On the Subject of Breakups
by scone
When she'd broken up with him, Hoagie had locked himself in his room with the bottle of vodka he'd snuck past their mother. The lock - a little 2x4 remnant from years ago – had provided no challenge at all to Tommy, who'd never really learned to respect his brother's privacy anyway. So when he'd broken in and found the older boy slumped in a corner, drinking right from the bottle, Tommy had simply shut the door back behind him.
"Hoagie," he'd started, but Hoagie just shook his head, taking a swig.
"She said I was too nice. What does that mean, 'too nice'?" Another swig, accompanied by a choking sound as the full taste of the alcohol hit. "I don't understand girls."
Tommy stood there, quietly. At sixteen he should have been able to relate, but found he couldn't. Hoagie just rolled his eyes and lifted the bottle in offering, scooting just slightly to make room for the younger boy in the corner.
"I mean, I thought… I don't know what I thought." Hoagie watched as his little brother took a long, gulping drink, raising a bleary eyebrow. "Don't drink it so fast."
Coughing, Tommy shook his head, handing back the bottle. "It's okay, big brother."
"No, it's not." Hoagie slumped down even further, staring down his legs at his feet. "It's not. I think I'm drunk, Tommy." He said this with a great sense of profundity, sighing and leaning against his brother hopelessly. "I'm drunk and single and hanging out with you, so it's not okay."
Tommy shifted a bit under the sudden weight, reaching over to pat his brother on the head and ignoring the sting of that last statement. They sat like for a moment before Hoagie pushed himself back into a sitting position, face full of drunken determination.
"No more girls," he declared, waving the bottle a bit before taking a drink. "I've decided. 'Cause it doesn't work anyways." He grinned, hiccupping. "Like you, Tom. Good decision, to never date. Girls are just… trouble."
While Hoagie hiccupped again, looking rather pleased with himself, Tommy shook his own head. Not a great plan of action, considering the alcohol was just starting to hit him. Instead, he reached for the vodka, putting his hand over Hoagie's, wrapped tightly around the neck, and bringing the bottle to his mouth. He barely avoided brushing the other boy's fingertips with his lips.
"That's not it," he explained, letting go of the bottle and his brother. "S'not it at all – I just. They don't…"
"Pfffft, are you 'too nice', too?" Hoagie shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Guess I'm a bad role model. Or something." He shook his head again. "Don't try and copy me, Tommy."
"I know – I won't. I don't. Anymore."
"Yeah. Good." Hoagie was slowly sliding back down the wall, gazing at the bottle in slight despair, his previous good mood gone.
"That's 'cause I decided," Tommy murmured, gently prying the bottle from his brother's fingers and setting it aside, "that I can't be like you. So I decided... I mean, I want," he paused for a moment, rubbing the back of his head, "to be with you."
"Tommy," Hoagie's now empty hand fluttered like a dying bird, and he blinked hazily. "Don't. Tommy."
"It's okay," Tommy reassured, leaning forward, placing his hands on Hoagie's shoulders. "It's all okay…" He bent, giving the older boy a kiss.
Tommy managed to kiss the older boy for about twenty seconds, as Hoagie was too drunk and too surprised to do anything beside sit there and blink. Twenty seconds of ignoring everything in the universe besides their shared lips. Twenty seconds that ended abruptly when Tommy pushed it a bit further and attempted easing the other boy's lips open with his tongue.
This brought a sudden rush of action from Hoagie, a sharp noise of protest accompanied by an unceremonious shoving of the younger boy. Tommy hit the ground, hard, and both brothers paused for what seemed like forever, staring at each other.
"Shit," Tommy swore, and it was a mark of how out of it Hoagie was that he didn't get in trouble for it, "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, please don't get weird about it, I'm sorry, Hoagie," he babbled, scrambling up and shoving his glasses up his nose awkwardly. He was halfway to the door before he got any sort of response.
"Wait."
Turning around, Tommy could see his big brother climbing up from his slumped position, leaving the now forgotten vodka on the floor.
"Wait," Hoagie repeated firmly, apparently trying to wrap his head around the sudden change in... well, everything. He was starting to really regret drinking half that bottle, because his mind kept tripping in odd directions and all he could really think was Tommy kissed me Tommy kissed me Tommy kissed me Tommy and then suddenly, from somewhere far away, it felt really good.
Tommy was giving him a weird look, all apprehension and pleading for forgiveness and wanting that had only been half-stifled. There was another long, heavy pause as Hoagie shifted from one foot to the other, running a hand through his hair and blinking thoughtfully.
"I..." he shifted back to the left. "I... what was that? No, wait, I know what it was, but... why?" Tommy opened his mouth to say something, and Hoagie shook his head, wincing at the sloshy feeling it gave him. "No, no, I don't want to know. Or," he considered, attempting to ignore that little voice that'd currently taken over his entire mind with chants of actually, it felt really really good, "Or I already do. I'm not sure."
Tommy's expression changed a bit, turning into confusion and more wanting and the barest scrap of hopefulness. The younger boy made the few steps across the small bedroom, readjusting his glasses with a bit more care. Hoagie looked away, slow confusion and conflict all over his own face. But he didn't step away, and Tommy was quite used to getting even less encouragement than that.
Lifting up onto his toes, Tommy kissed his brother again. This time he didn't get pushed away when he eased his tongue into the other's mouth. In fact, after a few long, deliberative moments of one-sided kissing, the older boy responded, running his own tongue over the ridges of Tommy's much hated braces.
"Hoagie," the shorter boy murmured against the other's mouth, hands trailing down his brother's chest. "Thank you, Hoagie," His hands paused on the older boy's hips, fingers trailing along the waistband.
There was no response from Hoagie, so Tommy decided to press his luck. Slowly, his fingers found their way underneath the waistband, slowly working under the thin material of Hoagie's boxers. This time the only response he got was a sigh, which wasn't exactly a 'no' -- and when had Tommy ever taken a 'no' from his brother, anyways? And so Tommy took what he found there and wrapped his slightly shaking hands around it, giving a gentle, experimental tug.
Finally, an actual response - Hoagie let out a soft, low moan, which hovered in the air for a moment before Tommy tried again, a bit less gentle and a bit more curious. He tried to catch the other boy's mouth in another kiss, managing half of one before Hoagie pulled his head away, hissing through clenched teeth and screwing his eyes shut. In return Tommy sped up slightly, leaning his head against his brother's chest and listening to the thunderous noise of Hoagie's gasping breaths and pounding heart.
After a few moments, one of Tommy's hands abandoned its work to dive into his own pants, tracing along his own erection gently. Hoagie's hands fluttered by his side, twitchy and awkward.
A few more pumps, a bit of toying with the head, and Hoagie came with a sharp, truncated cry, closed eyes snapping open to stare, unfocused, at the opposite wall. Tommy came from the feeling of cum on his fingers.
There was a long silence as both brothers caught their breath, wherein Tommy retrieved both his hands and wiped them awkwardly on his pant legs.
"T-thank you, Hoagie," the younger boy finally mumbled, turning away just as his brother finally looked him in the eye. "I, um, won't tell mom if you don't."
Note: I officially hate myself for this. I will now commit seppuku. Also, I don't know who the unnamed girl is – the Two pairing of the reader's choice, I guess.