Tommy moves in on a Sunday night. Sam gets home from the bar in the early morning, tired, stinking of beer and smoke. He doesn't mind the smell really, he likes it. He's spent most of his life running and if he manages to make it to his front doorstep after his shift smelling like Merlotte's than he knows it's another day spent alive and well.
Sam grips the door handle. It feels loose, rattling slightly in place like someone twisted it too hard or forced it open. If he wasn't so tired he would have noticed it earlier. Sam pauses. He can smell him, Tommy.
"Could have told me to expect company tonight." Sam says. Tommy startles, sits up. He's on the sofa, his backpack next to him. The television's on some late night infomercial. Its light ebbs and flows, reflects off the opposite wall.
"I didn't think you'd let me come over." Tommy says. He clutches at his bag, like he's expecting Sam to throw him out.
"That's exactly my point."
Sam kicks off his boots by the door. He's not thirsty, but he opens the kitchen fridge and peers inside.
"You want something?" Sam reaches inside for a cold beer.
"No, I just. I'll only stay the night I promise."
Sam turns around, lifts his bottle in the air.
"I mean, are you hungry? Want a beer or something?"
"Oh, yeah. Beer sounds good."
Sam grabs another bottle from the fridge. He knows he'd be better off sending Tommy on his way. The boy's only brought trouble along since Sam first met him. But a part of Sam craves this, having someone around when he gets home, someone to talk to about his day. Someone who understands what it feels like to be different.
"Maxine kick you out?" Sam sits on the other side of Tommy's bag, digs around for the remote control.
"No." Tommy shifts a little in his seat, plays with the strap of his bag.
Sam flips mindlessly through the few public channels that get broadcasted. He doesn't usually watch television unless he's drunk and feeling sorry for himself, doesn't have the time or the interest.
"You just decided to give your big brother a visit?"
"You ain't my brother." Tommy says sullenly.
"Blood says different." Sam counters. It's sort of true, he doesn't feel like Tommy's brother, not in any of the ways that count. He doesn't even know Tommy that way, isn't sure he can trust him. He wouldn't trust himself at that age.
Tommy shrugs, his elbow brushes against Sam's side. Tommy pulls his arm away. They sit in silence for awhile, watch a pastor preach about sins and damnation, against vampires and the supernatural. The picture flickers, sliding in and out of frame. Sam doesn't feel damned, just tired.
"Alright," Sam gives one last pull to his beer and gets up, "sofa's yours for the night but I want you gone in the morning."
Tommy looks relieved. "Okay."
"Don't touch anything." Sam looks back, points his finger Tommy's way. He doesn't have much worth stealing anyways, nothing that Sam would regret getting broken.
"I won't." Tommy promises.
Sam locks the front door, makes sure the kitchen window is shut. He turns down the thermostat until he hears the air conditioning click on. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Tommy moves around the living room, carefully setting up his makeshift bed. He takes out a cotton blanket from his bag, something Sam doesn't expect. Sam watches as Tommy pulls the cushions to the floor, covers the sofa with his blanket. When he strips off his shirt Sam turns away, flicks off the kitchen light, and makes his way back to the bedroom.
He showers first, then lays in bed naked, mulling. He thinks about the first time he met Tommy, how young he looked. How mean he looked for his age, tired and wary and distrustful. He wouldn't have wished this life for Tommy if he'd known about him. But he didn't. For a long while Sam thought if he had parents that accepted him all his problems would be solved. But that wasn't necessarily true. All he had to do was look at Tommy.
Lafayette doesn't approve.
"Have you lost your damn mind?" The door to Sam's office slams open. Lafayette stands at the threshold, frying spatula resting on one hip.
Sam usually doesn't mind distractions from dealing with vendor invoices and employee reimbursements; amongst many things he didn't consider when he first decided to open a bar.
"What now." He asks.
"What now? That Tommy boy is what now. Did you let him move in with you last night?"
Sam takes his time penning in remaining inventory. "That's none of your business."
Lafayette snorts and Sam doesn't have to look up to know he's got one hip cocked, the spatula now pointing in Sam's direction.
"It better not become my business."
When he gets home that night Sam finds Tommy curled up on the sofa, fast asleep.
He makes a big deal of throwing the door open until it knocks against the wall, sending his keys skidding across the kitchen counter but Tommy doesn't stir.
Sam pulls Tommy's pillow out from under his grasp.
"Huh, what?" Tommy rubs the back of his hand against one eye, staring blearily up at Sam out of the other. The bare skin of his back is pale compared to his arms and legs. It's strangely endearing.
"What happened to leaving in the morning?" Sam asks.
"I guess I overslept." Tommy scrambles to a sitting position. His blanket slides off his back, pools around his waist.
"Whoa." Sam averts his gaze. "Put some clothes on." He's seen Tommy naked before, several times, but it feels different now, here in Sam's home. Just the two of them.
"Oh. Sorry." Tommy grabs at the blanket, drawing it around him. He slumps back down.
"You don't think I could…" Tommy trails off, keeps his head down. He draws little circles with the tip of his thumb on the opposite wrist. Sam watches. "Could I stay here for a while?"
Sam knows he'd be crazy to do anything other than send Tommy right back where he came from. But he's never had this; never had anyone live with him or even want to live with him and it feels good, having Tommy ask.
He takes a seat next to Tommy.
"Give me one good reason why."
"Well. Remember that night I caught you in your anger management circle?"
Sam casts Tommy a sideways look.
"I mean, with the other shape shifter people?"
"Yeah I know, continue."
"Well I thought we could. You know. Start building that trust we talked about. I thought if I stayed here for a while we could start trusting each other." He shrugs. "Like brothers."
Sam drops his head against the back of the couch, tries not to groan. He doesn't want to make this decision but it's been a while coming, since the first time he met Tommy.
"Yeah. I guess we could give it a try."
The first week is full of adjustments, mostly for Sam. Tommy wakes up early in the morning, (well, early in Sam's book), making as much noise as possible fixing his breakfast before he leaves for the day.
"You ain't never got anything good here to eat." Tommy complains from Sam's bedroom door, his hands braced on the frame at either side of him. It's Thursday morning, and usually Tommy would be out by this time.
Sam moans, turns over in bed. "Fix yourself something."
"There's nothing here." Tommy enunciates slowly, like Sam's stupid.
Sam flails his arm out, reaches for his wallet on the nightstand. He fumbles around for a bit than throws Tommy a ten dollar bill.
Sam wakes up around noon to the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee. He puts on yesterday's jeans and shuffles into the kitchen. Tommy is there, flipping bacon in a pan, humming along to his iPod. The edges of the bacon strips are burnt black, like he's had the heat on too high. But it still smells like heaven. When he notices Sam he grins wide, his whole face brightens.
"Made you breakfast." Tommy says, pulling at the headphones jammed over his ears.
"I can see that." Sam has one arm out, leaning against the counter. He waits for the other shoe to drop, but Tommy only grabs a plate and starts shoveling through the pile of scrambled eggs. "I didn't know how you like 'em so I thought scrambling was a safe bet. Everyone likes scrambled, right?"
"Right." Sam grabs a barstool and sits at the counter. Tommy watches until Sam take his first bite. "Any good?"
It's surprisingly delicious. "This is actually pretty good." Sam gives Tommy a thumbs up.
"You say that like you're surprised."
"Well. I am surprised."
Tommy shrugs. He turns to pour Sam a cup of coffee. He points at the milk jug but Sam declines, shaking his head. "I got used to making food for myself when there wasn't any."
He doesn't talk about his past that much and Sam can't blame him. From what little he's gathered there isn't a whole lot worth remembering anyway.
"That's good." Sam sips from his coffee. "It's nice knowing you can take care of yourself, huh."
"Yeah." Tommy agrees. He almost looks shy. "And now I can take care of you too."
Sam doesn't know what to say. He's startled, and a little embarrassed, because he's supposed to be the adult, he's supposed to be taking care of Tommy. But this feels nice, waking up and knowing Tommy will be around. Knowing that Tommy is thinking about him too.
"Yeah." Sam finally says. "I guess we can both take care of each other."
Tommy beams.
Sam isn't sure exactly what Tommy gets up to during the day, but he figures having him work at Merlotte's would be infinitely better. He opens up shop earlier than usual Thursday afternoon so he can show Tommy the ropes. Tommy catches on quickly, given the circumstances. He sulks for a bit when he finds out what Sam has in mind.
"You can't read and Lafayette won't allow you in the kitchen." Sam shoves a mop at Tommy, who takes it and scowls.
"What about being a waiter?"
"We've got Sookie and Arlene for that. And did you forget the part where you gotta write stuff down?"
"I've got a good memory."
"Not good enough for this." Sam says and crosses his arms. It's his signal that this will be his final word and Tommy seems to pick up on it. He grabs the bucket of water and his feet and carries it to the opposite end of the room. They haven't opened yet so all the chairs are stacked upside down on the tables, and the floor is clear for him to clean. Sam watches until he sees Tommy dunk the mop a few times until it's wet. Once he starts wiping the floor Sam leaves for the office.
They shift on Saturday night for the first time, together. Part of the house rules is that Tommy doesn't shift without Sam knowing first. Sam figures this will keep Tommy out of as much trouble as possible. Tommy starts stripping as he's leaving the front door but Sam puts a hand on his arm, stopping him. "Not until we reach the woods."
Once they're far enough between the trees so that no one can see, they each eagerly rid themselves of their clothing. Tommy's got his fair share of scars just like Sam. But his skin is paler, softer. He's shorter than Sam and a bit stockier in build.
Tommy smiles and Sam can tell he's gearing to shift.
"Hold on a second." Sam says, still pulling off his jeans, but Tommy crouches, shifts into his favorite pit bull form and takes off. Sam doesn't think, he reacts, shifting into his collie form and chasing after Tommy.
Tommy's younger, more agile, and he's got a good start but Sam catches up. Collies are faster, and an angry collie is even faster still. He nips at Tommy's heels until he's close enough to bowl him over, biting down hard on Tommy's neck. Tommy yelps, caught off guard. They shift back to human form together. Sam fights to gain control, pine needles rough on his side and knees. He manages to pin Tommy down, "What did I say about sticking together?" Sam says roughly, shaking Tommy a bit.
Tommy gasps and tries to push Sam off but Sam is stronger. He settles a knee in the small of Tommy's back, "Ah, fuck, Sam."
"You're just determined to get us all in trouble ain't you." Sam shakes him again and Tommy whines in distress.
"I'm sorry," Tommy says, his breath coming out shaky and weak. "Please, I'm sorry Sam."
Sam lets go suddenly, disgusted with his own behavior. He gets off Tommy and stands up, breathing hard. He looks back down, ready to apologize, wandering what the hell he was even thinking, but when he sees Tommy he pauses. Tommy's half hard, his cock jutting up and away from his stomach. His chest heaves, his face is flushed.
"I…" Sam starts, not knowing what to say. Tommy visibly swallows, the color high in his cheeks. Sam kneels down again, in front of Tommy and Tommy leans back on his elbows. Sam places his palm flat against Tommy's stomach, rubbing his thumb gently against the skin there.
"Is this okay, Tommy?" Sam asks, his voice hoarse, needy.
Tommy nods, licks at his lips and that's all Sam needs really. He kisses Tommy slow at first then deeper, licking inside his mouth. He pushes Tommy until his back is flush against the ground and he leans over him, fisting Tommy's cock in his hand and pumping in long, firm strokes. Tommy gasps, bucking up into Sam's grip. He pulls away for breath and Sam licks down his neck to his chest, tonguing at a nipple.
Tommy's breath goes ragged and when he's close he starts whimpering and bucking his hips faster. Sam quickens his strokes until Tommy reaches his orgasm, shuddering, come dribbling over Sam's fingers.
His fingers dig into Sam's arms and he whimpers, keens when Sam keeps touching his softening cock. Sam lets go, leaning back down to kiss him, whispering his name over and over again. He's in shock, he can't believe what's happened, can't believe it's escalated that fast but he doesn't regret it. It feels right, Tommy feels right underneath him, holding onto him, kissing him.
They struggle with each other once they get home. Tommy is eager, already getting hard again as he kisses Sam. His hands are everywhere and Sam has to slow him down.
"Take it easy, Tommy" Sam stills Tommy's hands. "Let's take this into the bedroom at least."
It's slower this time around. Tommy's pliant under Sam's touch but just as eager. Sam pushes him down on the bed and frames his body with an arm on either side, rubbing their cocks together.
"You like that? Yeah?" Sam asks and Tommy bites his lips, nods. Sam is almost painfully hard, his cock leaking. He pumps Tommy's cock a few times before pressing the spot beneath his sack and moving further, rubbing the pad of his thumb against Tommy's hole. Tommy's legs fall open, easy, and he holds onto Sam's shoulders.
"Ah, Sam, I—"
"You haven't done this before?" Sam asks, kissing Tommy lightly on the lips. "It's ok, I'll go slow. Is that alright with you?"
"Yeah."
"You want it?"
"Yes. Please." Tommy chokes out. Sam reaches in the nightstand for lube. He presses in a slick finger slowly, dripping lube onto Tommy's hole, around his finger. Tommy whimpers and arches up, jerking his cock with his hand. He cranes his head forward, trying to look at where Sam's finger is disappearing inside him.
"That's a good boy." Sam says and he adds a second finger, pressing and searching inside Tommy until he finds his spot. Tommy's cock jerks and he whines, high in his throat, like he wasn't expecting it to feel good.
When he's ready Sam lines up his cock at Tommy's entrance and presses in slow. He pushes Tommy's knees towards his chest, opening him up further and the delicious tight heat of him around Sam's cock is almost more than he can stand.
"So fucking tight." Sam gasps. He waits a moment for Tommy to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in. He angles his hips so he can hit Tommy's spot again then fucks him, fast sharp thrusts. A flush creeps up Tommy's chest to his neck, he shuts his eyes, his mouth goes slack. He concentrates so hard on Sam fucking him that he forgets to keep jerking off, and Sam leaves him like that, knowing he can make him come without touching his cock.
It doesn't take long. Tommy starts keening with every thrust inside of him and Same braces him, pushing him down into the mattress. Tommy clamps down on Sam's cock, coming fast and hard, in spurts all over his chest and Sam follows right after him.
Sam slumps over Tommy, spent, and they lay there breathing together for a while. Tommy rubs Sam's back lazily, like he's doesn't have any energy left, petting at Sam's hair. He says something soft and hoarse against Sam's skin and Sam pulls out, curling at Tommy's side. He'll ask him later, what he said. For now, he's completely content, knowing he's got Tommy besides him.