Chapter Text
This moment yearning and thoughtful
Walt Whitman (1881)
This moment yearning and thoughtful sitting alone,
It seems to me there are other men in other lands yearning and
thoughtful
It seems to me I can look over and behold them in Germany,
Italy, France, Spain,
Or far, far away, in China, or in Russia or Japan, talking other
dialects,
And it seems to me if I could know those men I should become
attached to them as I do to men in my own lands,
O I know we should be brethren and lovers,
I know I should be happy with them.
August 9, 1998
Tom was paying attention. Really, he was.
If his eyes happened to stray towards the left more than was strictly warranted, well, no one else was the wiser. It had been a long few weeks, and he was only human. Maybe not your average human, but did infatuation discriminate? Again his gaze wandered towards the object of his fascination: Dr. David Levinson, seated at the far end of the boardroom table. David was dressed uncharacteristically nicely– it wasn’t every day that you had the attention of the president and his entourage, after all. Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true, seeing as he and David were in a relationship.
Tom suppressed the grin that just the thought gave him; being able to admit to their fledgling relationship (even in the confines of his mind) was still a novel concept that sent a thrill of unfettered joy jolting through his body. It was equal parts exciting and terrifying how even now, four months later, a mere glance at David sent butterflies careening up into his chest. Was that normal? He tried to think back to those early days with Marilyn– it was so long ago, but he suspected he may have actually acted even more foolish back then.
Alright, focus, he chided himself, forcing his eyes away from David and that quite unprofessionally– yet, attractively– unbuttoned dress shirt of his. Dr. Kim was still in the middle of explaining the latest round of testing.
“As you can see right here…” she tucked a strand of inky black hair behind her ear, replacing the current transparency with a rather technical diagram of the power generator in question. “This chamber in the middle of the machine– we were never able to penetrate it, but based on the low levels of radiation we detected, Dr. Levinson had the idea that perhaps it needed to be exposed to some sort of heat or energy source.”
She gestured towards David, most of the room turning his way. David grinned, a bit shyly, and Tom was barely able to curb a fond roll of his eyes. He saw right through David’s “aw gee shucks” modesty act. David was confident and aware of it, but not to the point where it became insufferable. Tom couldn’t explain it, but he somehow managed the perfect combination of brashness and humble charm, a personality that was able to enrapture any audience– even the scientifically illiterate politicians currently in attendance.
“Once we did that, the energy output increased by… well…” Kim uncapped a dry erase marker and, above the diagram, wrote a 10 followed by one, two, three– Tom lost count of how many zeros. “10 to the power of 10, or 10 billion times.”
She grinned widely, a playful arch to her eyebrows when the room broke out into hushed whispers of amazement. Tom allowed himself an impressed smile– no wonder David had suggested her as his replacement, she sure knew how to hold a room’s attention. The PCAST, President’s Council of Advisors on Science and Technology, was now in her very capable hands.
“What exactly does that mean, though?” asked Janelle Reynolds, seated just to Tom’s right and bearing a vaguely quizzical expression. She was a hell of a VP– and whip smart to boot– but she was a lawyer and, like most of the non-scientists in the room, seemed unsure of the implications of Kim’s mind-boggling number.
“It means that their technology uses nuclear fusion.”
Half the room erupted into animated clamor while the other half turned confused faces on each other. Sensing the imminent questions, Kim hurried to continue.
“Nuclear fusion is the mechanism by which stars produce their energy. It’s also what powered the H bomb.” Kim grimaced for a moment before turning thoughtful. “You can think of it like the opposite of nuclear fission– that’s what we use in nuclear power plants when a single, heavy atomic nucleus is split into smaller nuclei. Fusion on the other hand, is the fusing of those lighter nuclei into a heavy nucleus. This produces a massive amount of energy. But the problem is, it’s hard to harness and use this for, say, energy production. Over the past 30 years, we’ve only been able to achieve fusion for short periods of time and even then, only at large scales. So, the fact that this machine–” she gestured wildly at the diagram on the transparency, “–can achieve fusion! Well, it’s a complete gamechanger.”
And yet still the politicians and military advisors failed to mirror the excitement of the scientists. Kim scratched her head in contemplation.
“If I may–” David hesitantly raised his hand a bit, gathering Kim’s attention who smiled and gestured for him to continue. David turned to address the room at large. “It’s been theorized that nuclear fusion could be sustained if we built a reactor the size of say…100 feet wide. This could sustain fusion for, oh, I don’t know, um, maybe 5 seconds max. All this could be obtained for the low price of, generously speaking, let’s call it 5 billion dollars. And this is theoretical.”
David pointed to the projector screen currently displaying the generator schematic. “This generator, on the other hand, is only a few feet in diameter and is capable of producing the same amount of energy a single coal power plant can churn out in a year. Anyone wanna guess how long it takes to do that?” David smiled, crooked and brimming with good humor.
“7 seconds.”
The scientists at the table were practically vibrating with delight, while the rest of the attendees were finally starting to grasp the magnitude of this discovery. Tom rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, making sure to keep his expression neutral. David had once told him his facial control made him appear aloof and emotionless. That may have been true but it was just as bad, if not worse, to blatantly broadcast one’s inner emotions and thoughts. At least, when you were the president.
This fusion technology could be the kind of scientific breakthrough that only came once in a generation. Sure, they hadn’t discovered the mechanism themselves, but to be invaded by a hostile alien race and not take advantage of the abandoned technology was just plain foolish. The question was, could they harness the tool themselves? How would it be used? Could they duplicate the generator, or scavenge enough to share with the world?
Kim smiled proudly, “Thank you David, I couldn’t have said it better myself! As you may imagine, this kind of leap in energy production is unprecedented. I’ll let David provide the finer details now.”
She moved back to her seat at the large conference table just as David stood from his, bringing with him a folder of materials. He approached the projector, swapping out the transparency for a new one from his own stack. It was full of colorful graphs and charts. “Dr. Kim gave an excellent overview of the machinery of this generator. Now, the one we’ve been studying came directly from the downed scout ship that once sat a few hundred yards outside this very base. As best we can guess, their ships seem to be powered by a cache of these devices. It was, uh, presumably enough to get them here through space, from who knows how far–”
Tom knew. Hundreds, thousands of lightyears. Their home had been at the end of the longest arm of the Milky Way, but they had been speeding away from it for many thousands of years now, each subsequent generation becoming further and further detached from their homeland. Earth was but one of many destinations, a mere layover on their endless journey. Like the rest, it would be conquered, harvested, and consumed– its carbon lifeforce used to sustain them on their neverending trip into the darkness. The current inhabitants were but meaningless insects to be exterminated, destroyed–
“–just imagine the possibilities we can achieve with–”
Underneath the table, Tom dug his nails into his thighs while simultaneously blinking his expression back into one of professional attention.
It was never easy to visit Area 51. Thankfully, he usually managed to send a delegate or perhaps Janelle when needed, but both the president and vice president had been required for this final summit of the Philately Project. It had been over a year since he himself had reason to visit, and the intervening time had somewhat dulled the memory of the place’s power. He had forgotten the way the bright, sterile halls and labs set him on edge, as if his nervous system was constantly prepping for a fight-or-flight response. There was a subtle sort of magnetic pull here, as if invisible tendrils were dragging him down– down to the vault, to where the alien from July 1996 now resided in a fourth hermetically sealed tank. Many others had joined the two he had originally seen two years ago, their bodies discovered during and after the cleanup of the fallen scout ship David had alluded to. He had since visited the vault (the freak show, as Dr. Okun had once fittingly called it), and seen the rows of aliens, each suspended in a thick solution of chemicals. But in the sea of floating creatures, his eyes had been immediately drawn to one near the side, one that looked as the rest did– sickly brown and disfigured. There was nothing to set it apart, and yet he had nearly collapsed under the sudden and alarming weight that pressed into his mind, seeped into each fold of his brain. It was all he could do to escape the vault as quickly as possible and hastily excuse himself to the restroom where he locked himself in a stall, leaning against the door as he panted for breath, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The alien was most assuredly dead– and yet its power over him was so utterly and totally complete that a mere glance at its ghostly eyes, frozen in a perpetual state of unblinking, had been enough to render him completely defenseless.
He had since avoided returning to the vault, but even entering the base was enough. Down here, buried under the scorching Nevada sand, there was a constant, low and thrumming hum in the back of his head, a tension in his body and mind that refused to let up until he was safely above ground again. Maybe it was all in his imagination– after all, the alien was well and dead, he had seen that firsthand. Any psychic connection between them had been severed when Major– now Lieutenant Colonel– Mitchell had shot it.
Or perhaps it wasn’t just his imagination, but something deep inside him, something sinister that lay dormant deep in his psyche, something alien–
He slowly inhaled through his nose, holding the breath for as long as he could before blowing it out surreptitiously. Against his legs, his hands trembled minutely. He repeated the breathing exercise a few more times. Here at Area 51, he seemed much more susceptible to the memories and visions the alien had implanted that fateful day. It wasn’t clear whether that was due to some kind of legitimate lingering telepathic impression from the dead alien below his feet, or some sort of psychosomatic effect from the traumatic mental assault two years ago.
Carefully, Tom exhaled once more and made a conscious effort to unclench his fists from his slacks, the skin underneath stinging from where blunt nails had dug into the flesh. The rapid pace of his heart began to slow to a more even keel. He was alright. He was safe.
David was still passionately ranting about the revolutionary uses for such an energy source. Tom flicked a subtle glance around him– thankfully Janelle to his right and the secretary of energy to his left both seemed engrossed in David’s speech and happily oblivious to his little episode. He directed his attention once more to David, who was grinning like a child on Christmas morning.
“–there would be no need for fossil fuels! We could begin investing in free, clean energy for the world at large!”
The familiar clean energy refrain was a welcome and routine distraction. It was a subject David was known to wax poetic about and, honestly, Tom never tired of his complete and infectious enthusiasm on the topic. Even after the startling alien memory, he couldn’t help but quirk his lips at David’s wild gesticulations. With a monumental effort, Tom forced himself to focus back on the ensuing conversation, and gradually the memories began to fade into the back of his mind. A few of the scientists had technical questions about the exact usage of the new fusion generator while the politicians wanted guidance on how the devices could be scaled up for national and global use.
“What do you think, Tom?” Janelle asked and, as if on cue, all heads swiveled towards him. He fixed his gaze on Dr. Kim’s.
“When can you get started?”
Quietly, Tom slipped into David’s bedroom only to find him softly snoring atop the bed. He was still dressed in his khaki slacks and black button-up, although the shirt had finally been fully unbuttoned to reveal the white tank top underneath. He was lying on his stomach, legs sprawled as if running in place. On his face, his glasses were askew and his mouth open in a way that really should not have been as endearing as Tom found it.
Rounding the bed silently, Tom gingerly eased himself into a lounge chair against the wall. David must have been beyond tired, falling asleep with his glasses on while still dressed in his work attire. Tom divested himself of his own suit jacket, slipped off his tie, and neatly folded them over the arm of the chair.
David looked peaceful, but it was obvious he’d been burning the candle at both ends based on the dark smudges under his eyes. Nearly two years after its inception, the Philately Project had finally paid off, and in spades. Tasked with managing the exploration and research of the fallen alien technology, the team had more than fulfilled their original goals. The discovery of the mini fusion reactor was a revolutionary game changer, and Kim and her team certainly had their work cut out for them now. This was only the beginning.
He was sorely tempted to reach out and run his fingers along the smooth skin of David’s face, but the man was a frustratingly light sleeper, something that, suffice to say, was quite at odds with his own habits. But David deserved his rest, and Tom was loath to wake him from his much-needed sleep. Instead, Tom toed off his shoes, reached down into his briefcase, and retrieved a folder of papers. Clicking a weighty ballpoint, he carefully set it to a sheet of paper that was blank save for the seal of the president. More than a few of these papers had curiously made their way into the hands of one Julius Levinson, a fact which brought an unconscious smile to his lips. Glancing up through his fringe, he paused to study David every now and then, the silence punctuated only by heavy breaths from David and the scritch of pen across paper.
It had been just about four weeks since they had last seen each other. It was entirely too long, but Tom better than anyone knew the demands of the job. David had been sequestered in the Area 51 lab for the better part of a month, feverishly working to prepare for this week’s demonstrations and presentations. The fusion reactor was just one of many discoveries and Drs. Kim and Isaacs had kept the visiting panel of scientists and cabinet members busy for two days straight. The presidential entourage was scheduled to return back to the new capital in St. Louis tomorrow, and the firehose of information provided at this summit would keep them busy for months, maybe even years if all went well.
Tom glanced at his watch. He had forgotten to change the time zone– it was still only 7 pm here. After today’s meetings, he had only just barely had a chance to call Patricia before her bedtime back home in Missouri. It wasn’t often he had time alone to himself, with no duties to attend to, so he took advantage of the lull, quietly continuing his sketch until his hand began to cramp. Thirty minutes had passed, so he set the pen and paper on the nearby nightstand while rubbing wearily at the back of his neck, trying in vain to shake out the tension from hunching over for the past half hour. Just as he was about to pick back up, David began to stir.
“Hey there,” murmured Tom, moving to sit beside David on the bed.
David blinked lazily and rubbed at his eyes, no doubt in that strange post-nap liminal space. “When’d you come in?” He rumbled, voice low and scratchy.
“Not long ago. I didn’t want to wake you.”
David hummed in acknowledgment, eyes still half closed. Reaching out haphazardly, he made a grabbing motion towards Tom. With a chuckle, Tom scooted up until he was sitting against the headboard, then maneuvered David’s head onto his chest.
“I missed you,” he admitted quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of David’s head.
David craned his neck up so they were face to face. “Me too.” He pushed up a bit, gently pressing his lips to Tom’s. When they separated, David was smiling, soft and sleepy and Tom’s heart threatened to spill over.
They sat like that for several minutes, Tom combing his fingers through David’s hair with one hand while the other was wrapped securely around his torso, rhythmically brushing up and down his side. Tom had always been a physical person, a fact that would no doubt be surprising to those who only knew him professionally. Marilyn had often compared him to a cat, the way he would curl up with her– practically purring with contentment, as she had once described it. The memory elicited a tentative smile. It had been over two years since her death and while her loss would forever leave a residual ache, there were now also moments like this– where it was possible for him to remember her with fondness, not the all-consuming and crushing sadness that had been his constant companion for so long.
A cold nose buried into the crook of his neck, jarring him from his introspective thoughts. David’s low timbre physically rumbled against his chest, “What time is it?”
“7:45.” Tom twirled a wavy lock around his index finger, “When’s the last time you slept?”
“Er-” David’s face scrunched up in thought.
“If you have to think about it, it’s been too long.”
David’s eyebrows went sky high and he pulled back enough to incredulously meet Tom’s gaze. “Excuse me? Am I or am I not being lectured about my sleeping habits by the man who routinely gets five hours of sleep?”
“That’s different,” the corner of Tom’s mouth lifted. “I’m the-”
“-president. Yes, yes, don’t I know.” David rolled his eyes, but his teasing grin softened the gesture. “You can’t use that excuse for everything, mister.”
“Well, what’s the point of the job if not?”
David guffawed, shaking his head fondly. His eyes landed on the nightstand, and craning his neck, he asked, “What’ve you got there?”
Tom stiffened a bit, then immediately forced himself to relax; David was like a bloodhound when it came to picking up on lies and half-truths. “Nothing important.”
David focused eagle eyes back on Tom’s face, squinting at the feigned nonchalance he found there. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a lousy liar?”
“Many times.”
“How did you even make it into politics?”
Tom huffed a laugh. “Well, if you believe the press in this country, my hair and youthful looks.”
David’s body shook with silent laughter. “My my, you’re in a mood tonight. I like it.”
“What can I say?” Tom grinned, a sappy, sickly sweet thing. “It’s been a few weeks too long.”
David matched his grin before leaning in for a rather more passionate kiss. Tom eagerly returned the gesture, wrapping arms around David’s lithe frame and–
“Ah-ha,” David pulled back with a triumphant and smug smile, mystery paper in hand. “What have we here?”
Tom sighed, dropping his head back against the headboard with a thunk. He should have predicted as much– David was never one to let things go, the stubborn bastard.
“Tom.” David’s tone was urgent, serious. He stared at the paper in something like shock for several more seconds before focusing his eyes on Tom’s exasperated face. “This is really good. Like– professional good.”
“Stop,” Tom dismissed, reaching for the paper. David, predictably, pulled it out of reach.
“No, really. You better sit there and let me compliment you, dammit. You, my dear president, are really fucking talented.”
Tom could feel his cheeks burning. He was never great at accepting compliments– was anybody?– and even now, a few months into their relationship, the way David handed them out gratuitously and with no self-consciousness still bowled him over.
David sat up next to him, his left side pressed against Tom’s right, and spoke softly. “How long have you been hiding this tortured artist thing?”
“What– tortured artist?” Tom shook his head. “Come on, you didn’t know?”
“And why should I have?”
“You really didn’t pay attention to politics, did you?”
“I believe we’ve already established that. And the only reason I do now is because my– very handsome–” David waggled his eyebrows, a mischievous smile curling his lips. “–partner happens to be the President of the United States.”
“Now that’s too much,” Tom mumbled, trying and failing to suppress a smile.
“I said let me compliment you. Ah-ha, I see that smile, don’t think you’ve got me fooled! The illustrious President Whitmore is in fact rendered speechless by the simple observational fact that he is handsome.”
“I’m starting to wonder why I ever missed you to begin with,” Tom teased.
“It’s not my fault you’re handsome, I’m just stating facts.” David leaned over to press a wet kiss to his cheek, and Tom could feel the curve of a smile within it, the beginnings of a laugh. “But don’t think you’ve thrown me off your scent. So just why is it that I should have known you were harboring this secret talent, hm?”
“Well, I studied fine arts in college.”
David’s mouth hung open just a bit. “And you went into politics?”
“It was only a minor, I majored in history and political science.”
“Of course– you only double majored. And also minored in a completely different field. At Harvard.”
Tom scoffed. “Really? You went to MIT at 16 and have a PhD.”
“So we’re both overachievers,” David shrugged, unperturbed. “But I still don’t understand how I was supposed to know the specifics of your educational background.”
“It became an unexpected talking point back in ‘92 when I first ran for president. You don’t remember that first debate with Keller?” At David’s apologetic smile and headshake, Tom continued. “He repeatedly called me, and I quote, ‘the yuppie southerner’.”
David burst out into laughter. “The yuppie southerner? Please, tell me more.”
“There really wasn’t much more to it,” Tom chuckled a bit at the memory. “I think he was trying to imply I was too conservative for the real yuppies, and too liberal for real southerners. His main defense was that someone who studied art couldn’t possibly represent real Americans, as if that automatically made me elitist and out-of-touch. Never mind the fact that I’m from rural Tennessee…”
“I truly regret not seeing this live.”
“You know, I’m still not really sure who it was supposed to be insulting to: democrats or republicans…”
“Why not both?” David’s laughter petered down, but he was left with a lingering smile, eyes averted down towards the sketch still grasped in his hand. “For real, Tom. This is– seriously good. But um, I am glad you didn’t include the drool.”
Tom rolled his eyes and leaned his head onto David’s shoulder, burying his wide grin in the folds of David’s shirt. Four months into their relationship and still David was able to make his heart flutter with a simple compliment or dazzling smile. That wasn’t to say that jumping into a new relationship, especially in his position, was all smooth sailing, but Tom was surprised to discover that, for the most part, the world simply continued on with little fanfare.
Of course, there had been more than a few necessary changes over the past few months. To begin with, David had stepped down from his position as a scientific advisor to the president, as well as his leadership role in Philately. Despite Tom’s concerns that he would resent the request, David insisted that he did so gladly, claiming that leadership was a demanding position for him anyway. He much preferred getting his hands dirty in the trenches, not sitting in dull meetings all day (“No offense to, uh, your whole job,” he had sheepishly added after the fact.)
It had also been necessary to tell a few folks about their new relationship, simply for liability and logistical reasons. Those conversations included some of the highest ranking secret service agents assigned to Tom’s detail, the press secretary, and– of course– his chief of staff. Connie.
David had already spoken with her in private and reassured Tom that everything would go over smoothly. Still, when the two of them had sat down with her, Tom was surprised to find himself practically vibrating with nerves. Here was the President of the United States, a man able to keep the peace between political parties, negotiate with the world’s greatest leaders, and address millions on live television– all without breaking a sweat. But sit him down with his partner’s ex and all that poise went out the window.
Connie had, as David promised, taken the news quite well. She even seemed genuinely happy for the two of them, eyes lingering fondly on Tom as he nervously worked his way through his list of prepared talking points explaining why their relationship wouldn’t cause professional problems or change anything between the three of them. She had simply laid a hand over his fidgeting one and calmly told him she was happy for him, and that if he hurt David, death would seem like mercy. She then proceeded to turn to David and repeat the same threat. Both had left the encounter dazed and vaguely unsettled, but satisfied.
And then there were the basic logistics of being in a relationship when one of the involved parties was… the president. His life and schedule were– well, chaotic was definitely an understatement. They were lucky if they saw each other twice a month, but at least David had cause to come to St. Louis frequently, and was able to stay for several days at a time. Tom himself had been surprised how seamlessly David slipped into his life. He was wonderful with Patricia and made sure to call and talk to her at least once a week. She was enamored with him, always asking when he would stop by next, when he would show her the next wacky science experiment he’d cooked up.
And Tom, for the first time in a long time, found himself happy. Things didn’t fix themselves overnight– he struggled with bouts of depression and was still plagued by the implanted memories from the alien. But David was always there with a soothing word or touch, a ridiculous joke, or just a shoulder to lean on. Coupled with Tom’s continued therapy sessions with Ann and a new medication regimen, it seemed the low days were gradually decreasing. The seedling of hope had truly grown into a healthy rooted plant, vulnerable buds beginning to sprout amongst leaves, a tentative and enticing glimpse of the future.
A finger poked his side, and Tom blinked the room back into focus. Beside him, David was peering at him, head tilted in curiosity. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours, hm?”
It was a familiar question, one that brought a ghost of a smile to Tom’s lips. He nestled further into the crook of David’s neck, muttering, “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” David hesitated, reaching down to lace their fingers together. “Is it… being back here? Seemed like you had a, um– like something happened earlier today.”
Tom winced. He had been hoping the flashback hadn’t been obvious.
“It was only because I couldn’t stop looking your way,” David added, reading his mind, and also implicitly confirming that David’s eyes had been wandering just as much as his. “No one else seemed to notice. But… something did happen then?”
Tom shifted onto his side, curling his body into the warm planes of David’s. “It was nothing, really”, he mumbled against Davd’s chest.
“Tom.” David set aside the sketch and gently pried Tom’s head back so he could examine him up close, as if to seek out the veracity of his words. “Was it really nothing?”
Regardless of the recent improvements to his mental health, it was still difficult to truly acknowledge and verbalize the ramifications of the mental assault he’d suffered two years prior. Since the passing of his late wife, he had gradually become accustomed to toughing things out on his own. Now, it was a struggle to truly let others in and share his burdens, all the unsavory bits of his life that he had hitherto been trying to suppress. It was something he had never really excelled at, even with Marilyn, and the demands of his position after the invasion had only reinforced the behavior. With time and encouragement and support, it was becoming easier now, but it still didn’t come naturally. However, if there was anyone who was sure to listen without judgment, it was David.
“I… had a flashback.”
“Bad?”
Tom shook his head. At David’s skeptical arch of an eyebrow, he elaborated. “Just– jarring, really. It’s hard being here, I can feel-”
He cut himself off. He didn’t like to speak of his connection to the alien in the vault, and just the thought of its presence in Area 51 had him tensing up again. At least here, in the new residential building, they were nearly a quarter mile from the main complex. The physical distance gave him a healthy buffer from the effects of the alien, real or imagined.
“I know, darling.” David whispered and stroked the back of his hand gently down the side of Tom’s face. Whether or not Tom wanted to hash out that part of his life, it had been necessary to do so. The disturbing memories and visions from the alien continued to haunt his days and, unfortunately, nights. It wasn’t something that could just be ignored or swept under the rug– not that David would let him anyway. After that night four months ago, when they had both admitted their feelings for each other, it had become obvious that the stakes were high, possibly higher than either of them could really comprehend. So, bit by bit, Tom had begun to share the experiences with David, explaining what happened when a phrase or word triggered some hitherto unknown implanted memory, or revealing the painful nightmares that chased sleep away. As difficult as it was, he was surprised to find it was also somewhat cathartic. Being the sole victim of the alien was a heavy burden to bear by himself, and just knowing someone else was aware of and understood his struggles lessened the weight.
“I’m sorry you had to come.”
Tom mentally shook himself. This visit was about discussing the latest Philately results– his personal problems shouldn’t be interfering with his professional life. “It’s alright, this is important.”
“It’s okay if it’s not alright, you know. If you’re not.”
It was a familiar refrain: “It’s okay to not be okay.”
“I’m okay.” Tom reassured, leaning into David’s palm and covering it with one of his own. “It just took me by surprise. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time I was here.”
David flattened his lips, no doubt alarmed by the admission, Tom realized with an internal wince. He hurried to change the subject.
“Pattie insisted I bring her back ‘a souvenir’. Think we can hit up the gift shop tomorrow?”
“You’re very good at changing the subject, you know that?” David tried to keep a stern face, but a reluctant smile crept onto his face. “But wouldn’t that be something? A gift shop at the top-secret alien research facility…”
“Well, it’s not so secret anymore.”
“Details.” David waved him off with a distracted flap of his hand, directing his attention back to the sketch lying on the mattress. His fingers skimmed over it, hovering just above the surface. Dark, contemplative eyes lingered on the delicate lines. It seemed as if he had something to say but a minute passed and still the room remained silent.
“You’re really something, you know?” David finally uttered softly before turning to fix Tom with an intense gaze, lips pulled up into a content smile. Before Tom could formulate a response, David leaned over and cradled his face between his hands, gently guiding him forward into another kiss. A warm tongue slipped between Tom’s lips, who couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh in return, opening his mouth for easier access. Every contact point between them set Tom’s skin ablaze– the glide of their lips, palms pressed firmly against his cheekbones, David’s fingers curling around his skull and burying into the fine hairs on his neck. Four weeks apart was far too long, he decided.
David drew back, lips shiny and eyes sparkling with something like mischief. For his part, Tom felt dazed, brain only just barely catching up before David broke out into a devious grin and lay back, posing rather suggestively.
“Well now that I know you’re a secret artist, why don’t you paint me like one of your French girls.”
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, fully intent on not humoring David, but after just two seconds spluttered out a choked laugh. “I believe the line is ‘Draw me like one of your French girls’.”
“Ah-ha! So you have seen it. I knew it!”
“It was only the biggest movie of the summer-”
“You’re such a romantic, sweetheart.”
*0
Tom simply shook his head, rubbing at his forehead in amusement. Well, two could play at that game… Quite suddenly he pivoted, swinging one leg up to straddle David, knees on either side of his hips. He leaned over David, who merely looked up at him through dark eyelashes, eyebrows raised in intrigued surprise. The man was effortlessly beautiful, Tom marveled, and a burning hot surge of desire tingled down his spine. David’s mouth parted just so, and Tom’s resolve broke down completely– ducking his head down, his lips met David’s firmly, letting some of that simmering passion show. A warm hand curled around his side just as Tom dragged his mouth down to a stubbled neck. He dropped wet kisses along David’s jaw, trailing down to the collarbones that were exposed by his white tank.
Tom pushed the unbuttoned dress shirt off David’s shoulders and the hand around his side unconsciously clenched into a tight grip.
“Is this alright?” Tom rumbled and lifted his head to meet David’s eyes, thumbs stroking over the bare skin of his shoulders.
“God, yes.” David breathed, dark eyes flicking towards his and Tom could swear he saw the same raw desire reflected back at him.
Without delay, he tugged at the button-up, and David pushed himself up on his elbows so it could be removed completely. He snaked his fingers under the tank top, palms pressing into the hot skin of David’s stomach that twitched with a sharp inhale. Slowly he curled his fingers around the hem of the tank and dragged it upwards. David eagerly lifted his arms and soon the article was divested.
Tom paused for a moment, slowly skimming his fingers up from the top of David’s pants to the hair on his chest. How did he ever get so lucky, he wondered, as he thumbed over a brown nipple. David groaned, and began to paw distractedly at Tom’s own shirt. He chuckled, watching in amusement as David clumsily tried, and mostly failed, to unbutton the beige button-up.
“Need some help?” He teased, popping the remaining buttons and shrugging off the dress shirt.
“Less talk, more undressing.”
He huffed a quiet laugh as David carelessly tossed aside the button-up before making quick work of his undershirt as well. Splaying one large hand in the middle of Tom’s back, David dragged him down until their bare torsos made contact. Tom groaned, collapsing beside David and pulling him into a searing kiss. It was intoxicating, the simple yet maddening sensation of skin on skin. He stroked up David’s back and felt a resulting shiver. David broke away for a moment, panting into his neck. Curious hands wandered down to the belt at his hips, pausing in question.
“Everything still good?” David fingered at the belt buckle. “This okay?”
Tom felt like the erection straining at his slacks should have been answer enough, but he did appreciate the explicit confirmation.
“Very much,” he croaked, grasping a hand around the back of David’s neck and then leaning in to mouth at his adam’s apple. They had yet to be intimate, not only because time was scarce for the two of them, but also because Tom had– somewhat embarrassingly– admitted to David that he wanted to take things slow between them. This was his first relationship after Marilyn, and if navigating that minefield hadn’t been enough, he had also been unpracticed at the whole dating thing for over a decade. David had, of course, been completely understanding, and their encounters until now had been strictly PG (well, maybe PG-13). But, tonight, well– something just felt right and Tom realized that, if David would have him, he wanted to know every part of him. And it certainly seemed as if David returned the sentiment.
There was a metallic click before David unfastened the belt buckle and tugged his pants down to his thighs where Tom kicked them the rest of the way off. Almost immediately, David cupped his palm over the tent in Tom’s briefs. Even that little bit of contact was infuriatingly wonderful, snatching a strangled groan from his lungs before he belatedly snapped his mouth shut.
“Oh no, none of that,” breathed David, inches from his own face. “I wanna hear it all.”
“David…” Tom moaned as the man ghosted his fingertips over bare thighs. “This isn’t very even.”
“It isn’t?” David teased, even as he began to kiss his way down Tom’s heaving chest. A pink tongue darted out from between those tantalizing lips before exploring his nipples. Tom arched into the touch, breathless, but when David scraped blunt teeth over the nub he moaned loudly, the sound so wanton and unexpected that it startled even him.
David grinned quite smugly, victorious, and repeated the action. Tom threw his head back, hair fanning on the pillow. “David–” he repeated, grasping at the man’s back, not sure if he wanted him to keep going or to stop and focus his attention elsewhere. He was turning to putty in David’s hands and had to level the playing field just a bit. With fumbling hands, he reached for David’s own belt, and when he couldn’t get it quite undone, David took mercy on him with nary but a chuckle.
They were soon both down to their undergarments and glancing down, he saw that David was just as hard. Tentatively, he brushed his fingers against the bulge in David’s boxers and watched in awe as the man blew out a slow and ragged breath. He made to remove the boxers, but first locked eyes with David before asking one last time, “May I?”
“Please,” David begged, and a thrill of anticipation spread through Tom’s body. Without further hesitation, he slid the boxers off and David’s cock bounced up a bit as it was released from the confining material. Jesus christ. It had been a long time since Tom had been intimate with another man, back before he and Marilyn dated– a good dozen or so years in the past. There was a certain element of excitement now, after the long gap in time, and he was practically salivating as he took in the glorious sight of David’s naked form.
“God, look at you… You’re beautiful.” He breathed, one hand running delicately up along the inside of David’s thigh before ghosting over his straining erection. David inhaled sharply. It was a very nice cock, if Tom was being honest, longer than his own but not quite as wide, a dusky brown color and surrounded by neatly trimmed curls.
He rose up on his knees and straddled David’s thighs before pausing for a moment, considering his next words. He wasn’t sure how exactly to ask what he needed to, so he may as well be blunt. “Have you um, been tested recently?”
David nodded. “Clean bill of health here. You?”
“Same.” That necessary business out of the way, he began to skim his fingers along David’s stomach, watching as goosebumps trailed in their wake.
“Have you, uh, ever been with a man?” David choked out, barely coherent as Tom wrapped an experimental hand around his cock. He rubbed a thumb over the slit and the slickness there.
“Not for quite a few years, but yes. You?”
“Y-yes. Well, you know what they say–” David’s words evaporated away into a sharp gasp.
Tom smiled smugly, slowly stroking a firm grip up David’s cock. He leaned over and dropped a wet kiss to David’s chest. “Yes? Something got you distracted?”
David huffed a strained laugh. “It’s-it’s just like riding a bike.”
“Hm. Like riding something, maybe...”
“My god, who are you, and what have you done with– augh– the Tom I know?”
Tom chuckled, and proceeded to mouth at David’s nipple, much to the man’s pleasure. He wasn’t sure if David had any, er, well– supplies– handy, so in the absence he decided to use what he already had on hand. Literally. Withdrawing his right hand, he brought it up to his mouth and, making sure to keep direct eye contact, slowly licked along his palm. Once more, for good measure.
“Goddamn,” David groaned, voice low and husky. “Tom, do you know just how– fucking hot you are?”
Tom somehow doubted that, but felt it wasn’t quite the time or place to argue. Instead, he used his spit-slick hand to stroke David, who threw his head back in breathless pleasure. Touching another man like this was a strange yet also familiar sensation. David’s length and curvature were different from his own, and while it was a little awkward pleasuring someone else from this side, the concept was the same as when he touched himself. Gradually, he varied his grip and direction, peering at David’s face to gauge his reaction.
“Fuck, just like that–” David stuttered out around a low moan. At the same time, he reached out to wrap loose fingers in Tom’s hair and pull him into a searing kiss. The hand in his hair tightened a bit and Tom gasped into the kiss, surprised to find that the resulting sting at the roots of his scalp wasn’t unwelcome.
“You like that?” David pulled back, gazing up in something like surprised awe. “This?” He twisted his grip, tugging at the fine strands with a bit more force and Tom moaned, the sound breathy and high-pitched and honestly quite embarrassing. The pressure caused his brain to short-circuit for a moment, his hand on David’s dick stuttering to a halt.
David released his hold. “God, Tom, that is hot.”
And David was right in more ways than one: Tom’s whole body felt on fire, pulsating with need and desire just from watching David in the throes of his own pleasure. Beneath him, David closed his eyes, lips parting to paint an utterly tantalizing picture. With a renewed effort, Tom focused back on the task at hand. David’s cock was heavy and deliciously hot in his hand. Just when he was really getting the hang of how David liked to be jerked off, the man’s eyes shot open.
“Nngh, Tom– I’m going to–”
With his free hand, Tom cupped David’s balls and massaged them. David’s face contorted, almost as if in pain, but then it slackened as he threw his head back into the pillow with a soft whush. David’s body tensed, stomach spasming as thick white cum spurt forth and coated Tom’s hand. Tom stroked once, twice more, milking the last few drops from David’s now softening cock.
“Holy fuck,” David uttered, gasping for breath, and slowly the tension seeped from his body as he sunk into the mattress. He lay there for several seconds, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling with an unblinking gaze. “Wow, sorry, that was a little fast.”
“Sorry? I’m taking it as a compliment.” Tom cocked a cheeky grin and leaned over towards the nightstand to grab a tissue and wipe his hand.
David chuckled under his breath and finally pried his eyes from the ceiling to meet Tom’s gaze. “Come here, you.” Without waiting for a response, he bodily hauled Tom up until they were level, then kissed him, deep and slow, licking into his mouth with reverence before eventually pulling back. “You’re incredible.”
Tom allowed a crooked smile before returning the kiss with fervor, more aroused than ever after watching David come. He was so hard it was almost painful, and knew that it would likewise take very little for him to finish at this point.
“Need some help with that?” David broke off and palmed at Tom’s aching erection, who reflexively pushed into the touch.
“C’mon, get those things off,” David tugged at his briefs and between the two of them the last garment that separated their naked bodies was finally disposed of.
David slowly pushed him onto his back and, straddling his hips, draped his body over Tom’s. It was almost overwhelming– David’s soft cock rubbing against his achingly hard one, the smooth skin of thighs pressed into his, wiry chest hair scratching at his torso. Tom closed his eyes, lips agape as he sucked in a shallow breath. David’s weight felt like a second skin, a heavy blanket that he wanted to wrap himself up in and just stay there.
“I’d like to take my time with you…” David pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his cheek. He moved down, peppering his hot, wet mouth along the column of Tom’s neck, onto his sternum, and finally against a hardening nipple. “But I’ll go easy on you. This time.”
Tom didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he liked the promise of it.
“God, you’re amazing.” David drew back a bit, as if to get a better look at him, eyes roving over his form while Tom fought the urge to squirm under the intense gaze. He wasn’t exactly young anymore– nine years David’s senior– and he had only just regained the weight he lost during the worst bouts of his depression the last two years. He wasn’t typically self-conscious about his appearance, but compared to David who somehow managed to look like a Greek god–
“Uh-uh, I see that hamster wheel spinning.” David soothed a gentle hand across Tom’s cheek. He smiled, and the sheer adoration behind it stole any protesting words from Tom’s lungs. “You’re beautiful, my dear, and nothing could make me think otherwise.”
His sincerity was so palpable that Tom couldn’t help but take David’s words to heart, and a tension he hadn’t been aware of began to uncoil. Apparently one was never too old to feel at least a little bit self-conscious the first time sleeping with a new partner.
With little warning, David wrapped one large hand around Tom’s cock and began to stroke. He squeezed just a bit, exerting enough pressure to cause Tom to moan rather filthily for a moment, before he remembered where he was, who he was, and pressed the back of his hand against his mouth.
“What did I say about that?” David gingerly pried his hand away, smirking, “Come on, let’s give those secret service agents of yours a show, shall we?”
Tom shook his head with a fond smile. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Ah, but you know you love it.”
And, well– he wasn’t wrong.
“Let me know if I’m way off base here, okay?…” David began, and before Tom could question what he meant, David grabbed a hold of Tom’s other wrist and drew both hands up onto the pillow.
“Is this alright?” He maintained unblinking eye contact, gaze flicking over Tom’s with an uncharacteristic sharpness. Tom felt totally exposed, his whole body stretched across the bed as if he was on display for David’s personal pleasure. And he found he liked it.
He nodded.
“Need to hear you say it, alright?”
“Yes, David, yes– I’m good.” Answered Tom, surprised at how needy and breathless his voice was even to his ears. He parted his legs further, pressing upward so David could feel his straining erection. David bit his lip in a smirk, giving him what he so desperately wanted by grinding his thigh onto Tom’s cock. At the same time, David’s grip on his wrists tightened before pushing them into the pillow with just a bit more force. The combination of sensations– the firm pressure of his wrists being pressed into the pillow coupled with the deliciously maddening friction against his cock– it was enough for him to fulfill David’s previous request by groaning low and loud and unabashedly.
David uttered a strained curse under his breath, before nosing at Tom’s hairline. “What would you do if I tied you up, hm?” he whispered, low and sultry, into Tom’s ear. Tom simply let out a breathy whine at the idea. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” he breathed, just the thought causing his cock to pulse sharply with arousal.
“Oh my,” David pulled back and grinned, and the sight distinctly reminded Tom of the cat that got the cream. “I’m going to have fun with you.”
Again, Tom wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but something about David’s devilish smirk told him he was definitely going to like it.
Gently, David released his grip and began kissing his way down Tom’s body. Despite being freed, Tom simply curled his fingers into the plush material of the pillow. Further and further south David went, until he dropped a light kiss to Tom’s right hip bone, who couldn’t help a slight twitch– apparently that was a ticklish spot. David was so close, just a bit to the left… Tom was finding it hard to concentrate on anything but the man’s feather-light touch as he moved closer and closer towards his now painfully hard cock.
“This what you want?” David asked cheekily, and pressed open lips against the base of his cock.
Tom’s whole body shuddered. “Yes, yes, please David,” He was aware he was practically begging, but was far past the point of being self-conscious. Every muscle in his body felt tight, coiled like a spring, practically brimming with anticipation.
“Well, since you asked so nicely…”
David’s tongue ran slowly up from base to tip before he closed his mouth around Tom’s cock, and Tom was certain he was going to die right then and there. Cause of death– one David Levinson. His hips bucked for a moment, but even in the throes of pleasure he was careful not to jerk up into David’s mouth. David removed his glasses and haphazardly tossed them aside before taking more of his cock in.
“David–” Tom groaned, and barely recognized the low, throaty rumble of his voice. David bobbed his head up and down, the sight of his lips stretched around his cock utterly obscene and arousing. His dark, wavy locks fell down onto his forehead in a messy sprawl, and Tom couldn’t help but reach a hand down to push them back. He wasn’t sure what it was– the endorphins or the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in so long, or maybe it was just that his brain picked the most inconvenient time to spring the thought on him, but–
He thought, I love this man.
Just as suddenly as the idea occurred to him, he forcefully tabled it. There would be a time for thoughts of that nature soon. In just a few minutes, if David kept going at his current pace.
Oblivious to his internal monologue, David bent his head further and further– until Tom could feel the tip of his cock hit the back of David’s throat. The only sounds in the room were his own harsh gasps and the lewd wet sounds of David sucking his cock like his life depended on it. Goddamn, the man had no shame– not that Tom minded the current outlet of his shameless behavior. But still, there actually were secret service agents posted somewhere outside David’s quarters. Tom could only hope that the few sets of doors separating them would be enough to muffle their noise.
David hollowed his cheeks, prompting a strangled curse from Tom’s throat, and all thoughts of trying to stay quiet immediately left his brain. Secret service agents? What were those again?
David’s tongue was doing something wicked that was quickly sending him to the limits of his self-control. Tom sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, hands grasping handfuls of the sheets underneath. The soft, velvet-smooth insides of David’s mouth were exerting just the right amount of pressure to drive him crazy.
“David… I’m close.” He warned, but David merely hummed, the vibrations only adding to the already overwhelming sensations. He seemed to instead take the warning as encouragement, easing up enough to wrap one hand around the base of Tom’s cock while deftly handling the rest with that talented mouth. There was a tightness building deep in Tom’s groin, a sign that he wouldn’t last much longer at this rate. David’s grip tightened and twisted, he sucked hard at the swollen head of his cock and then–
Tom’s hips stuttered just a bit, the tension releasing in a burst of ecstasy so great he could do nothing more than dig the crown of his head into the pillow with a broken-off cry. David continued to suck, swallowing down his cum with a bob of his adam’s apple. Jesus fucking christ. His cause of death would definitely be David Levinson. He could see it now: Here lies Thomas J. Whitmore, victim of the world’s most devastating blowjob.
He gasped for breath, hair sticking to his forehead in a cooling sheen of sweat. David pulled off and, god help him, the bastard wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking as smug as could be. Well, Tom supposed that was deserved. David knelt over him, catching his own breath. Tom, meanwhile, was sure he was just about to sink down through the mattress and into the floorboards. It was incredible how draining a truly good orgasm could be.
“Well, you look satisfied,” David murmured, voice hoarse and rough around the edges. Tom could only huff a weak laugh and shake his head fondly. David collapsed beside Tom before pulling him in for a deep and passionate kiss. Tom licked lazily into his mouth, finding the faint taste of his own cum surprisingly arousing. David pulled back, nipping at Tom’s lower lip. He moved only a few inches away, eyes scanning over Tom’s face, as if searching for something.
He wasn’t sure what he looked like at present, but if Tom appeared half as blissed out as he felt, well, David might get an ego. David opened his mouth, but it stayed that way for several seconds, bordering on the comical. Eventually, he closed it, instead fixing Tom with a warm smile. Gently, he stroked an index finger along Tom’s cheek.
Tom returned the smile, something in his chest swelling at the obvious affection he saw in David’s eyes. He rotated onto his side, facing David, and curled into the crevices of David’s body, who responded by fumbling to draw the sheet over them before bundling Tom up into his arms. Tom leaned into the embrace, feeling boneless and sated and cared for in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long while. Endorphins and adrenaline began to seep away, leaving him with a warm, glowing feeling that spread from his chest towards his limbs.
*1
His thoughts drifted away, lulled into a blissful nothingness by the gentle, soothing repetition of David fingers skimming up and down his back. For the first time in recent memory, it felt as if his mind had truly been quieted. He was content to simply lay in the arms of his partner, held securely, as if he was something precious. The caring gesture, so simple in its nature but so deeply moving, gnawed away at something deep in him, a layer of hardened calcification that had grown around his heart when Marilyn died.
He was drawn back to that word again. Love.
The notion had been slowly creeping on him and before he knew it, he found his heart opening up to the idea of it. Love, in the time of the world’s reconstruction, in the aftermath of such suffering, in the midst of an uncertain future.
It had been popping into his head more and more often, but the sudden clarity with which it had come to him just a few minutes ago had been startling. It fit like a glove, and even spoken into existence within his own mind– it felt right.
So then why did the word send both a thrill and a creeping dread up his spine?
That dichotomy– hope shadowed by anxiety– was a common recurrence when he reflected on he and David’s burgeoning relationship. Where were they headed? This was obviously more than a fling, especially considering it took a whole four months before they had sex tonight. And while just the thought of having a life partner once again seemed to fill an aching cavity in Tom’s heart, it also caused his gut to clench with unease.
Not that long ago, he would have simply ignored the heavy, weighty pit that this line of thinking evoked, but through his sessions with Ann he was starting to realize that peering down into the abyss and trying to analyze those uncomfortable feelings was actually better in the long run, no matter how uncomfortable it was in the moment. So again: why did the thought of his and David’s relationship cause simultaneous butterflies and dread?
He dug down into the pit, allowing himself to adjust to the darkness, to grapple with his most private thoughts and fears.
Guilt.
Fear.
There was a lot to unpack. Was their relationship an insult to Marilyn’s memory? The tendrils of something intense and all-encompassing were beginning to weave around his heart– he was falling in love with David. What did that mean? Was he moving on too fast? It was one thing to enter into a new relationship, but to love someone– did that mean he was truly moving on? Was there a way to keep Marilyn’s memory in his heart without letting it hold him back? And what if he did let David in, completely and utterly? He hadn’t done that in a decade, had almost forgotten how vulnerable it was to actually love someone. Beautiful, yes. But it also opened you up to potential rejection. To pain. To loss.
He let himself linger in that place, in the sea of disquiet lapping at the edges of that dark abyss. It was more than just the fear of truly letting go of Marilyn. Loving someone meant attaching yourself to them, something that, to some degree, meant ceding power to that person, to the unknown. What if– The thought was almost too much to bear. He had already lost one love of his life, he couldn’t bear to suffer the same again. Beneath everything, he was afraid. What if he opened his heart and–
Were these fears just a healthy dose of reality, or were they holding him back? Ann had once pointed out that it seemed he kept his closest friends at arm’s length, perhaps a self-preservation technique. Would he allow the fear of loss to sabotage his relationship with David?
“Hey,” David whispered, and Tom blinked in surprise. “Everything alright? You’ve got that face you make when you’re overthinking something.”
“I do not,” Tom retorted automatically.
“See, right there?” David poked him between his eyebrows, where his face had scrunched up into an unconscious frown.
Maybe David was right, maybe he was overthinking things. These feelings– they were only natural after everything he had been through. But that didn’t mean he had to let them run rampant and hold his happiness hostage. With considerable effort, he attempted what Ann had suggested: to sit with the unpleasant emotions for a minute, acknowledge their existence and their validity, then purposefully consider the other side of the situation.
For months, he had been fighting that knee-jerk reaction that he was doing some sort of disservice to Marilyn by “moving on” so quickly– but it had been two years since her death, and if their positions had been reversed, he knew he certainly wouldn’t want her to hold back if she met someone that made her truly happy. And David did– make him truly happy, that was. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was just wholesale forgetting her presence in his life, and the life they had made together. It was the little things– a phrase that reminded him of a silly inside joke they shared, the chocolate chip cookie recipe they had perfected together over years of trial and error, the traditions she brought into their family and he still continued to honor. Besides, their daughter was a daily reminder of the woman he had vowed to share his life with. He was ashamed to admit it, but during the months after the invasion, each moment around Patricia had been a tangible and painful reminder of all he had lost. But time had fortunately closed that wound. He now saw all the little pieces of Marilyn in Patricia and they filled him with a bittersweet remembered fondness and love. Perhaps someday even that bittersweet ache would fade away.
As for the vulnerability of opening up his heart once more– well, it had already been four months and even though that early honeymoon phase had faded into the background, he still found himself utterly smitten with David. And he wasn’t ignorant enough to see the reciprocation of those feelings. David jumped at any opportunity to visit St. Louis. He happily– with not a trace of resentment or obligation– took to Patricia and the two had in fact grown thick as thieves. He fit into Tom’s little family seamlessly, he understood that Tom’s first obligations had to be to his daughter and to his job, he called Tom whenever they both had free evenings. They even brokered a peace, agreeing to only get pineapple on half the pizza. David’s commitment to the relationship was not in question. Of course, that was no guarantee for the future, but from the evidence he had gathered thus far, it was obvious that David was just as serious about making things work as he was. He couldn’t let his life be ruled by the fear of what-if’s, he couldn’t pull away from the people closest to him and complete the self-fulfilling prophecy of his loved ones abandoning him. Putting that trust in those closest to him was difficult, but if he wanted to ever make good on all this work he was putting in– in therapy, in life, in rebuilding the country and the world and himself– he had to start somewhere.
“Was it… are you… okay with what just happened?” David asked, voice barely audible, and even though it was obvious he was trying to keep a neutral face, there was a good deal of apprehension seeping through.
Tom realized with a jolt just how his faraway rumination might appear to David– aloof and perhaps a bit regretful.
“Yes, yes, I am…” He scrambled for an adequate metaphor– “A thousand percent okay with what just happened.”
“That seems like overkill.” David remarked playfully, and thankfully the concern faded away into amusement.
Tom smiled softly. “Sorry, I was just… thinking… trying to sort through things.” It was one thing to try and work through his emotions privately, internally, but to share them outwardly, be totally open and honest about his most intimate thoughts? Well, that was more of a challenge. While in office, it had become natural– and to some extent, expected– to put forward the perfectly presentable mask of President Whitmore. Even with Marilyn, it had been draining to slip in and out of that role. But after the invasion, it seemed like President Whitmore had been needed day and night, and the he couldn’t afford to be anything but the perfect leader. Everyone in the nation, perhaps the world, had been looking to him. The pressure to present the perfect public image– strong yet empathetic, caring yet calculating– had taken a toll. Besides with his daughter, he had slipped into the bad habit of always being “on”, so to speak, and trying to now relearn that it was alright to be emotionally vulnerable was easier said than done. But he had to try. And David made him want to try.
“About what this means for me after- after Marilyn. What this means for… us.”
David’s gaze was keen and unblinking as he nodded thoughtfully.
“But–” Tom picked up the hand that had previously poked him in the face, lacing their fingers together. “Tonight was… good,” he chuckled a bit. “Better than good.”
He stared down at their intertwined fingers, at the differences in their skin tones. “It… made me think about how much you mean to me. Which– honestly, kind of scares me a bit. But I…” He trailed off, struggling to find the right way to express the array of emotions that he had confronted at the bottom of that abyss. “After Marilyn, I think things shifted towards survival mode. And I’m trying to– to get out of that mindset, but it’s hard.”
David rubbed a thumb over his and patiently waited, sensing there was more on his mind. Tom, meanwhile, sucked in a slow breath through his nose and chanced a glance at David’s expression. What he found struck him to his core– David, with soft eyes and an encouraging smile, his whole demeanor one of complete and unconditional support. It gave him the courage to put words to some of the more unwieldy thoughts.
“I’m okay, really. I think I’m– still trying to really internalize that it’s alright to do this. To be happy with– someone else.”
“I get that. Sometimes these things just… hit you.” With his free hand, David tucked a loose strand of hair behind Tom’s ear and smiled, eyes crinkling just a bit. “Thanks for unspooling that big brain a bit for me.” I know it’s hard was left unspoken.
David chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “Honestly, I’ve been having similar thoughts myself.”
Tom hadn’t even considered David’s side of things, and felt a twinge of guilt for only focusing on himself. David had recently been through a whirlwind of a relationship with Connie and, despite them splitting up last year, he was sure it took time to truly come to peace with something like that. It was easy to fall into a new relationship, but after the dust settled– well, all those suppressed feelings found a way of floating back up to the surface.
“I don’t think I’ll ever really be able to… know what you’re feeling… but, I at least have an inkling.” David combed long fingers slowly through his hair, and Tom couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “And I do know that you… you make me so happy, Tom.”
Tom’s gaze darted across David’s face, finding it completely sincere. His heart swelled with– there it was again– love.
He leaned in, resting his forehead against David’s and letting his eyes drift shut. “You make me so happy too.” Gingerly, he pressed a kiss to David’s lips, slow and unrushed and full of the kind of quiet passion that filled his heart to the brim. When they pulled apart, Tom reached out to flick off the lamp. David gathered Tom into his arms once more, sighing in contentment. The room was dark, lit only by the light from the adjoining room.
Things weren’t automatically fixed, but Tom’s thoughts had slowed to a sluggish pace, relegated to the back of his mind. He would no doubt bring up these lingering doubts and anxieties in his next session with Ann. With her help, it was getting easier and easier to voice these thoughts to David, as he had tonight.
His thoughts drifted away, each one a fine strand that eventually tapered down into nothingness. Beside him, David’s breaths became deeper. A glance at the clock revealed it was just before 9pm and, despite the time difference and post-coital relaxation, Tom found himself staring up at the shadowed ceiling. Carefully, he extracted himself from David’s grip, holding his breath to avoid waking the other man up. When David merely scrunched up his nose and curled further into himself, Tom leaned over and blindly fumbled for the folder that had been set aside on the nightstand. He might as well keep himself entertained if he couldn’t sleep.
It wasn’t the first time they had fallen asleep together, but it was the first time he awoke naked after having done so. Tom blinked the fuzziness away, the initial confusion over where he was slowly fading away into realization. David slept peacefully just to his left, mouth slightly agape. Tom knew he was truly smitten when his first thought was how adorable David looked even while sleeping. He really had it bad.
It was early, and today’s briefings didn’t begin until 9. But old habits died hard, and years of early mornings had him rising like clockwork. He crept out of bed and began to prepare for the day. Dressed in a houserobe and with a fresh mug of coffee in hand, he returned to the bedroom and attempted to sneak back into bed without waking David. Despite his best efforts, the mild jostling of the mattress seemed to rouse him.
He felt guilty– honestly– that he’d accidentally woken David, but also, he couldn’t deny how cute the man was. His whole body seemed to curl into itself before stretching out to its limits. It reminded him of a cat he and Marilyn had owned, before moving into the White House. David slowly blinked awake, and just as he was reaching out to fumble for his glasses, Tom handed them over.
“Thanks.” David slurred, his voice low and rumbling, before practically shoving said glasses onto his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Apologized Tom, leaning over for a kiss. David gladly acquiesced.
“I’ll forgive you, if you’ve made coffee,” he mumbled, but Tom could feel him smile into the kiss.
“Who do you think I am?” Tom grinned, and goddamn, if this man didn’t set his heart ablaze.
David rumbled a light chuckle before reluctantly throwing back the covers. Tom took a sip of his own coffee, watching appreciatively as David stumbled towards the restroom. The man was unfairly attractive without even trying.
Tom averted his gaze back to the newspaper he’d grabbed from outside the door to David’s quarters, trying desperately not to think about whether or not the secret service agents had gotten a show last night. He subtly cleared his throat and tightened the knot around his house robe. Try as he might, he stared unseeing at the words on the newspaper, thoughts instead dwelling on the sheer domesticity of the morning.
Five minutes later, David returned, mug of steaming coffee in hand and ruffled hair a bit more tamed. Even after having sex the night before, Tom could still feel a light burn in his cheeks as he took in David’s naked form. There was a stark difference between the rush of arousal in the moment and the sleepy, relaxed atmosphere of the morning after.
David rounded the bed to stand beside Tom, leaning down to press a firm and brief kiss to his lips. “Good morning,” he breathed and Tom couldn’t help the goofy grin that spread across his face.
“Good morning to you too,” He hooked a hand around David’s neck and guided him back down for another kiss, this one deeper.
David pulled back with a matching grin. “How long have you been up?”
“Not long.”
David was just turning away, presumably to return to his side of the bed, when he froze. Slowly, very slowly, he set down his mug and reached for the folder on the nightstand. Tom suppressed a smirk, knowing exactly what it was that had stopped David in his tracks.
“Jesus.” David’s voice was strangled, a bit on the high-pitched side. He turned back around, eyes wide and, for the first time Tom could recall, his cheeks were flushed deep red. Tom felt inordinately proud for making the man with no shame blush.
“When did you- ah–” David cleared his throat once, twice, but still couldn’t seem to find the words. Instead he simply gestured loosely at the paper in his hand.
“I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“Well,” David set the paper aside, and from his reclining position in bed, Tom could just barely make out the dark lines of the sketch. David’s eyes flicked back to his, an excited sort of hunger glimmering behind his glasses. “I think you missed a mole right here on my hip.” He pointed to his left hip bone and, well– he was right.
“Is that so?” Tom stroked his chin in exaggerated thought. Without warning, David plucked the mug of coffee from his hand and set it beside his own. He climbed onto the bed, straddling Tom’s thighs.
“Maybe you need to take a closer look.” David curled his fingers around the top of the headboard, lowering his head to mouth at Tom’s neck. And Tom– he was but a weak man who was being played like a fiddle.
“You know… to make sure you’ve got the angles right,” David continued, tongue darting out to lick at Tom’s collarbone. Tom took in a shuddering breath, hands automatically gripping at David’s waist. He wasn’t convinced he’d gotten any angles wrong in his sketch, but he would probably agree to anything right now.
“Well, I’d hate to do your likeness a disservice…” Tom played along.
David unknotted the tie at Tom’s waist and pushed aside the robe, a wicked grin spreading across his face.