Anyone want a fic for my YA reboot? You’re gonna get one either way so
“I thought I told you to stop breaking into my apartment.”
Tommy doesn’t bother to turn around, just swirls his spoon through the cereal again and says primly, “It’s not breaking in if I have a key.”
“I didn’t give you a key,” Eli says, voice short. Tommy watches out of the corner of his eye as Eli sets his work bag down by the door, hanging his coat on the row of hooks by the doorframe.
“You didn’t have to,” he says lightly, a little smug. “Your mother did.”
“My mother,” Eli repeats. He steps on the other side of the counter, resting his hands on the tile and looking down at Tommy.
Tommy grins. “Yeah, your mother. I asked if she had a spare key to your apartment, and she gave me one.”
“My mom gave you a key to my apartment.”
“I don’t know why you sound so surprised,” Tommy says dryly. “Sarah Gail loves me. She’s a wonderful woman.”
“Don’t call my mom by her first name, dude,” Eli huffs. “Did she really give you a key?”
“Yeah, she did. She thinks it’s lovely that you’re seeing your friends again, by the way.”
Eli’s brows scrunch together, and his lips twitch. “I have friends.”
“She didn’t seem to think so,” Tommy says, waving a hand. “Anyway, I didn’t break in.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I’ve changed,” he argues, smirking as he leans forward on his elbows. Eli stares down at him, unimpressed. “What? I have.”
“Excuse how difficult I find that to believe,” Eli grumbles. “What do you want?”
“Right now?” Tommy shrugs. “For you to stock your fridge better. Why is all the food you own health nut shit? You’re a super soldier anyway. It doesn’t matter.”
“It’s the principle,” Eli says bluntly. “And for the record, I like it.”
“The principle of what, being a stick in the mud?” He leans back, nearly slipping off Eli’s barstool. “Geez, Arizona certainly didn’t make you any more fun, did it?”
“Tommy,” Eli snaps, sounding cross. Tommy scowls at him, flopping forward onto the counter, narrowly missing the bowl of cereal. “Why are you here, Speed?”
“Speed,” Tommy mumbles, cheek mashed against the tile. He stares hard at Eli’s hands, watching the way his muscles flex. “I thought you didn’t call me that anymore, huh?”
“If you’re just here to be an asshole, I’m kicking you out.”
Eli moves, stepping away from the conversation, and Tommy quickly says, “I’m always an asshole,” just to get him to stay.
It doesn’t work. Eli ducks by his bag, beginning to unpack. “I’m not playing along. Tell me, or get out.”
“You used to love playing along,” Tommy huffs. Eli scowls.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. You love fighting.”
“Tommy,” Eli warns again, and he throws his hands up, kicking the barstool back until it tips, waiting as long as he can before he has to catch himself.
“What do you want me to say, Eli? What do you want me to tell you, huh?”
Eli drops a notebook on the counter, pressing his knee against the back of the stool until it straightens. They aren’t touching, but it’s close, and Tommy a little bit feels like the world narrows, then, just to the distance between Eli and him, the little way Eli frowns at him.
“Just tell me why you’re here,” Eli says. Tommy looks at him over his shoulder, the apartment suddenly very quiet in the not-quite-space between them.
“Kate’s back in New York,” he says, before he can stop himself. Eli hums, stepping back, away, and Tommy distracts himself from the loss by slipping past Eli and throwing himself on the couch instead, quick enough that it makes Eli startle a bit when he notices.
Tommy always misses surprising him, honestly.
“I heard,” Eli says. “And? What, did you two hook up again?”
His face flushes hot, and he snaps, “No, screw you.”
Eli gives him an odd look, and says dryly, “It’s a fair question. I thought you and… what was his name?”
“David,” Tommy mumbles, the word cutting his tongue as he says it. If he focuses, he can almost swear he tastes the blood. “Don’t act like you don’t know that, I know you do.”
“Maybe,” Eli says. “I thought you two broke up?”
He crosses his arms over his chest, heartbeat loud in his ears. “We did.”
The words hit worse than a gut punch. We did, because… they did. Fact of the matter. They broke up.
Tommy tries not to let it hurt.
If the sting of tears behind his eyes is any indicator, he fails.
“Right,” Eli says. “So do you and Kate only get together when she breaks it off with someone? I would’ve figured it went both ways.”
“Don’t be a dick,” Tommy hisses, and Eli frowns.
“I’m not.”
“Well, Kate and I didn’t do anything, no.”
Eli stares at him, eyes dark, focused. “So? Why are you here?”
Tommy opens his mouth, and then the world… skips. Blurs. Like a needle being dragged the wrong way on a record, and then he is sitting at Eli’s counter again, spoon in hand, and behind him, Eli says, “I thought I told you to stop breaking into my apartment.”
Tommy lets his head fall against the tile, the pounding headache behind his temples getting worse, and ignores the taste of blood in his mouth that is very real, this time.
“It’s not breaking in if I have a key,” he says, and starts the script again.
