Let me apologize to begin with / Let me apologize for what I'm about to say. Who: Tommy and Bret. What: Revelations. Where: Bret's apartment. When: Monday evening. Warnings: Language, drug references, shameless use of minor injury as a plot device, possible sexuality.
The second week of classes had officially started and Tommy couldn't have been in a happier mood. Between classes, the SSDP, Empire State NORML, and the occasional Spanish and guitar lessons from either Cam or his dad, he was horrendously busy, but he was starting to find out that he thrived under that kind of pressure. A kind of energy thrummed under his skin, he was always thinking about at least three things at once, was constantly updating his iPhone with new tasks, assignments, and volunteer opportunities. And, thus, it was a very energetic and beaming godling who showed up at Bret's apartment after his Monday classes had ended. He even looked the part of a university student, from the political t-shirt (NORML, of course), to the brand new buttons displayed proudly on his messenger bag and the tiniest bit of scruff on his cheeks because he'd been too excited to shave that morning. And he only stopped chattering about everything - I have a fifteen page essay for Public Law due in October but I'm starting it now, the SSDP meetings are so fun and everyone is so smart, I'm canvassing for NORML next weekend, and did I tell you that Dad taught me a new chord last night? - when he was led into Bret's bedroom and then, the steady stream of babble turned to a steady stream of moans and gasps and pleas for more, when his mouth wasn't full, at least. And he stopped thinking so much too, especially when Bret's fingers slid down below the small of his back. Eventually, though, they did have to emerge from the bedroom; Tommy's stomach had rumbled while they were cuddling under the blankets and, reluctantly, he'd pulled on jeans and followed Bret out into the kitchen.
Pushing his hair back from his face and inwardly musing that it'd be long enough for a short, loose ponytail eventually, Tommy bent to rummage in his bag for his iPhone, his thumbs moving over the screen as he replied to texts from his dad, Cam, and Matt, before letting it drop back into the front pocket and stretching lazily. There was something about being able to have this time with Bret that just calmed Tommy down; he loved being able to handle being so busy, loved that antsy little rush that came as he ran around multi-tasking, but there was also something special about Bret being able to shut that part of him off and get him to concentrate solely on skin and lips... and now food. "You know, I can't cook at all, so I'm afraid I won't be much help." Tommy told Bret ruefully; his cooking experience amounted to burning brownies and cookies, and microwaving mini-pizzas when everyone else had eaten without him. "I even burn brownies and then I feel all guilty for wasting the main ingredient." Tommy had probably gone through hundreds of dollars worth of Marijuana's product trying to make special brownies, but he just had his dad take it out of his rather ludicrous allowance.
"But you could teach me!" Tommy said excitedly; he did like acquiring new skills and he liked the thought of him and Bret cooking a meal together, even if Tommy didn't really contribute all that much; it had a domestic feel to it and he would learn not to burn everything eventually. "Or you could just give me something easy to do, like chopping up the vegetables." And then Tommy tilted his head and smiled coyly, well-aware that he was shirtless and still somewhat flushed from their previous activities. "Or I could just stand here and look pretty."