May 02 2012, 11:47 PM

Digital Getdown

There’s no excuse for this. Gratuitous sexting. I may have made Tom a wee bit more forward/sadistic a little maybe. I don’t know. This is just a thing that happened. Listening to Digital Getdown is not required but perhaps may make this a slightly more hilarious read (yeah, I went there. What’re you gonna do). This piece of crap is also for Lindsey because I said so. As usual, no beta and sorry if there are mistakes.

ALSO!!! To easier tell the difference between who is texting what, Tom’s are always in italics! (AO3 link - ngl better formatting for the actual texts!!)

——

It’s late. That sort of late that could be early if one looked at the clock in a different light. But, when Chris looked at the clock it was late.

At first, he wasn’t sure what jolted him awake, thinking it had just been a crazy dream and his subconscious was more alert than he’d thought—jostling him awake before anything bad happened. But, then his phone buzzed on the nightstand, alerting him that no, his slumber had been interrupted by an outside source.

He knows who it is before he even picks it up. Instinctively. Perhaps even expected it to happen. Mind recalling the look in Tom’s eyes over dinner. Yeah. This was expected alright. He thinks to ignore it, but knows that’s probably the worst thing to do. He could shut the phone off (it’s late, it’s late and his eyes are burning) but, he doesn’t. No. Almost like his body is on autopilot, he reaches over and stares at the screen, eyes blinking rapidly as the light burns his pupils down to tiny pinpricks of black. Two messages.

Chris.
Are you awake?

A sigh and he’s typing blindly, his eyes nearly shut. Chris feels like he barely slept—he doesn’t even have sleep dust gathered in his eyes yet!

No.

The light is snapped off and he’s barely moved his finger away from the button before the phone vibrates again.

I can’t sleep.

I can. Goodnight, Tom.

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April 22 2012, 02:21 PM

Jam

Hhhh okay. First time writing rpf but I couldn’t help it. Just as a sidenote, this fic was written before all the Hiddlesworth angst that hit the internet after the London premiere but I lost steam in finishing it up. Anyway I guess just keep that in mind? Otherwise just enjoy mindless blowjobs??? ( AO3 link )

—-

The soft notes of the music float through the rooms. A lilting female voice carries the words of heroes and Chris couldn’t stop the slight smile that found its way to his lips. Over the melody, he could hear tins opening, dishes clinking and the kettle beginning to warm over the stove. Sunlight streamed in through the crack in the curtains and is getting dangerously close to streaking across his eyes. He could roll over, but that required more effort than he was willing to make at the moment. Instead, he presses his face into the pillow, stray golden strands of hair slide down to curtain over his face almost as if to help hide the smile that grows bigger.

They’re in London today. A block of rooms was reserved for the cast at a nearby hotel, but after parting ways with everyone after dinner the night before, Tom had taken Chris back to his place. Home. They didn’t have a lot of time to spare today and had to be down at Westfield early afternoon, so they made the most of their time. Will continue to make the most of it until they have to part ways. His eyes squint open to stare at the clock—no point in wasting even more time lazing around in bed. His phone buzzes against the wood of the nightstand, but goes ignored. He already knows it is littered with texts asking where he was last night and where he is now.

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