with me, man," Tommy says, a fuckton of hurt showing in his eyes. "If it's game on sex, go hit up someone else for tour play."
"Goddammit, Tommy," Brian mutters. "It's not game on sex, alright. It's I fucked up and didn't call you and you fucked up and didn't call me because we're both men and stupid about shit." Brian pushes the chair arm up and scoots over into Tommy's space. "And it's shit like I missed you and your stupid addiction to slasher flicks and your wretched taste in music and the way you curl up against me and drool on my goddamn shoulder when you're asleep. It's yeah, we're good but, fuck, we could be so much more than just good."
Eyes wide, Tommy looks at Brian and breathes out a soft, "Oh."
"Oh?" Brian presses his forehead against Tommy's, lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment. "You gotta give me more than that, babe."
Licking his lips, Tommy flashes a small, almost coy smile. "I can get behind more than sexcapades."
Brian releases a pent-up breath. "Okay, then."
"Yeah, okay."
Seconds – five, six, ten – pass, and Adam is leaning over their chair back and grinning at them. "Glad you two got that worked out." Then his smile bleeds into a wicked grin and he adds, "And sexcapades? Really? Those are the stories I want to hear on beer night!"
A bubble of laughter works its way out of Brian as Tommy groans and buries his face in his hands. Tugging Tommy close, Brian says, "Go away, Lambert. There will be no telling of sexcapades tonight."
"No," Adam says, "of course not. Tommy still has to drool on your shoulder for all to be right with the world again."
Brian's still grinning when Tommy's breathing settles into the stuttered huffwheezehuff of sleep and the first signs of dampness start staining his shirt.
♥ ♥ ∴ ♥ ♥