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the gentle outline of the country we are building by swishandflick for Crooked Big Bang 2020

It takes spending the night in one room with a king-sized bed for Jon, Lovett, and Tommy to finally get it right after nearly half a decade of trying.

AKA A story about Jon, Tommy, and Lovett getting together, aided and abetted by Jon’s technological ineptitude, misunderstandings, love, friendship, and longing.

#go read this rn!#it was so fun to make art for!#crooked big bang 2020 #fic rec #art #tommyjonjon #video

“i feel like everyone’s miles away from me.” ot3

Tommy is awake when his phone rings, because of course he is. Beside him, Jon gives a snore that sounds like a complaint, and flops over, burying his face in the pillow. Tommy swings his legs out of bed, answers the phone on his way into the living room without looking at the screen.

It’s his personal phone, not his BlackBerry, but his heart rate is up all the same when he says, “Hello?”

Lovett says, croakily, “Hey, did I wake you up?”

Relief hits at the same time as a new concern bubbles up in his chest. Tommy sinks onto the couch, doing the math. Four AM here, so it’s one in the morning in LA. “No,” he says, honestly.

“What the fuck,” Lovett says. “I should have woken you up. Honestly, Tommy, isn’t Jon looking after you at all?”

“Thanks,” Tommy says, instead of saying, why are you awake? “And I can look after myself.”

Lovett sniffs. “Clearly not, if you’re still not sleeping,” he says, but even over the phone Tommy can tell his heart’s not in it. He pulls his legs up onto the couch, grabs for the blanket slung over the back. Lovett had bought it the last time he’d visited, claimed it was for his own good now that he was used to LA weather and would definitely freeze to death in the icy expanse of Jon’s very temperately heated apartment, but Tommy had seen the way Lovett had watched the two of them bundle up under it, the way his expression had turned soft, pleased, like he was nurturing something he didn’t want to break.

“You okay?” Tommy asks, knowing the answer. “You can talk to me.”

“I know,” Lovett says, and sniffs again. Sometimes it’s easier for Lovett to be vulnerable when he’s alone, much as Tommy wishes it were otherwise. He wants to be there. He wants Lovett to be here. “I called you.”

“I’m rolling my eyes,” Tommy tells him. “You can’t see it, but I am.”

“Pithy,” Lovett says, and goes quiet again. Tommy waits, and doesn’t say anything.

This is one of those moments Lovett is always talking about. Liminal space. The early hours of the morning in the dark living room, the feeling of the soft blanket over his shoulders and Lovett breathing on the other end of the phone.

Lovett blows out a frustrated, wobbly breath. “I just,” he says, “I feel like – I feel like everyone’s miles away from me. And you are, so. It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it. It just. That’s how it is.”

That is how it is, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t sit under Tommy’s breastbone like a foreign object, splintering and unwelcome.

“Lovett,” he says. He doesn’t know where he’s going with it, but he has to say something. Lovett is miles away. They’re miles away from him, from his laugh and his grumpy mornings and the way he hogs the duvet and drinks the last of the coffee. From all the things that make him theirs, that just can’t be replicated properly over the phone, over Skype. “We miss you,” he says, voice thick. “We really –”

Jon is in the doorway suddenly, sleep rumpled. “Lovett?” he says, padding over to the couch, and then, leaning into the phone: “What is it? Is everything okay?”

Tommy drapes the blanket over Jon’s bare legs, nestling in closer.

“Why are you awake?” Lovett says, in place of hello. “I thought you were sleeping. You should both be asleep, fucking hell.”

Jon catches Tommy’s eye: they can both hear it in Lovett’s voice, the happiness that they’re not, that they’re with him, alongside the genuine irritation about their general level of exhaustion that he had even in the White House, even when it was his level too. Lovett’s care is couched in annoyance, sometimes, and it settles warm against Tommy’s skin.

“I’m not asleep,” Jon says, quietly. He’s pressed against Tommy so they can both hear and don’t have to put the phone on speaker; the three of them caught in this middle of the night bubble, the living room dark and Lovett’s voice clear. “We’re here. We’re here with you.”

#slowly these are happening! slooooooowly #my fic #prompt fills #tommyjonjon #Anonymous

lovett: you know, there’s a beautiful and sad passage of the movie slaughterhouse-five about how everyone was a baby once and about what happens if you run a war backwards

tommy: the movie slaughterhouse-five?

lovett: yeah, tommy, the movie!

tommy: you, uh, ever read? You ever read books?

[...]

favs: so if you’re a new parent! if you’ve never read a book, like jon!

when tommy and favs (favs!) accused lovett of illiteracy on the pod today (8/14) i was instantly thrust into a dizzying alternate reality where lovett is the sweet gq pinup who struggles with basic math and favs is the mordant wit who complains about going to bed lonely and then i realized they probably just bodyswapped at some point last night, which is great, i wish them luck in working it out in the usual way

#jonlo #tommyjonjon #podsa