Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sunlight penetrating their thin curtains is what wakes Tommy up, the throbbing of a headache already greeting him. He doesn't mind, it'll pass. And if it doesn't, he'll take a nap later in the day, because they have nothing planned anyway. Today it's just him and Määnin, nursing their hangovers together. Tommy rolls over on his side, a hand coming up to support his head as he gazes lovingly at Määnin's still sleeping form next to him. The way his chest rises and falls, completely relaxed and at ease, eases some of the tension in Tommy's head. This is all his now, finally. He doesn't smile often, doesn't really have any reason to most of the time. But now he can't help himself, the corners of his mouth lifting in sheer joy. It aches sometimes, in a way he can't express. Now that he has this, he won't let go. Tommy reaches a hand out to brush a strand of hair out of his boyfriend's eyes. He gets to do that now, touch Määnin without hesitation. And that's a privilege he uses to its full potential, whether they're at home, at a gig, somewhere in public, or in Freppa's garage.

It's exhilarating, Tommy thinks. He can't believe it took them so long, took him so long to figure it all out. All of the days they'd not spoken to each other, when they could have had this. Waking up in the same bed after a gig, in their shared apartment. It's bliss, or at least the closest to that Tommy has ever gotten. His grumbling stomach pulls him out of his daydream. He's fully awake now, headache already fading, but it's clear he needs to eat. And so will Määnin once he wakes up. The hangovers always hit him harder, somehow. He went to rehab, once, but it didn't really work the way it should have. At least Tommy doesn't have to pick him up in some ditch somewhere, blackout drunk. They mostly drink together anyway, so Tommy can keep an eye on him, and tuck him into their bed.

Lifting himself up out of the comfort of the warm sheets, Tommy presses a soft kiss to Määnin's temple before shuffling of towards their kitchen. They rarely use it, except for in emergencies, and now is definitely one of those. Tommy hopes there is still food from the last time Freppa did some grocery shopping for them a few days ago. And lo and behold, there are still some eggs. Tommy can fry an egg, he's sure of that. He hasn't tried before, but how hard can it be?

Very hard, as he finds out eventually. First, he had to pick pieces of shell out of the egg mixture. Then, he turned the heat on too high without a skillet on it. The fire had scared him into nearly giving up. But he persevered, because he was fucking hungry, he had to eat something. But the struggle didn't stop there, as he now realised why people put butter or oil in the pan beforehand. It took so much effort to get the omelette out, and even then, it was all in small, weirdly shaped pieces. But he'd done it, and Tommy is proud of himself for a single second, before an arm wraps around his waist from behind, and he squeals. It's Määnin, of course, as he realises then, but the sudden movement had disturbed him. He isn't scared, of course, he's way to tough for that, and Määnin would fight and win from anyone trying to break into their house. Tommy has no reason to be afraid. Instead, he lets himself melt backwards into Määnin's embrace, as he holds a piece of weird-looking omelette up for inspection. Määnin bites down on it without prompting. His lips touch Tommy's fingers briefly, and he feels himself blush. He turns around in Määnin's arms to kiss him properly, though chaste. That can wait. They have all the time in the world, and Tommy can't wait to do it all again tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The night is dark, and so is the apartment when Tommy walks in. That's odd. Usually, Määnin is at home when he finishes his late shift, sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, watching something he pretends to be interested in. In reality, he's just waiting for Tommy to come back. But now he's nowhere to be seen, and a tendril of worry creeps around Tommy's heart. Did something happen? Did he go out and relapse? That was something Määnin's counsellor had brought up as a possibility. Staying sober wasn't an easy feat, they've learned that together. But Tommy and Freppa had done their bests to support Määnin, which meant Tommy couldn't drink anymore either. He doesn't mind, strawberry Trip is lovely too, and he knows how much it means to his boyfriend.

But the fear remains, the idea of Määnin somewhere in a ditch making Tommy's breath come in sharp and rapid bursts. The onset of what he now recognises as a panic attack. He tries to remember what his own therapist had told him about dealing with those, but his mind comes up blank. Then he spots the light coming under the bedroom door. That's where Määnin must be. He breathes a sigh of relief as he makes his way towards the door. His boyfriend is safe, and probably just went to bed early for once. As he pushes the handle down, Tommy becomes aware of some sounds on the other side. Sounds that he's only ever heard Määnin make when they were together. He pushes the door open with a bit too much force, worried about what he might find. It bashes against the wall as it flies open, startling Määnin and a faceless figure, who'd just been making out on the bed. Their bed, Tommy thinks vaguely, before his vision goes black. 

He comes to gasping for air, lungs empty, heart racing. He's in bed, but he doesn't know how he got there. He can't imagine sleeping where Määnin erased their life together. There's a hand on his stomach, another on his hip, rubbing comforting circles. The fingertips are calloused from years of playing bass. He recognises those fingers, doesn't need to turn around. It was all a dream. Of course Määnin wouldn't betray him like that. But his breathing doesn't seem to want to even out, panic still coursing through his veins, leaving him shaking. Määnin's presence remains steady behind him, pulling them closer together. Back pressed to chest, Tommy’s brain finally catches up with the fact that everything is fine. Määnin is here, sober and his, and that's all that matters. And anyone who wants to change that can fuck off. His breathing calms slowly, settling into a more sustainable rhythm, as Määnin brushes his nose against Tommy's neck. He plants a kiss there, fingers still tracing their soft patterns on bare skin. He could fall asleep again like this. But the sun coming through their cheap curtains signals that day has arrived, meaning they should get up. The world doesn't stop spinning because he's comfortable, Tommy has to work to get to. He moves to get up, but Määnin pulls him down again, grip tight. 

'Stay here, you have time. I'll get us some food.' A grateful smile as Määnin extricates himself from their cuddle, leaving Tommy feeling instantly colder. That's another thing that has changed since Määnin stopped drinking. He cooks now, needing a hobby he can throw himself fully into. He's mellowed too, which apparently is something that not constantly being drunk can do. At least, that's what the counsellor said, Tommy's not an expert.

From the kitchen, he hears the sounds of what could be cooking but also indoor renovation. He hopes it's the former. Though another panic attack remains at bay, he doesn't think he can deal with his boyfriend redecorating this early in the morning. But after a few minutes, the smell of pancakes carries through the open door into the bedroom, and Tommy swings his legs out of bed. Määnin’s pancakes are his one weakness, the first thing he'd learned to cook after getting out of rehab. They had kissed then for the first time, Tommy on the kitchen island, surrounded by failed attempts, Määnin between his legs, looking up. Now Määnin bakes pancakes whenever anyone he know is sad or stressed. He still isn’t a great talker, rarely opening up to anyone. But pancakes are his love language, and Tommy is more than happy to eat them. They taste like the home they've created together. And sometimes the edges are burned, sometimes they fight. But the next batch can always turn out better.

Chapter Text

The setting sun casts a golden light over the fields next to Freppa's house. None of the three jeans-clad men pays attention to the display next to them, too busy playfully yelling at each other. For their bi-weekly band get-together, Freppa had suggested playing a card game, but he could never have predicted the absolute chaos that awaited them. Tommy, as it turns out, cannot obey any rule to save his life. He'd complained loudly when Freppa explained the rules, saying he already knew them, but now it turned out that was not the case. He kept laying down the wrong cards, seemingly following entirely different rules than the others. Freppa doesn't have the heart to tell him, and Määnin has too much fun watching him lose his mind to help out. And he's busy cheating, that too. Freppa has resorted to stern glares in his direction, but even those don't seem to help. Whatever, they're having fun. Tommy throws his last card on the table, the wrong one, but neither Freppa nor Määnin says anything about that as he throws his hands up in a victorious gesture. "Good job, baby," Määnin says, a hand coming to rest on Tommy's knee. Tommy flushes, and Freppa refuses to think about why. He rises instead, gathering up the cards. It's almost time for bed, which means luring his friends into the garage first. He doesn't have the energy to go pick them up somewhere in the middle of the night again, so locking them in his garage has been his go-to method for safekeeping for a while now.

After cleaning off the table, Freppa suggests they carry it inside so that it can't get wet if it rains. He conveniently doesn't mention the fact that it isn't supposed to rain for another week. Määnin and Tommy pick the table up together, leaving Freppa with the chairs. He stacks them quickly and follows them to the garage. When he enters, the table is in some corner already, Tommy and Määnin lying intertwined on the sofa. Tommy's face is red, Määnin mumbling in his ear. Freppa slams the chairs down loudly, and they startle apart. "You guys can stay the night here, if you want?" He phrases it as a suggestion, but they know they can't really refuse. Unless they want to walk all the way back home in the dark. They agree easily, without any difficulties, and Freppa walks out, locking the garage behind him. Hopefully, his friends will go to sleep soon, too.

Tommy can't sleep. The pull-out couch is comfortable beneath him, Määnin's arms warm around his waist. He's cosy in every possible regard, but still sleep escapes him. He twists around in Määnin's hold, coming face to face with him. Määnin blinks one eye open.

"What?" His voice is not unkind, but it's clear he's tired.

"I can't sleep," Tommy confesses. He feels embarrassed; normally, he falls asleep immediately next to Määnin. Luckily, Määnin loves him. He gets up, stretching his arms out to pull Tommy to his feet, too. Then he turns around, walks a few steps forward, and Tommy worries he might want to walk all the way back to their place. As if Tommy needs his own bed to feel at home. But instead, he picks a small radio from a shelf, turning it on. From the tiny speakers, a woman's voice emerges. Määnin returns, walking with confidence. He grabs Tommy's hands, placing them on his hips. His own arms snake around Tommy's neck. They sway in silence for a bit, gazing into each other's eyes. If Tommy weren't so enchanted, he'd joke about how gay the whole thing is. Then Määnin leans forward during the chorus, lips brushing his ear. He murmurs along to the song: "Shut up, and kiss me one more time." And who is Tommy to refuse him when he asks so nicely? He surges forward, Määnin's lips meeting his in the middle. The kiss is chaste, breaking apart after only a few seconds. A new song is playing on the radio now, the beat wholly unsuitable for slow dancing to. But they keep swaying in the semi-darkness, foreheads pressed together, matching smiles playing on their lips.