Title: Wake Up Call
Rating: PG
Fandom: 21 Jump Street, Tom/Doug
Movie/quote: #055 North by Northwest (1959) -- "I want you to leave right now, stay far away from me, and don't come near me again. We're not going to get involved. Last night was last night, and it's all there was, and it's all there is. There isn't going to be anything more between us. So please. Goodbye, good luck, no conversation, just leave."
Summary: "I was beginning to think you weren't coming out."
Disclaimer: I do not own, but I sorely wish I did.
Author's Notes: I was trying to go for the cliche "what took you so long?" ending, without using those actual words. Hope it doesn't come out as too lame xD Also, supposed to take place early in the relationship, whenever that is. Was? Also, was written for the 10quotes community on livejournal.
Sunlight had never before seemed so malicious. It threatened to burn his eyes open, which was why Tom's eyes were scrunched shut as tightly as he could make them. He felt cold, sort of, but warm at the same time-- mostly sore. He was quite aware of the stench of day-old alcohol in his room, and the back of his hand smacked the back of his forehead. Great. A hang over; exactly what he needed.
He wasn't aware of the even more overwhelming stench of semen until a figure in the bed next to him moved and the bed creaked. Tom's eyes shot open, and he knew exactly what to expect. Yet, somehow, he didn't want to see it.
There he was, there Doug was-- in the same bed, sweat glistening in the sunlight and a light sheet thrown over both of their waists. And fuck, did Penhall look great. The meaning of all of this, however, took a few seconds longer to realize.
Tom and Doug had been dating for a few weeks. Nothing serious-- a same-sex relationship was something that was completely new to both of them. It had been Tom who had put his foot down and claimed he wasn't ready-- which he wasn't. He didn't know when he would be. He liked Doug-- he liked him a lot, and more than just the friendly way he did when they had first met. Perhaps it was edging on love, even, but Tom wasn't sure. He was too afraid to admit any of it, if he did love him. Love was a strange thing to Tom, 'I love you' never being words he took lightly. And with Doug, it was even more infinitely important. To be honest, Tom was half terrified of their relationship, and half infatuated with it.
And no matter how glorious Doug looked lying there, bathed in sun-light, there was that nagging voice in the back of his head that was gradually becoming louder. You slept with him.
Once the words made enough sense, Tom's breathing hitched. This was the part of the relationship he had had Doug waiting for, and Tom couldn't even remember them having sex. He could barely remember last night, his mind bleary from either the alcohol or the early morning. He couldn't, no matter how desperately he tried, manage to grab hold of his mind and let it sit there and not overreact. His mind was racing. Inside, he felt like he was ready to explode. Outside, he felt like he just wanted to collapse. But don't collapse, the voice in the back of his head said, you'll just end up in his arms. Isn't that usually how this kind of thing happens in the first place?
Shut up, Tom said, not minding the fact that he was quite literally arguing with himself.
Well, think about it, kid--
Tom had no time to reflect over the fact that he had quite literally just referred to himself as 'kid'-- Doug was stirring. Oh God, he would be awake, and Tom had no idea what to do. No idea what to say. He didn't know how he felt, not yet. He need just a little bit longer to think-- was that too much to ask for?
"Morning babe," Doug said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. Tom lightened a little. He loved it when Doug called him babe. His back grew tense again when Doug sat up, however, and stared at Tom. "You look-- Tommy, you okay?"
Oh God, what do I say? I could-- no-- yes? I don't know. Fuck. Give me some time to think, Doug. I'm not sure how I feel about this yet. Maybe we didn't have sex. No, I'm just being stupid. You don't just end up in a bed with someone, naked, and then assume you didn't have sex. It doesn't work like that. Oh, fuck, Doug, stop. I know you need an answer. I can see that, but I don't-- um-- oh, fuck.
"Tommy?" Doug repeated. Tom bowed his head, intending to put his head in his arms, but finding he didn't have the strength to lift them. Doug was quiet for a moment, and then Tom felt bare skin wrapping around his naked waist.
Tom flinched away, pulling the blanket away with him. He had common sense enough to remember not to look at Doug, keeping the sheet wrapped firmly around his waist, as he stared at the wall in front of him, opposite from Doug. "D-don't." Stuttering. Smooth.
"Tom, I--" Doug stopped, apprehensive. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, fuck," Tom mumbled out loud.
"Oh fuck, what?" There was a rustling as Doug moved in the bed, followed by a squeak. "Tom, you have to talk to me to let me understand."
"We didn't--" Tom didn't know how to say the question without sounding stupid. We didn't have sex, did we? What a fantastic question. He would never look like an idiot asking it.
"We didn't what, Tom?" Doug asked, his voice sounding slightly irritated.
"You know--" Tom said, grasping the sheet tighter around his waist. He didn't know how to say it.
"No, I don't." Tom sensed Doug's hand reaching towards him, and he moved out of the way. He couldn't let them make physical contact, not now. "What the hell, Tom?"
"We didn't, you know-- do anything?" Tom said desperately. He flinched in the silence, knowing what was coming. There was a moment before Doug replied to this question.
"You said you were ready--"
"I was drunk, Doug--"
"That doesn't change the fact that--"
"Yes it does!"
"No it doesn't!"
"Yes--"
"No--"
"Yes--"
"No it doesn't!"
Tom didn't answer this time. He couldn't get worked up. That wasn't necessary.
"I want you to leave right now, stay far away from me, and don't come near me again. We're not going to get involved. Last night was last night, and it's all there was, and it's all there is. There isn't going to be anything more between us. So please. Goodbye, good luck, no conversation, just leave." The words were out of Tom's mouth before he could comprehend what they meant. Nonetheless, there was still a rustling behind him. Perturbed by his own wording, he only finally flinched when the door slammed shut.
He wanted to sit on his bed, naked, abashed. Yet somehow, it was too much of a simplistic thing. So instead, Tom kept staring straight ahead. Straight at the wall, like it would give him the answer to every problem he had ever asked.
He couldn't even remember it. Which led him to believe-- no, know that he wanted to know. Maybe he was crazy, standing there and wondering to himself, Hm. Well, maybe if I remembered the sex, it wouldn't be so bad. And then maybe I wouldn't have kicked him out.
He was certainly crazy.
There was no question about it. If he could have remembered the sex, it would have been udoubtedly worse. Much, much worse. Which was why he found himself wondering... How... what... really?
Unformed questions were racing in his mind. It was frustrating Tom. Well, as far as he could tell, he had two options. He could let Doug get away. Of course, if he did that, he wasn't quite sure what would happen after that. Or, he could throw on a pair of pants and run around outside, commando and without a shirt on, looking for Doug. Then he'd have Doug sit on the couch, until he reached his final opinion about the whole situation, and then he'd either kick Doug out of his apartment again or let him stay there.
The latter may leave him more abashed, slightly humiliated even-- but Tom liked the sound of it better. So, pants, where are you?
The pants were on-- they felt a bit too tight around his backside (although, the fact that he was unbelievably sore there may have been a factor as to why), even as the waistband felt like it was about to fall off. Fantastic. In an attempt to hide the fact that his butt might be falling out of his pants in the near future, he grabbed an over-sized t-shirt and was out the door before it was pulled completely over his head
Doug was there, all the same, sitting next to the door. Tom snorted, pulling the shirt on all the way. Doug knew him too well.
"Hi," Tom said lamely. "You... wanna?"
"Sure," Doug said quickly, standing up. He looked bored, but happy. It was like this had happened twenty times before-- which it had, just without the sex.
"Thanks," Tom said.
"No problem," Doug replied nonchalantly, wrapping an arm around Tom's waist. (Damn you, Doug). "I was beginning to think you weren't coming out."
"It took five minutes, Doug," Tom retorted.
"That's four minutes longer than I usually have to wait."