Tom had mostly done it out of spite to be honest. George tells him not to eat an entire cake? Well then, he’s going to eat the entire cake. Sure, he’s a 38 year old man, but he’s got to have some fun and he doesn’t have anything better to do.
But from now on, he’s going to listen to anything George says because he can now fully say that this was a terrible idea.
He must admit that he’s playing it up a bit though. Currently, he’s rolling around on the floor under the table clutching his stomach and moaning dramatically. Although it does hurt.
“Bobbbbb, help meee, I’m dyinggggg.”
Bob rushes around looking flustered and frantic, muttering about irresponsible children and how you can’t even leave them alone for two minutes.
“Lemme go get George, because I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.” He rushes out without waiting for an answer and Tom grins to himself. Not so dead inside and uncaring as you pretend to be right Bob? The grin turns into a grimace as his stomach pinches uncomfortably. He hears footsteps approaching and can hear the moment George realizes what’s happened when he sees the mostly eaten cake on the table.
“Oh Tommy,” he sighs exasperated, but when Tom lets out a (slightly exaggerated, ok maybe more than slightly) whimper of discontent the look softens.
“Bob love, sit down and elevate his head so he doesn’t accidently throw up. Best way is to lay his head down on your lap.” He turns to the cabinet and starts rifling through it for a hot water bottle. Bob sits down and pulls him into position. His hand hesitates in the air for a moment before he starts awkwardly stroking his long locks. When Tom melts into his touch and nearly purrs, he gives him a crooked smile.
“Just like a little kitten aren’t you Tommy?” He ruffles his hair.
“Heyyy, stop teasing! I’m sick, you’re supposed to be taking care of me,” he pouts. Just then George returns with a hot water bottle and rests it against his stomach. Tom lets out a moan of relief, as he feels the cramps start to lessen and curls himself around it. He grabs one of George hands and one of Bob’s and pulls them down so they’re all wrapped around each other on the floor.
“There, now none of you are allowed to leave or the agonizing pain will begin again and I’ll scream the whole house awake with my sorrows.”
It’s a weak excuse, but Tom considers it a victory when none of them protest. And if their combined warmth helps his stomach pain more than the hot water bottle, well he can keep that to himself.
