127
I will say your name, before I sink
McFly (Tom/Dougie/Giovanna)
1,884 words, pg, third person. I've wanted to write this pairing for a long while, and this was a scene I just couldn't get out of my head. Enjoy! ♥
Tom’s mobile wakes him up at 3:30 AM, ringing loudly from the bedside table.
Tom’s mobile wakes him up at 3:30 AM, ringing loudly from the bedside table. It’s Dougie’s ring tone, some Blink song he’d programmed into Tom’s phone without asking, and Tom’s never bothered to change it. It’s easier just being able to identify when Dougie calls - the only reason he answers the phone at all, right now, is that he knows Dougie’s on the other end.
He pulls away from Gio, rolling over to reach for his mobile, scooting up until he’s sitting and flipping it open in the same motion.
“H’lo?” he asks, voice still thick with sleep, and Gio turns over to look at him, her eyebrows raised, hair falling tangled and sleep-mussed over half of her face. Dougie, he mouths, and can see the worry soften her eyes. She props herself up on one arm and waits.
“Tom?” Dougie is hesitant, and even if the hour wasn’t an indication, his tone would be - Tom’s careful to keep any hint of annoyance or worry out of his voice.
“Dougs? What’s wrong?” Gio’s hand slides around the back of Tom’s neck, and she leans in to hear, her cheek pressed against his, warm breath against the side of his face.
“Is Gio there?” Dougie asks, instead of answering, and Tom smiles a little. Not that bad, then.
“She’s here,” Tom says, and then Gio gently takes the phone from him.
“Dougie?” She asks, her voice soft and lower than usual. Tom just watches her face while she talks to Dougie, the lines of her smile that he always wants to kiss until he can’t breathe. She’s calm and careful on the phone with Dougie in a way Tom can’t always manage - he’s high strung, and he knows it. He will never not be grateful for her. “Tom won’t mind,” she’s saying, and Tom can hear Dougie in his head, saying are you sure, Gio? Really?, the way that he always seems to, and then Gio says, “Yes, I’m sure,” turning her smile on Tom. White teeth and the warm spread of her mouth, and he has to bite his lip to keep from interrupting, saying something probably tactless and too harsh. Tom doesn’t know why Dougie still feels the need to ask, and he’s not sure how to fix it so that he doesn’t anymore. Tom doesn’t want Dougie to ask, is the thing - Tom doesn’t want Dougie to doubt them.
“It’s always fine,” he says, instead, quietly, and Gio mouths, I know. Tom leans his head on her shoulder. He can feel her breathe in and out beneath his skin.
“We’ll be here,” she says, into the phone. “Giving you back to Tom, now, okay?” Tom holds his hand out, and doesn’t move his chin from Gio’s shoulder, just puts the speaker up to his ear.
“I don’t mind, idiot, not ever,” he says, mildly. Dougie makes a noise Tom can’t quite interpret - part laugh, part something else.
“Okay,” Dougie says. Tom’s not sure if Dougie believes him or not, but he lets it rest. No reason to upset him any more then he already is. “I’ll see you in a minute.”
Tom hangs up the mobile, and puts it carefully back on the nightstand. Gio turns so that she can wrap her arms around his shoulders and kiss him on the forehead, her lips soft and slightly wet.
“He’ll be right over,” Tom says, curling up next to her. It’ll take Dougie about five minutes to get dressed and another five to walk to their house, so they don’t have long to wait. Tom remembers the conversation they had, last time, after Dougie left in the morning to change his clothes and shower - the way she’d said, what would you think about if - and he’d said, yes, yeah, without even needing her to finish. She’d pushed him down against the mattress, straddling his hips and smiling with her hair hanging down into his face, and she’d said, next time, kissing him, and he couldn’t do anything but agree and push up against her.
Gio’s body is soft against his side, her nightshirt an old football jersey Tom had gotten as a joke present from Danny two years ago - it is thin, now, with constant use and many washings, smooth against Tom’s bare arm and side. Gio sighs, and pushes her hair out of her face with a careless hand. Tom thinks he loves her more here, tucked up with him in their bed, than he does anywhere else. Here, with her tangled hair and sleepy voice, her half-lidded eyes and curved smile. He thinks, I’m so lucky, and it’s only the sound of Dougie unlocking the front door that keeps him from saying it out loud. He’s here in less time than Tom had thought, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.
Tom can hear the soft thwack of flip-flops as Dougie enters the house, the slight thud of them hitting the floor in the entranceway as he slides them off, the soft shuffle of his feet on the stairs, and then he appears in the hallway. He’s wearing blue checked pyjama pants that curl over his bare toes, just a tad too long, and an old t-shirt, worn from use- there’s a hole under one arm, another near the collar, and the decal on the front is almost completely faded.
Dougie curls a hand around the doorframe, small fingers clutching at the white wood. He’s biting his bottom lip, looking as uncertain as ever, as uncertain as he always does and it makes Tom’s heart twist in his chest, sharp and tight. Gio’s hand presses firm and stable against the small of his back, and Tom draws in a quick breath.
“Doug,” he starts, but doesn’t finish. Instead, he just holds out his hand for Dougie to take, if he wants. Tom hopes he does. Dougie looks almost like he’s going to say no - like he’s going to back through the doorway and go back home. Like he thinks he shouldn’t be here.
Tom doesn’t want him to be anywhere else.
“Please,” Tom says. “Dougie.” Gio’s hand is still on his back, fingers tracing lightly, calming, and Dougie’s eyes snap up to meet his, surprise clear on his face. He takes four steps into the bedroom and grabs Tom’s hand, still biting his lip, hair in his eyes. Tom’s always surprised by how small his hands are, almost like Gio’s, and Tom tugs him forward, until his knees hit the edge of the bed. Dougie climbs up, sitting on top of the covers, his ridiculous pyjama bottoms completely covering his feet, and Tom can’t make himself let go. Dougie sucks in a huge breath, looking down at his knees; he doesn’t talk until Gio touches his cheek with her free hand.
“I - it was the running dream again. It - wasn’t that bad tonight,” Dougie says, finally, and he looks almost defiant, daring them to suggest anything else. “Not like it is sometimes. I should’ve just - if I’d stayed home, it would only be, like, an hour before I could sleep again.” Not like the really bad nights, he doesn’t say. Neither Tom nor Gio need him to - they’ve seen the after effects. It’s disturbing, the days when Dougie’s too tired to even pretend to be normal, the dark shadows under his eyes and the firm press of his lips, like he’s too exhausted to smile. Those days still scare Tom, sometimes, but they make him angry with himself more often. He knows he can help, so why hasn’t he?
“You can stay here whenever you want,” Gio says, her voice soft, and Tom hopes that maybe, maybe Dougie will believe Gio when he won’t believe Tom. There’s steel in her voice, under the surface, no-nonsense. “We like having you here.”
Dougie shrugs fluidly, and Gio makes an irritated noise, leaning forward to kiss Dougie on the lips, short and chaste. Dougie looks up from his knees, then, eyes wide with surprise, but Gio just says,
“We don’t tell you things that aren’t true.”
“Yeah, arsehole,” Tom says, squeezing Dougie’s hand. From the expression on Dougie’s face, Tom would guess he’d forgotten he was still holding onto Tom. He still doesn’t pull away, and Tom counts this as a success, warm skin and rough calluses against his fingers. “Now get under the covers and get back to sleep. We have an interview in the morning.”
“I don’t get it,” Dougie says, his voice quiet, but he moves where they push him, lying down in the middle of the mattress. They’ve done this before, let Dougie sleep with them when he’s too scared to sleep by himself - enough times that Tom has lost count, actually, and they’ve never been anything but comforting. Warm bodies at Dougie’s sides to keep him safe, to stay with him long enough to let him sleep. Tonight, though, Tom’s too tired to be platonic, not when he and Gio want Dougie to stay here, not when he’s so tired of pretending otherwise. He presses himself up against Dougie’s back, the bare skin of his chest against the worn cotton of Dougie’s t-shirt, watching Gio over the curve of Dougie’s slight shoulders. He nudges at the back of Dougie’s neck with his nose, smelling the remnants of shampoo and boy sweat; from the way they’re touching, he can feel Dougie shiver.
Gio lets one arm drape over Dougie’s hip, and Tom tangles his fingers with hers, the soft flannel of Dougie’s pyjamas against his palm.
“What is there to get?” Gio asks once they’re settled, her lips grazing to top of Dougie’s cheekbone, her eyes meeting Tom’s over Dougie’s head. Tom smiles against Dougie’s neck. “We want you here, for as long as you want to be here.”
Tom can see the muscles in Dougie’s jaw work like he’s trying to talk, thinking of what to say, but he just turns his head slightly and kisses Gio on the lips again, soft and only a little less chaste than the one earlier. Tom chuckles - he can feel the rush of Dougie’s pulse against his mouth, steady and fast. He scrapes his teeth there, lightly, just to feel Dougie shiver again, and Gio’s fingers tighten on his. He wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t mind kissing the back of Dougie’s neck instead, tasting the salt on the skin there. He’ll get his chance again. For now, he’s not rushing this.
“Tom -” Dougie says, his voice breathy and low. Tom wishes he could see Dougie’s face just then - he wonders if he’d see confusion or desire or both, something else entirely. He imagines the blush staining Dougie’s cheeks and noses at his neck again, feels Dougie breathe in.
“Sleep,” he says, voice soft, certain. “We have a long day tomorrow.”
Dougie shudders again and presses back against him, just a little. Tom pulls the sheet and quilt up over them, curving himself tightly against Dougie’s back.
“Night,” Dougie says, quiet and soft, and Tom can hear the tinge of sleepiness in his voice, imagines his eyes closed, eyelashes against the curve of his cheeks.
“Night, Dougie,” Gio says, almost a whisper. Her thumb brushes feather soft over the side of Tom’s hand.
“Goodnight,” Tom says, and closes his eyes.
McFly (Tom/Dougie/Giovanna)
1,884 words, pg, third person. I've wanted to write this pairing for a long while, and this was a scene I just couldn't get out of my head. Enjoy! ♥
Tom’s mobile wakes him up at 3:30 AM, ringing loudly from the bedside table.
Tom’s mobile wakes him up at 3:30 AM, ringing loudly from the bedside table. It’s Dougie’s ring tone, some Blink song he’d programmed into Tom’s phone without asking, and Tom’s never bothered to change it. It’s easier just being able to identify when Dougie calls - the only reason he answers the phone at all, right now, is that he knows Dougie’s on the other end.
He pulls away from Gio, rolling over to reach for his mobile, scooting up until he’s sitting and flipping it open in the same motion.
“H’lo?” he asks, voice still thick with sleep, and Gio turns over to look at him, her eyebrows raised, hair falling tangled and sleep-mussed over half of her face. Dougie, he mouths, and can see the worry soften her eyes. She props herself up on one arm and waits.
“Tom?” Dougie is hesitant, and even if the hour wasn’t an indication, his tone would be - Tom’s careful to keep any hint of annoyance or worry out of his voice.
“Dougs? What’s wrong?” Gio’s hand slides around the back of Tom’s neck, and she leans in to hear, her cheek pressed against his, warm breath against the side of his face.
“Is Gio there?” Dougie asks, instead of answering, and Tom smiles a little. Not that bad, then.
“She’s here,” Tom says, and then Gio gently takes the phone from him.
“Dougie?” She asks, her voice soft and lower than usual. Tom just watches her face while she talks to Dougie, the lines of her smile that he always wants to kiss until he can’t breathe. She’s calm and careful on the phone with Dougie in a way Tom can’t always manage - he’s high strung, and he knows it. He will never not be grateful for her. “Tom won’t mind,” she’s saying, and Tom can hear Dougie in his head, saying are you sure, Gio? Really?, the way that he always seems to, and then Gio says, “Yes, I’m sure,” turning her smile on Tom. White teeth and the warm spread of her mouth, and he has to bite his lip to keep from interrupting, saying something probably tactless and too harsh. Tom doesn’t know why Dougie still feels the need to ask, and he’s not sure how to fix it so that he doesn’t anymore. Tom doesn’t want Dougie to ask, is the thing - Tom doesn’t want Dougie to doubt them.
“It’s always fine,” he says, instead, quietly, and Gio mouths, I know. Tom leans his head on her shoulder. He can feel her breathe in and out beneath his skin.
“We’ll be here,” she says, into the phone. “Giving you back to Tom, now, okay?” Tom holds his hand out, and doesn’t move his chin from Gio’s shoulder, just puts the speaker up to his ear.
“I don’t mind, idiot, not ever,” he says, mildly. Dougie makes a noise Tom can’t quite interpret - part laugh, part something else.
“Okay,” Dougie says. Tom’s not sure if Dougie believes him or not, but he lets it rest. No reason to upset him any more then he already is. “I’ll see you in a minute.”
Tom hangs up the mobile, and puts it carefully back on the nightstand. Gio turns so that she can wrap her arms around his shoulders and kiss him on the forehead, her lips soft and slightly wet.
“He’ll be right over,” Tom says, curling up next to her. It’ll take Dougie about five minutes to get dressed and another five to walk to their house, so they don’t have long to wait. Tom remembers the conversation they had, last time, after Dougie left in the morning to change his clothes and shower - the way she’d said, what would you think about if - and he’d said, yes, yeah, without even needing her to finish. She’d pushed him down against the mattress, straddling his hips and smiling with her hair hanging down into his face, and she’d said, next time, kissing him, and he couldn’t do anything but agree and push up against her.
Gio’s body is soft against his side, her nightshirt an old football jersey Tom had gotten as a joke present from Danny two years ago - it is thin, now, with constant use and many washings, smooth against Tom’s bare arm and side. Gio sighs, and pushes her hair out of her face with a careless hand. Tom thinks he loves her more here, tucked up with him in their bed, than he does anywhere else. Here, with her tangled hair and sleepy voice, her half-lidded eyes and curved smile. He thinks, I’m so lucky, and it’s only the sound of Dougie unlocking the front door that keeps him from saying it out loud. He’s here in less time than Tom had thought, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.
Tom can hear the soft thwack of flip-flops as Dougie enters the house, the slight thud of them hitting the floor in the entranceway as he slides them off, the soft shuffle of his feet on the stairs, and then he appears in the hallway. He’s wearing blue checked pyjama pants that curl over his bare toes, just a tad too long, and an old t-shirt, worn from use- there’s a hole under one arm, another near the collar, and the decal on the front is almost completely faded.
Dougie curls a hand around the doorframe, small fingers clutching at the white wood. He’s biting his bottom lip, looking as uncertain as ever, as uncertain as he always does and it makes Tom’s heart twist in his chest, sharp and tight. Gio’s hand presses firm and stable against the small of his back, and Tom draws in a quick breath.
“Doug,” he starts, but doesn’t finish. Instead, he just holds out his hand for Dougie to take, if he wants. Tom hopes he does. Dougie looks almost like he’s going to say no - like he’s going to back through the doorway and go back home. Like he thinks he shouldn’t be here.
Tom doesn’t want him to be anywhere else.
“Please,” Tom says. “Dougie.” Gio’s hand is still on his back, fingers tracing lightly, calming, and Dougie’s eyes snap up to meet his, surprise clear on his face. He takes four steps into the bedroom and grabs Tom’s hand, still biting his lip, hair in his eyes. Tom’s always surprised by how small his hands are, almost like Gio’s, and Tom tugs him forward, until his knees hit the edge of the bed. Dougie climbs up, sitting on top of the covers, his ridiculous pyjama bottoms completely covering his feet, and Tom can’t make himself let go. Dougie sucks in a huge breath, looking down at his knees; he doesn’t talk until Gio touches his cheek with her free hand.
“I - it was the running dream again. It - wasn’t that bad tonight,” Dougie says, finally, and he looks almost defiant, daring them to suggest anything else. “Not like it is sometimes. I should’ve just - if I’d stayed home, it would only be, like, an hour before I could sleep again.” Not like the really bad nights, he doesn’t say. Neither Tom nor Gio need him to - they’ve seen the after effects. It’s disturbing, the days when Dougie’s too tired to even pretend to be normal, the dark shadows under his eyes and the firm press of his lips, like he’s too exhausted to smile. Those days still scare Tom, sometimes, but they make him angry with himself more often. He knows he can help, so why hasn’t he?
“You can stay here whenever you want,” Gio says, her voice soft, and Tom hopes that maybe, maybe Dougie will believe Gio when he won’t believe Tom. There’s steel in her voice, under the surface, no-nonsense. “We like having you here.”
Dougie shrugs fluidly, and Gio makes an irritated noise, leaning forward to kiss Dougie on the lips, short and chaste. Dougie looks up from his knees, then, eyes wide with surprise, but Gio just says,
“We don’t tell you things that aren’t true.”
“Yeah, arsehole,” Tom says, squeezing Dougie’s hand. From the expression on Dougie’s face, Tom would guess he’d forgotten he was still holding onto Tom. He still doesn’t pull away, and Tom counts this as a success, warm skin and rough calluses against his fingers. “Now get under the covers and get back to sleep. We have an interview in the morning.”
“I don’t get it,” Dougie says, his voice quiet, but he moves where they push him, lying down in the middle of the mattress. They’ve done this before, let Dougie sleep with them when he’s too scared to sleep by himself - enough times that Tom has lost count, actually, and they’ve never been anything but comforting. Warm bodies at Dougie’s sides to keep him safe, to stay with him long enough to let him sleep. Tonight, though, Tom’s too tired to be platonic, not when he and Gio want Dougie to stay here, not when he’s so tired of pretending otherwise. He presses himself up against Dougie’s back, the bare skin of his chest against the worn cotton of Dougie’s t-shirt, watching Gio over the curve of Dougie’s slight shoulders. He nudges at the back of Dougie’s neck with his nose, smelling the remnants of shampoo and boy sweat; from the way they’re touching, he can feel Dougie shiver.
Gio lets one arm drape over Dougie’s hip, and Tom tangles his fingers with hers, the soft flannel of Dougie’s pyjamas against his palm.
“What is there to get?” Gio asks once they’re settled, her lips grazing to top of Dougie’s cheekbone, her eyes meeting Tom’s over Dougie’s head. Tom smiles against Dougie’s neck. “We want you here, for as long as you want to be here.”
Tom can see the muscles in Dougie’s jaw work like he’s trying to talk, thinking of what to say, but he just turns his head slightly and kisses Gio on the lips again, soft and only a little less chaste than the one earlier. Tom chuckles - he can feel the rush of Dougie’s pulse against his mouth, steady and fast. He scrapes his teeth there, lightly, just to feel Dougie shiver again, and Gio’s fingers tighten on his. He wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t mind kissing the back of Dougie’s neck instead, tasting the salt on the skin there. He’ll get his chance again. For now, he’s not rushing this.
“Tom -” Dougie says, his voice breathy and low. Tom wishes he could see Dougie’s face just then - he wonders if he’d see confusion or desire or both, something else entirely. He imagines the blush staining Dougie’s cheeks and noses at his neck again, feels Dougie breathe in.
“Sleep,” he says, voice soft, certain. “We have a long day tomorrow.”
Dougie shudders again and presses back against him, just a little. Tom pulls the sheet and quilt up over them, curving himself tightly against Dougie’s back.
“Night,” Dougie says, quiet and soft, and Tom can hear the tinge of sleepiness in his voice, imagines his eyes closed, eyelashes against the curve of his cheeks.
“Night, Dougie,” Gio says, almost a whisper. Her thumb brushes feather soft over the side of Tom’s hand.
“Goodnight,” Tom says, and closes his eyes.