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stephanometraOkay, seriously, this is a level of metaficcish and creepy-odd that even I would usually shy away from, but I wrote this in chat tonight and then everyone was like "ZOMG POST THAT," so. 670-odd words of vaguely Sean/Tom fic, referencing the podcast of doom.
Title: listening party
Pairing: Sean/Tom
Rating: PG
Summary: "So," he says cautiously as they climb the stairs. "Seriously. Team what?"
Warnings: none
Notes: For empires chat, with love. ♥ Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rhombal for the beta.
***
So the radio thing was amazing. The acoustics, the instant messages, the awesome calls from fans -- all of it. Amazing. It's not as good as playing a show, not as good a connection as Sean can make when there's only a microphone separating him and the audience, but he'll take it.
They go out together to celebrate, after, all five of them, and Sean seriously can't get over it, can't stop thinking about how amazing it was.
"We should do that again," he says over pizza, at the bar after, over and over again. "We should definitely do that again."
"Only if Carmen Electra's there," Ryan says, high-fiving Al across the table, and they all laugh.
They're all riding high all the way into the evening, all bright eyes and happy smiles right up until he and Tom tell the guys goodnight and head back to the apartment. But as soon as it's just the two of them, Tom withdraws into himself a little, gets that look that Tom gets whenever he can't stop thinking about something he knows he should let go.
Sean knows that look. He's the only one who gets to see that side of Tom, most of the time. Jon gets it when Jon's around, but -- well. These days, Sean knows that look pretty well, just like he knows what usually brings it on.
"So," he says cautiously as they climb the stairs. "Seriously. Team what?"
Tom fumbles his keys as he pulls them from his pocket. "It's really nothing," he says, slotting his key into the lock and pushing open the door. "I told you not to worry about it."
Sean sighs. He pulls at Tom's sleeve, goes and flops down the couch. "Don't be like that, dickhead. I know it's not nothing."
Tom sits down next to him, tense and careful, their thighs barely touching. "It's nothing you should be worrying about."
"Hey," Sean says, knocking their shoulders together. "You're worrying about it. I can't really help it."
And Tom doesn't really have anything to say to that, just sits there with his mouth a neutral line, but the set of his shoulders, the dip between his eyebrows -- he's all tension, like he's wound too tight.
Sean does the only thing he can do: he reaches up and tugs on Tom's hair and starts talking about the first ridiculous thing that pops into his head. "So that girl, with the listening party."
"Yeah?" Tom mumbles.
"We should have a listening party."
Tom's lip twitches. "We don't need a listening party. They're our songs; we already know what they sound like."
"I wasn't talking about Howl," Sean says. "Our listening party should be for, like. Purple Rain, or something. Yeah, we should have a Purple Rain listening party."
"What." Tom tilts his head, gives Sean a long-suffering, I'm-not-humoring-you kind of look. "You want to do a group listen of a Prince record."
Sean nods solemnly. "And talk about it on AIM."
Rolling his eyes, Tom says, "You don't know how to work an instant messenger, Sean." But some of the stiffness has gone out of his posture, and he's leaning into Sean's side a little, like a normal person instead of a compressed spring.
Sean grins, doing a victorious mental fistpump. "I could learn. Stranger things have happened."
They're quiet for a moment, companionable, and then Tom sighs and lays his head on Sean's shoulder. "I don't actually have a copy of Purple Rain," he confesses.
"We could go buy one," Sean says.
Tom shakes his head. "Call Patrick. I bet he's got an extra copy." He smiles wryly. "Or nine."
"In case of Hemingway, I bet." Sean nods. "Yeah, that could work. You want to?"
"Hmm," Tom murmurs against Sean's shoulder, his exhale fluttering the string on Sean's hoodie. "No. Wanna stay here."
Sean hums back, shifting so he can wrap an arm around Tom's shoulders, pressing a feather-light kiss to Tom's temple. "Okay."
-
And then they had sex.
The end.
***
Title: listening party
Pairing: Sean/Tom
Rating: PG
Summary: "So," he says cautiously as they climb the stairs. "Seriously. Team what?"
Warnings: none
Notes: For empires chat, with love. ♥ Thanks to
rhombal for the beta.So the radio thing was amazing. The acoustics, the instant messages, the awesome calls from fans -- all of it. Amazing. It's not as good as playing a show, not as good a connection as Sean can make when there's only a microphone separating him and the audience, but he'll take it.
They go out together to celebrate, after, all five of them, and Sean seriously can't get over it, can't stop thinking about how amazing it was.
"We should do that again," he says over pizza, at the bar after, over and over again. "We should definitely do that again."
"Only if Carmen Electra's there," Ryan says, high-fiving Al across the table, and they all laugh.
They're all riding high all the way into the evening, all bright eyes and happy smiles right up until he and Tom tell the guys goodnight and head back to the apartment. But as soon as it's just the two of them, Tom withdraws into himself a little, gets that look that Tom gets whenever he can't stop thinking about something he knows he should let go.
Sean knows that look. He's the only one who gets to see that side of Tom, most of the time. Jon gets it when Jon's around, but -- well. These days, Sean knows that look pretty well, just like he knows what usually brings it on.
"So," he says cautiously as they climb the stairs. "Seriously. Team what?"
Tom fumbles his keys as he pulls them from his pocket. "It's really nothing," he says, slotting his key into the lock and pushing open the door. "I told you not to worry about it."
Sean sighs. He pulls at Tom's sleeve, goes and flops down the couch. "Don't be like that, dickhead. I know it's not nothing."
Tom sits down next to him, tense and careful, their thighs barely touching. "It's nothing you should be worrying about."
"Hey," Sean says, knocking their shoulders together. "You're worrying about it. I can't really help it."
And Tom doesn't really have anything to say to that, just sits there with his mouth a neutral line, but the set of his shoulders, the dip between his eyebrows -- he's all tension, like he's wound too tight.
Sean does the only thing he can do: he reaches up and tugs on Tom's hair and starts talking about the first ridiculous thing that pops into his head. "So that girl, with the listening party."
"Yeah?" Tom mumbles.
"We should have a listening party."
Tom's lip twitches. "We don't need a listening party. They're our songs; we already know what they sound like."
"I wasn't talking about Howl," Sean says. "Our listening party should be for, like. Purple Rain, or something. Yeah, we should have a Purple Rain listening party."
"What." Tom tilts his head, gives Sean a long-suffering, I'm-not-humoring-you kind of look. "You want to do a group listen of a Prince record."
Sean nods solemnly. "And talk about it on AIM."
Rolling his eyes, Tom says, "You don't know how to work an instant messenger, Sean." But some of the stiffness has gone out of his posture, and he's leaning into Sean's side a little, like a normal person instead of a compressed spring.
Sean grins, doing a victorious mental fistpump. "I could learn. Stranger things have happened."
They're quiet for a moment, companionable, and then Tom sighs and lays his head on Sean's shoulder. "I don't actually have a copy of Purple Rain," he confesses.
"We could go buy one," Sean says.
Tom shakes his head. "Call Patrick. I bet he's got an extra copy." He smiles wryly. "Or nine."
"In case of Hemingway, I bet." Sean nods. "Yeah, that could work. You want to?"
"Hmm," Tom murmurs against Sean's shoulder, his exhale fluttering the string on Sean's hoodie. "No. Wanna stay here."
Sean hums back, shifting so he can wrap an arm around Tom's shoulders, pressing a feather-light kiss to Tom's temple. "Okay."
-
And then they had sex.
The end.
