#red this fic ate my frontal lobe i hope you enjoy it !!!

[tommybowefuneralattendee]

Hey wait I said I'd give you a tommien prompt, didn't I? Uh...521

hiiiiii red so funny story 521 did not spark joy so this is actually for prompt 251, which i very well could have lied about given the nature of the spreadsheet, but we're vibing. number 251 on the spreadsheet is from this list of prompts the prompt generated in specific is: Kisses to calm the other down

linked on ao3 || read under the cut || 3.6k, rated T

summary:

overwhelmed and anxious in public unfortunately isn't new to damien. being checked on by tommy bowe? that's a little new. || or, damien and tommy are briefly at a party together.

With how easily Tommy sees through feelings anyone has anybody else, Damien should be glad that he seems to have a big old blindspot when it comes to feelings somebody might have for him. It's embarrassing, right, to crush on a coworker, and you should hope that they never notice so that you can make it go away before it becomes a problem. That's the normal response to that. He should be glad that he doesn't have to deal with that particular anxiety, but seeing as he has to deal with all the other shit, at least knowing exactly where he stands with Tommy would make things easier, in theory. All the other shit being Ian nudging him whenever Tommy walks into a room, Spencer's jokes, or Shayne offering to wingman for him, probably poorly if Damien would actually let him. No risk of that, though. He's not gonna say a goddamn thing.

It's just that he can't help but smile every time he hears Tommy's voice. It's just that Tommy is one of the funniest people he's ever met in a fucking building full of funny people, and he's nice but he still has bite to him, and he's so beautiful. He's so, so beautiful. He didn't really think about it when he first met Tommy. He wasn't ready to think about it. Tommy was just a guy at work who was pretty cool, but it wasn't like Damien was hung up on the thought of him. No, that part came a little later.

Falling for someone all at once isn't really something that happens to Damien. He believes in love at first sight, sure, but mostly as a nebulous concept for other people, not as something he sees himself as capable of experiencing. He needs a minute to settle into a crush, just a little time for him to convince his brain that he is not a frog and this is not a pot of water slowly coming to boil, that even if he does have some gentled sort of feeling for someone, it isn't going to tear down the walls of his life. He works very well with how his life currently is. He's stable. Risking that just isn't a fucking option.

Damien goes to therapy. He's pretty well versed in how to identify and then come down from an anxiety attack. Unfortunately, most of his coping strategies have to do with securing a quiet, private space and regulating his breathing. He doesn't even remember who Ian said this house belonged to, patting Damien on the shoulder and basically telling him to go play with the other kids, as if he's not three years older than Damien and much more likely to do stupid shit besides. Well, given their circumstances. Anthony is here and Shayne isn't, so Ian's a lot more likely to get into stupid shit tonight. In a sans-Anthony-add-Shayne situation? He probably could not say the same thing. Boys will be boys means pushing Shayne down a flight of stairs in a laundry basket and scoring his ability to not bust his ass.

Usually, distracting himself with humor helps at least somewhat when he's in a public situation he's unable to extract himself from, but the overstimulation is worsening the anxiety is worsening the overstimulation, like the world's worst mental health circle jerk. He lasted an admirable amount of time amongst strangers in his own opinion, at least an hour, probably. He hasn't been checking the time, but he's sure. He's at least four rooms away from the nearest speaker, but he can still feel the music in the floorboards beneath his shoes, buzzing through the air. There are too many people here. How many people do you need at a party? Shit, he shouldn't be here. He's a friend of a friend of a friend, maybe, or maybe just a friend of a friend, he doesn't know who threw this party. He doesn't know who this house belongs to. He ended up in a walk-in closet somewhere in the back of the house, sitting on the floor, trying to let being in the dark calm him down enough to stop caring about the vibration of the floor. He's not good at parties, okay? It doesn't come up much.

There's a lot of really nice clothes in here. They're on racks like this is a theatre department or something, so Damien is sitting on the floor leaning against the clear wall on the side that functions as a hallway of sorts. A passageway, rather. He can see the door and the back of the room from here, so maybe that will reduce his anxiety some. Or, like, it would, if the door wasn't already being pushed open, scant minutes after Damien had finally found the space alone. He's about to protest verbally, because he's working on self advocacy in therapy and a party is a largely low consequence event to try setting boundaries at. But, well.

It's Tommy. And he looks so relieved when he sees Damien, like he had been looking for him.

"I was looking for you!" he says, walking into the room on steady feet. Relief traces a guilty trail down the back of his throat. He wants Tommy to have fun, of course he does. He's just glad he's not gonna have to deal with a drunk person right now.

"You found me," he says, voice tight. Immediately, Tommy steps closer, eyebrows coming together in concern. He stops a few feet away from Damien, close enough to speak but still giving him space.

"How can I help?" he asks, so horribly earnest. A slightly unhinged little giggle works its way out of Damien's throat, anxiety so thick in his mouth it feels like he's choking on it.

"I don't um- stay? Just. Stay a minute?" God, this is embarrassing. And in front of Tommy, of all fucking people.

"Of course," Tommy says, sitting down on the floor next to Damien, back to the same wall Damien is leaning against, close but not touching. Neither of them say anything for a second, several seconds, a minute. He couldn't be sure how long they sit there together, the only sound the music from across the house and their breathing. Despite it all, calm is still water in Damien's fingers, so close that he can feel it but slipping every time, catching on the roughness of his panic. Tommy lasts an admirable amount of time before he starts fidgeting, picking at his fingers and smoothing down his pants. Damien turns his head, looking at Tommy sidelong with a cracked open grin.

"You don't have to stay, Tommy. Go have fun," he says, quieter than he means to and with an unintended sort of rasp. It's a tone that always makes him think of the last days of summer before school came back, that delicate intersection of bittersweet anxiety, of fond resignation. Tommy makes a protesting noise.

"I just found you," he says, matching him for volume. It's been several minutes, probably close to ten at this point. Obviously, Tommy is right and that's not a terribly long amount of time, but it seems like a long time to sit in silence with someone at a party where everyone else is having a ball, without some other form of shared entertainment. The idea of that, shared entertainment with Tommy Bowe, has Damien glad that it's pretty dim in here, the only light coming from strip lights at the top of the walls. Better it be dim than Tommy be able to see how red his face is right now, anyway.

"Go have fun, Tommy," Damien repeats, thinned out with the reticence he can't seem to shake. Tommy makes another noise of protest, this one a little more frustrated.

"I'm exactly where I need to be," he says, sure as anything. There's a tension in the air that has nothing to do with Damien's anxiety, something wire tight that appears most every time he's alone with Tommy, that comfort underscored by that almost-but-not-really romantic tension that never feels as easy as it should.

"Don't get me wrong, you being here is helping, but I don't think need is a fair thing to say," Damien tries to joke, smile going crooked on his face. Tommy smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes, gaze glued to the floor. For a moment, Damien flounders, sure he's said something wrong.

"Who said it was about you needing me?” Tommy asks, to which Damien's mouth snaps shut, because he supposes that isn't what Tommy said. Guilt roils in his stomach; he's been trying to get better at not thinking the worst of his friends.

"Sorry," he says, unable to articulate exactly what for but needing to say it anyway. Sorry for putting words in Tommy's mouth. Sorry for being a fucking mess. Sorry Tommy might need him.

"It's all good, Damien," Tommy says, soft and careful. He shouldn't have to control his tone around Damien.

Damien clears his throat. "Yeah," he says, wiping his hands on his jeans. His palms are still sweating, his heart still feels like it's going a thousand miles an hour, and he doesn't really think he could get up off the floor without getting extraordinarily lightheaded. He's doing that thing again, cataloging his symptoms like a sort of self case study, collecting data on the things that should feel most real to him. There's this distance from the skin when he feels like this, like he is both outside of and lost in his body, observer and observed, a rat in his own laboratory. He doesn't even realize he's wandering off in his head again until Tommy reaches toward him in his peripheral vision, pausing mid-air.

"Hey, can I touch you?" Tommy asks, ducking his head close so that he can keep his voice lowered. His knee is already close enough to his thigh that Damien can feel the warmth coming off of him, but sure, why not? It's not like this isn't already embarrassing enough.

"Yeah, um. Yeah," Damien says, shaky. He has to make conscious effort not to flinch when Tommy's hand rests upon his face, careful and just a bit cold, like Tommy had been outside before he came and found Damien and still hadn't warmed up. He can't say he was expecting Tommy to touch his face, fingers and palm careful in cupping his cheek. There's an instantaneous calming factor to his touch, as if Tommy himself, the feeling of his skin, is enough to settle whatever storm lays beneath his breastbone.

"Close your eyes," Tommy says, and so Damien does, doing his best not to list into Tommy's hand. There's pressure against his mouth then, solid but gentle, confident but not overwhelming. Just this shade tentative. A small noise comes from deep in Damien's throat and he's pressing into the kiss, an approval that has Tommy weaving fingers in his hair. They should probably talk about this maybe, but Tommy's hands are in his hair and Tommy's tongue is in his mouth and he's leaning into Damien like he's gonna climb in his lap, and it's all very much, okay? He's not exactly making it from point A to point B on the logic highway. He is taking the backroads. He's cruising.

Tommy does climb in his lap in a second, but not in the way Damien expected. Instead, Tommy is gently guiding him fully into laying on his back, thighs spread across Damien's hips. His weight feels like it's holding Damien down to the planet more than gravity ever could. When he pulls back, breaking the kiss, Tommy chases his mouth, kissing him one last time before sitting up, perched on Damien's lap like it's exactly where he's supposed to be. Damien can't help but agree. Still. Talking about this. Bracing against the floor and the wall, he sits up with Tommy still in his lap, leaving them with a little height difference, being as Tommy is taller than him standing and not to mention in his lap (which Damien cannot even pretend to be cool about to himself, he can't imagine telling Shayne about this later, which he'll inevitably have to do, because how the fuck else is he supposed to process this?) so he's got quite a few inches on Damien in this position.

"I have no idea what's going on," Damien says honestly, sparking a cute little giggle that Tommy tries to muffle in his shoulder. He runs his hands up and down Tommy's back, touching and feeling and all of the things he's always wanted but was too scared to do. Well, not all the things, this isn't his house and he's not a that kind of guy, and also he has no idea where he would get certain things that would be needed in this situation here, and also there's a lot they haven't discussed yet, and Damien has to still be a little more anxious than he thought, because based off of the way Tommy's body is shaking in his lap, he's said all of this aloud and Tommy is laughing at him. Which, fair. Damien is also laughing, nose tucked up against Tommy's hairline, the smell of his skin, his cologne, his body wash all flowing over Damien, comforting. Grounding. Fuck, this would be so much worse if Tommy hadn't found him.

"Well, I'm glad I could help, baby," Tommy teases, bussing a kiss across Damien's temple as he pulls back to look at him. Tommy's always pretty, but he's especially pretty this close up, eyes still bright in the dim and so, so brown. Damien can't help but lean up to kiss him again, quick and sweet, a theft. Tommy runs his fingers through Damien's hair again, tilting Damien's head back in his hands. Damien looks up at him, reverent and rapturous.

"I really like you, Tommy," he rasps, unable to make himself anything but honest beneath these hands and looking up at those eyes. Relief suffuses through him when Tommy smiles widely down at him, pecking him on the mouth.

"That's really lucky," he says, saying nothing more. Damien's smile goes soft, his eyebrows raised. Tommy rests his forehead against Damien's.

"Why's that?" Damien asks, more of a whisper than anything.

"I really like you too," Tommy whispers back, closing the gap between their mouths and kissing Damien. They're both smiling a little too much for this to go perfectly, but Damien's not sure he'd have it any other way. The world feels small again, focused in this place with Tommy where they're close and everything important is right here, right in Damien's line of sight. Tommy kisses him one last time, climbing out of Damien's lap and stumbling to his feet. Righting himself, he offers a hand to Damien, who takes it and stands with him despite not knowing the reason they're standing in the first place.

He voices as much to Tommy, who laughs.

"I was coming to find you to see if you wanted to go home with me? Not, like. Not in this way, because I didn't know this way was, well. An option. And it still doesn't have to be in any certain kind of way, of course, I just saw you earlier and you looked as uncomfortable as I was but by the time I had talked my way out of the conversation I had been looped into, I couldn't find you, and now-"

"And now we're here, and you can want to take me home in any way you want," Damien assures, adding a bit of a good natured leer into the sentiment. Tommy laughs, swatting him in the shoulder.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice, I am in a public place," he says, pursing his mouth to keep himself from smiling. Leaning into Tommy's space, Damien lowers the timber of his voice just a bit, riding that line between joking flirtation and genuine. Irony and earnesty. Never sure which one is more embarrassing. Even less sure which one is real.

"And if we weren't in public?" he asks, gravel low and coffee rich. Tommy rolls his eyes, shoving at Damien's chest halfheartedly, lingering with his palm over Damien's sternum.

"You're doing voice actor bullshit," he says, still trying not to smile and failing so beautifully. Damien cups the nape of Tommy's neck, tilting his head so Damien can just barely brush their lips against one another.

"Is it working for you?" he asks, breaking the moment by breaking into giggles. Tommy shoves at his chest for real now, laughing as he stumbles away from Damien in the direction of the door.

"Fuck you," he says, but he reaches for Damien's hand, given to him freely without verbal ask.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Damien remarks, the temptation of trying his luck looming too large for him to ignore. Tommy looks back at him just to roll his eyes but doesn't drop Damien's hand, leading him through the sprawling house like he knows exactly where he's going. When he asks Tommy about it, he shrugs his shoulders.

"I get really anxious about not knowing where I'm going, so I kinda memorize paths in new places, like. Automatically? Just because I've been doing it so long, I guess," he explains, shrugging his shoulders again as if that's not impressive as fuck.

"That's impressive as fuck," Damien says aloud, needing to impress this upon Tommy, who laughs, but the back of his neck is pink and he's not looking at Damien, so something is telling him he's taking the compliment. God, to be able to compliment Tommy freely, tell him he's pretty, tell him he's awesome and funny and smart and probably the most interesting person Damien knows, including every weirdo voice actor he's ever worked with, which is saying something, but he can't unload all of this onto Tommy at once because holy shit, that would not be fair or cool. Instead, he follows behind Tommy quietly, just holding his hand and walking, mind going quiet as well. The pound of the bass doesn't feel as piercing as it once did, the sensation of vibration almost pleasant now that he doesn't feel like a thousand things are happening at once. Exiting into a quiet little side yard area is like bursting out of water, breaking the surface tension of a pool. Tommy leads him directly out of a gate that Damien definitely wouldn't have noticed on his own, let alone that quickly, further lending credence to the idea that Tommy is so much better at basic navigation than he is.

"Chanse led me in on this side, apparently he's been here before," Tommy says, answering the questions Damien hasn't even asked yet. Fondness for him surges within Damien as he processes what he actually said, nodding.

"Oh, cool. Any idea whose house it is?" he asks, which is apparently funny, because Tommy nearly trips over himself laughing. It was a genuine question, but people often think Damien's genuine questions are funny. Autism thing? Possibly. He's never been quite so proud of it before, though. Never quite so proud as when he can make Tommy laugh.

"Not a fucking clue," Tommy says, cutting fond eyes at him before leading Damien to the passenger side of his car, leaning against it with Damien's hand still in his.

"Is this where you tell me I'm not the only girl you took to the prom?" Damien asks, unable to bear even a second of awkward silence when everything in his chest feels so equally light and tight. Hot air balloon heart and Hindenburg lungs. Tommy huffs a laugh, his breath visible in the air.

"Yeah, sorry, babe, it's just- I just had a solid second where I could not think of a single name a woman might have. Am I gay enough it makes me dumber? Damien, I'm serious," Tommy insists through Damien's laughter, though he's laughing too, so Damien isn't sure who he's trying to convince. Grin wide on his mouth, Damien holds Tommy's face in both hands, thumb stroking over his cheekbone, touching and touching and touching. He gets to watch as Tommy calms in his grasp, though his grin doesn't dull in the slightest.

"You are," Damien says, pausing to kiss Tommy briefly, "so fucking cute." Tommy makes a frustrated noise, cute and high, both hands on Damien's chest but not even half assing pushing him away this time, just resting there, one palm flat on his chest while the other hand curls into a fist in his shirt. Damien kisses him again and he can feel when he's got Tommy caught up in it, when Tommy is paying more attention to Damien and what Damien is doing to him than the world around him and inside his head. Having Tommy's attention on him is heady like smoke, rolling across Damien's skin and making his vision hazy, clouded. It's Damien that chases Tommy's mouth this time, and him as well who is held back by that palm flat on his chest.

"Making out with you in the street outside of the house of someone much richer than either of us is not on the gay agenda for the evening," he insists. Damien kisses him again and steps away, laughing as Tommy's lips fall into a pout.

"Can't break the gay agenda, Tommy. Tell me what we're doing," he says, soft and indulgent and earning another of Tommy's smiles. He hooks his fingers in the collar of Damien's shirt, knuckles rubbing against his skin. It trips Damien up a little, breath catching in his throat as he looks at those big brown eyes, that beautiful smile.

"Come home with me," Tommy whispers, sweet and close. Damien leans close, their lips nearly brushing as he replies,

"Let's go."

#tommien #tommy #damien #mine #smosh fic #ask answered #spreadsheet fill #red this fic ate my frontal lobe i hope you enjoy it !!! #prompt filled #drowninginredink