FIC: Breakfast in Bed - 1/1, NFL RPS, PG, TB/MC/ML
Title: Breakfast in Bed
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: NFL RPF
Pairing: Tom Brady/Matt Cassel/Matt Leinart
Rating: PG
Word count: 684
Summary: Sundays are game days, but a bye week is something special
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Author's Notes: The 1st day of Christmas for azewewish because 1) she asked and 2) I needed something fluffy after last night's news regarding Paul Walker.
The first thing that filters through the sleep fog in Tom's brain is the smell of coffee. The second is that body plastered against his back is Matt. He knows it's Matt because the covers are over them both, pulled up to his shoulders, creating a warm, soft cocoon. Matty's a certified blanket hog, so if the comforter is actually spread across the bed, he's not in there with them.
That fact makes Tom frown.
He opens his eyes and jerks, the back of his skull connecting with Matt's forehead (which earns him a very grumpy 'what the fuck'), but Tom is pretty sure he can't be blamed for it. "The hell," he says, voice raspy with sleep, as he glares at Matty. Who is sitting on the floor at the side of the bed, his chin on the edge of the mattress, wide grin firmly in place as he watches Tom. "Fucking freak."
"You love me," Leinart sing-songs, still grinning as he unfolds himself and stands.
The source of the coffee smell becomes obvious when Tom's eyes land two large steaming mugs sitting on the bedside table. "I do if that's for me."
"One is." Leinart looks over his shoulder as he walks across the room. "The other's for Sleeping Beauty there."
"Fuck off," Matt mumbles into the back of Tom's neck. His arm tightens around Tom's waist when he moves.
"And here I brought breakfast," Leinart says with an eyebrow waggle for Tom.
"Fuck off," Matt repeats, snuggling closer. "Doughnuts don't qualify as breakfast."
"Um." Tom stares at the tray that Matty picks up from the dresser, his eyes wide as he takes in eggs and bacon and a carafe of orange juice and is that...fuck, it is. A platter of waffles. "Baby, it's not doughnuts."
"No?" Matt shifts, then his chin comes to rest on Tom's shoulder. "Waffles?"
"None for you," Leinart says as he holds the tray out of reach and gives Matt a dirty look. "Fuck off, the man says."
Tom stifles his laughter by turning his face into his pillow. Matty's waffles are nothing short of orgasmic, and Tom knows that Matt will do just about anything to get them. They both will. But Tom's not the one who told Matty to fuck off after the offer of breakfast.
"Matty," Matt says, the wheedling tone making Tom bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep from snorting out a laugh. "I didn't mean -"
"Twice, Matt," Leinart breaks in, with a stern look. "Twice!"
Tom twists to look at Matt, enjoying this far more than he probably should (and he already knows he's going to pay for it later if the look Matt gives him is any indication). Matt just looks at Leinart, using his best puppy dog expression - and they can all agree that he has the best one in the house - and then he honest to God pouts. Tom closes his eyes.
"Would it help if I said I was still asleep?"
Leinart makes a derisive sound, but it's a lost cause. Neither he nor Tom are proof against Matt's puppy eyes. "Maybe I'll let you make it up to me."
"I'll blow you," Matt offers. "Before or after breakfast. Your choice."
Tom looks at Leinart and... Yep, there it is. He's already given in; it's just a matter of verbally confirming it. Tom can't help grinning.
"Both."
One look at Matt's face and Tom rolls into his pillow as a strangled sob of laughter escapes. Leave it to Matty to find the loophole.
"Both?"
"Both," Leinart repeats, finally (finally) coming to the bed with the tray of food. "You said it twice, so I get a blowjob for each time."
"I -"
"Fair's fair," Tom points out, shifting to make room, knowing he's grinning like an idiot and not caring when Matt gives him an absolutely filthy look. Matt backed himself into this corner, and Tom's just going to sit back and reap the rewards.
After all, Matty might be the one getting the blowjobs, but Tom gets to watch. And he's okay with that.
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: NFL RPF
Pairing: Tom Brady/Matt Cassel/Matt Leinart
Rating: PG
Word count: 684
Summary: Sundays are game days, but a bye week is something special
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Author's Notes: The 1st day of Christmas for azewewish because 1) she asked and 2) I needed something fluffy after last night's news regarding Paul Walker.
The first thing that filters through the sleep fog in Tom's brain is the smell of coffee. The second is that body plastered against his back is Matt. He knows it's Matt because the covers are over them both, pulled up to his shoulders, creating a warm, soft cocoon. Matty's a certified blanket hog, so if the comforter is actually spread across the bed, he's not in there with them.
That fact makes Tom frown.
He opens his eyes and jerks, the back of his skull connecting with Matt's forehead (which earns him a very grumpy 'what the fuck'), but Tom is pretty sure he can't be blamed for it. "The hell," he says, voice raspy with sleep, as he glares at Matty. Who is sitting on the floor at the side of the bed, his chin on the edge of the mattress, wide grin firmly in place as he watches Tom. "Fucking freak."
"You love me," Leinart sing-songs, still grinning as he unfolds himself and stands.
The source of the coffee smell becomes obvious when Tom's eyes land two large steaming mugs sitting on the bedside table. "I do if that's for me."
"One is." Leinart looks over his shoulder as he walks across the room. "The other's for Sleeping Beauty there."
"Fuck off," Matt mumbles into the back of Tom's neck. His arm tightens around Tom's waist when he moves.
"And here I brought breakfast," Leinart says with an eyebrow waggle for Tom.
"Fuck off," Matt repeats, snuggling closer. "Doughnuts don't qualify as breakfast."
"Um." Tom stares at the tray that Matty picks up from the dresser, his eyes wide as he takes in eggs and bacon and a carafe of orange juice and is that...fuck, it is. A platter of waffles. "Baby, it's not doughnuts."
"No?" Matt shifts, then his chin comes to rest on Tom's shoulder. "Waffles?"
"None for you," Leinart says as he holds the tray out of reach and gives Matt a dirty look. "Fuck off, the man says."
Tom stifles his laughter by turning his face into his pillow. Matty's waffles are nothing short of orgasmic, and Tom knows that Matt will do just about anything to get them. They both will. But Tom's not the one who told Matty to fuck off after the offer of breakfast.
"Matty," Matt says, the wheedling tone making Tom bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep from snorting out a laugh. "I didn't mean -"
"Twice, Matt," Leinart breaks in, with a stern look. "Twice!"
Tom twists to look at Matt, enjoying this far more than he probably should (and he already knows he's going to pay for it later if the look Matt gives him is any indication). Matt just looks at Leinart, using his best puppy dog expression - and they can all agree that he has the best one in the house - and then he honest to God pouts. Tom closes his eyes.
"Would it help if I said I was still asleep?"
Leinart makes a derisive sound, but it's a lost cause. Neither he nor Tom are proof against Matt's puppy eyes. "Maybe I'll let you make it up to me."
"I'll blow you," Matt offers. "Before or after breakfast. Your choice."
Tom looks at Leinart and... Yep, there it is. He's already given in; it's just a matter of verbally confirming it. Tom can't help grinning.
"Both."
One look at Matt's face and Tom rolls into his pillow as a strangled sob of laughter escapes. Leave it to Matty to find the loophole.
"Both?"
"Both," Leinart repeats, finally (finally) coming to the bed with the tray of food. "You said it twice, so I get a blowjob for each time."
"I -"
"Fair's fair," Tom points out, shifting to make room, knowing he's grinning like an idiot and not caring when Matt gives him an absolutely filthy look. Matt backed himself into this corner, and Tom's just going to sit back and reap the rewards.
After all, Matty might be the one getting the blowjobs, but Tom gets to watch. And he's okay with that.