"What are you still doing up? The moon is halfway across the sky already."
"…couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop…thinking."
"…about what?"
"…it feels weird to be here. To be…home. After so long. "
"…"
"Not bad! I don’t mean it in an unpleasant way, it’s just…different. But…not?"
"Elaborate."
"I mean….it’s mostly the same. Same halls. Same rooms. Same Cookies, for the most part. But it doesn’t…it doesn’t quite feel the same. It doesn’t quite….feel like home yet."
"…I understand. Change takes time. We’ve both done a fair bit of it. I’m sure you will grow accustomed in time."
"Yeah…"
"…"
"The stars were always the same though."
"Pardon?"
"The stars. No matter where I went…they always looked the same. It was the only piece of home I could ever take with me, I suppose."
"...I see."
"Sorry, if that sounds a bit foolish."
"No. It doesn't. The stars are magnificent tonight. They deserve to be appreciated. …I think I’ll stay up a while longer myself."
"Don’t you have to rise early tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow will come. Let’s enjoy tonight first. Together."
Today feels quite surreal to me. Yesterday was the last night I spent in my old home, the home I've lived in since I was 6 years old. I'm nearly 21 now. It's impossible to keep track of the amount of changing I've done in that time; in many ways I'm a completely different person than I used to be, and in other ways I hardly feel like I've changed at all.
I'm not sure how well I'm going to adapt to this. Maybe it'll be easy, maybe it won't be, but there's no stopping tomorrow from coming. Posts may slow down for a little while while I get settled, but I'm still working on stuff for you guys.
The stars will be the same, no matter where I live. Everything will be okay.
"I am not packing your kitchen, Buck," Maddie says with a hard set to her jaw and a hand planted on her hip, and Evan sends her a warning look over his shoulder, elbow deep in packing tape and half-folded boxes. Tommy is clearly missing something.
"You found the ring cutter in there with the ladles too, huh?" Snipes Eddie from somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom, and before Tommy can get a firm grasp on that Eddie's tipping his head back through the open doorway. "C'mon guys, seriously, you didn't pack this shit up before you forced us all to help you pack?" There's an unopened tube of lube in his hand.
"I'm getting things off of walls and that is all, Evan Buckley," comes Maddie's quick rejoinder, and Buck levels them both with a look.
"That could be for normal stuff! Sometimes rings need cutting! Sometimes you need to - lubricate other things!"
It is, of course, the moment Bobby wanders through the unlocked door.
Tommy's still familiar with the cadence of Hen and Howie, ribbing and mocking a form of endearment for them both, so he's not exactly shocked when Bobby just rolls with it and starts listing off the last fifteen calls they've needed it for. None of those things particularly improve the red rising up Evan's cheekbones, but Tommy catches the grin Bobby's hiding while he sets boxes of pizza up at the kitchen table, cleared of the latest seasonal decor Evan had dragged him through three different department stores to find, not that he could be bothered to care when the very existence of them was all it took to shift Maddie's opinion of him from tolerantly friendly to encouragingly approving.
("This loft was a minimalists wet dream before you were in the picture," she'd told him one evening, after she'd manipulated him into admitting he was terrified this didn't mean the same thing to Evan as it did to him. "He started nesting a month after my wedding, Tommy.")
And now they're here. Watching Evan pretend to be miffed by the teasing while he fights a roll of packing tape.
He's going to miss the upstairs shower, wide enough for two grown men to fit more than comfortably; and the balcony on cooler nights when he could tempt Evan out for a slow dance set to the late-evening traffic; the kitchen island at the perfect height to lift Evan onto and tilt his head up for an angled kiss.
He won't miss the open plan that makes it impossible to do much of anything with a snoring Eddie right below them, the tuba player two doors down who only seems to practice the moment Tommy's head meets the pillow at the end of any random days-long shift, the way the elevator always smells like tuna on Thursday afternoons.
There are things he won't have to miss, of course. Evan, on nights when they just can't make their schedules align well enough to justify the drive time. The extra fluffy towel set Evan had refused to reveal the origin of ("You'll buy your own and leave me, I know you're only with me for my towels."). The pictures plastered to the fridge that Tommy's spent the last few weeks plotting out space for on his own before deciding he'd need a new fridge just to fit them all. The plant he'd bought Evan to appease the grump, the first time he'd dragged him to the farmers market at the ass crack of dawn, lovingly named Herbert. The fancy adjustable bedside lamps Evan had bought the last time he'd caught Tommy squinting down his reading glasses at the book in his hands. Evan.
Christ, he wouldn't have to miss Evan anymore. They'd synched up their schedules more or less as well as they could, but Tommy's spent months now trying to ignore how quickly a sleepless night could turn restful with Evan in his bed - how fitful a night without him there had a habit of being.
Most of the loft is already packed. Evan's wardrobe has been dwindling for weeks now, a box at a time carted from the back of the Jeep up Tommy's drive, through the mud room, down the hall and straight to the closet that had never seen such a shock of color or variety of fabric. They'd sprung for a bigger mattress, once they'd gotten over the sticker shock and remembered how much they'd be saving by paying half a mortgage each with no rent to speak of, and other than the kitchen table most of Evan's other furniture was being donated.
All that really remained were the kitchen supplies Evan hadn't been willing to move until he handed over his keys, a few toiletries, a single drawer of clothes just in case he needed them. Pictures on the walls and stacks of books on the bookshelves - half a decade of life lived in this apartment and most of it was already half unboxed and slowly integrating into the fifteen years Tommy had put into his own solitary life.
Evan finishes taping boxes and makes a beeline for his itemized list, and Tommy has to pretend it's giving him as much grief as Evan's sister and best friend to see the clipboard in action. He's not entirely sure how well he sells it, when even Bobby's shooting him aggrieved looks only to grimace at whatever he finds in Tommy's expression.
And just like that, an hour passes and the pizza disappears; the boxes are loaded into the back of his truck; the kitchen table in Eddie's; and Maddie tugs her brother in for a hug, drags Tommy in for good measure too, kisses them both on the cheek as she leaves; Bobby tucks a wooden box filled with handwritten recipes on note cards into Evan's hand and Tommy pretends not to notice either of their teary eyes; Eddie hefts a six pack out of the otherwise empty fridge and promises to meet them at the house in forty-five.
There's still one picture stuck to the fridge - a candid from the first barbeque Athena and Bobby had hosted after their move, Tommy and Evan backlit by a setting sun, tucked up against each other leaned against a porch railing, and Tommy knuckles at it while Evan does a slow introspective spin to take in the wide expanse of windows and brick. He's still staring when Evan finishes and drifts towards him, hands tucking in at Tommy's waist, chin hooking over his shoulder.
"Is this one staying?"
Evan shakes his head, nose digging into the side of Tommy's neck. "Just wanted to keep it out so it could be the first one we put up."
He remembers the night. Karen had gotten him drunk and added him to the wives group chat. May Grant had stolen half his slice of cake right off his plate and dared him to protest. Jee had spent the entire night calling him Uncle Tommy and thrown a massive fit when she realized he wasn't going home with her to read a bedtime story. Christopher and Denny had spent half an hour trying to teach him how to play Fortnite and then been mystified when he trounced them in Mario Kart. He knows exactly why it's significant to him. "Why this one?" he asks, curving into the cradle of Evan's arms.
Evan's so much better with words than Tommy is, and Tommy's just grateful Evan takes his actions for the things he means with them. "That's the night I knew what our something was gonna be," Evan murmurs, and Tommy tips his chin back and angles his head to catch Evan's lips against his own.
You know that bit when you're packing to move, where you spend maybe 40-60% of the time packing stuff and being super careful to organize it all, writing down what's in the box on the box, etc, and then at some point you just completely run out of spoons and start shoving all the small stuff into random boxes just to get it done?
The crew of Integrity is going through a very long activity where they have to pack stuff up for return. They're having to look up the proper stowage location for things to make sure they go in the right places. They've referred to this as "tedious" and have asked for permission to just stow things where it fits, rather than having to carefully look everything up. LOL, friends, I know exactly how you feel.
Summary: The big guys are getting their apartment back after smoke damage forced them out for a few months. Gladius gets some help from Riley when Illario sends them an unexpected housewarming present. (450 words)
There will be a couple of different snippets for this posting in the next few days, and then they'll be added to the fic on AO3 as one chapter.
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
"Do you know what that is?" Riley asked Gladius, pointing at the large pile of long, wide boxes they had just carried upstairs. Both men stood huffing in the living room, most surfaces covered in the various bags, boxes, and containers the movers had dropped off this morning along with their furniture.
"No idea."
"But it's from Illario?"
"That's what the guy who brought it in said. I think it's a housewarming gift," Gladius shrugged.
The mystery boxes had arrived with several other smaller, easily identifiable things that he'd already taking upstairs himself. A super fancy coffee maker with a wyvern on it that they definitely didn't know how to use. Another one of those multi-cookers with invisible buttons, this one slightly sleeker than the last one. A very fancy toaster. Several boxes of groceries, all carefully packed and sorted into coolers for them to deal with later.
And lastly, the six huge, thin boxes with a leather folio on top which Gladius handed to Riley to look at.
"It's got instructions on how to lift and move the boxes," they both exchanged a look and shrugged as Riley continued. "And a telephone number for the installation service."
"Should we call?"
"Do you know how to install whatever this is?"
"I don't even know what it is. Six TVs?"
"Then yeah, you call," Riley handed him back the folio. "While you do that, I'm going to unpack the fancy-ass beer your shitty boyfriend sent."
A few hours later, after most of the unpacking was done, a light knock at the door announced the arrival of the installation service. A small group of technicians. made quick work of unpacking the boxes and laying out six very large screen panels, the support frame to hang them on, several small speakers, and a lot of wires. A shockingly short time later, they had the whole mess up on the wall and around the room, tested the connectivity, cleaned up the mess, and left.
Riley handed Gladius a beer as they both sat on their new couch, comfortable but not yet familiar, and they both stared at the opposite wall. The entire surface was covered in seamless screen panels, currently showing the highest definition image of the sea lapping the shore in Seheron that either of them had seen. The sounds of the beach and water around them made it feel like they were right there, sitting on the sand.
Both men sat in silence for a while, taking in the scene and enjoying their beer.
"So—"
"I'm not forgiving him," Riley grumbled, taking a sip of his beer. "But maybe he gets only one black eye next time I see him."
"Thanks."
"Maybe."
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
Tags are always no pressure, check this fun thing out, with no expectation of response ❤️
