Fic: See My Heart Is Black
title: See My Heart Is Black
pairing: Adam/Tommy
rating: R
words: 1760
warning: darkfic, supernatural... something, dubcon
summary: Lights flicker. Tommy changes.
disclaimer: Very untrue. Don't google yourself. Don't pass this along to anyone involved.
a/n: title from Paint It Black. I like the Vanessa Carlton version but of course it's originally by the Rolling Stones.
on a03
Wednesday
The bathroom light flickers. It’s dim anyway; Adam doesn’t like fluorescents. The lights stay off for half a second, longer than just a power surge, and Tommy pulls the eyeliner pencil away from his face. He looks around the bathroom-the shadows seem longer than before-then back in the mirror to finish his makeup.
He gasps.
His eyes are black. Not just around his eyes, where his makeup was only half-finished anyway, but his entire eye. No white showing at all. Tommy stands very still, panting, and leans in closer to the mirror. He doesn’t dare blink.
The lights flicker again, a quick on-off-on that’s definitely too long for a power surge. It breaks Tommy’s stare. He blinks.
His eyes are normal again.
He drops the pencil and it clatters into the sink while he reaches for the mirror to paw at his reflection. His skin looks the same, and it feels the same when he touches his cheek. His eyes look okay now, dark irises surrounded by white, a little bloodshot from too much partying and too little sleep.
“Tommy, we’re gonna be late!” Adam shouts from the bedroom. Tommy calls back that he’s almost ready, then hurriedly finishes his makeup. He doesn’t tell Adam about what he saw.
Friday
The lights go out for a few seconds in a public bathroom while Tommy’s washing his hands at the sink. There’s a guy behind him at the urinal, and he notices too, so Tommy’s pretty sure it isn’t a hallucination this time.
It’s not quite as shocking to see himself with black eyes, but it still gives Tommy the creeps. He blinks hard, rubs his eyes, and the lights go out again. When they come back on, Tommy’s clutching the sink and coughing like he’s about to vomit.
“You alright, man?” the guy asks.
Tommy glances at his reflection. Brown eyes, smeared eyeliner, sweat glistening on the bridge of his nose. Normal. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Sunday
They have a real power outage around noon, just as Tommy’s stepping into the shower. He waits, hot water pounding down on one shoulder, and when it doesn’t come back on after a few seconds, he ducks all the way under the spray and starts washing his hair by feel. Adam knocks on the door while he’s rinsing out shampoo.
“You alright in there? I’m gonna go find a flashlight for you.”
“I’m cool,” Tommy replies loudly. “I’ll be out in a second.”
When he’s finished, he gropes around for his towel and pats himself dry. He can hear Adam rummaging around in the bedroom and opens the door. As soon as his hand touches the handle, the lights come back on.
“I guess you don’t need the flashlight anymore,” Adam says, holding it up as he turns around. The smile slides off his face when he meets Tommy’s eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks slowly.
“Yeah?” He glances down at himself but sees nothing by pale skin and tattoos. Normal.
“Tommy, look at me.”
Tommy looks back up and gasps. He claps his hands over his eyes and rubs them hard with his palms. “No, no, no-”
“Tommy-”
The lights go out. The sun is still shining through the windows, and the blackout only lasts a few seconds this time. Adam comes up to him and grabs his chin, forcing his face up. He peers closely at Tommy’s eyes.
“What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know.”
Monday
Tommy’s putting on his makeup the next morning when it happens again. It’s only a brief flicker of the lights this time, subtle enough that it might only be a power surge, but Tommy’s staring at his eyes the entire time. He sees the change.
Blackness sweeps out from his pupils, overtaking his irises and then the whites of his eyes, but this time it doesn’t stop there. Black liquid leaks out the inside corners of his eyes like ink, like teardrops settling on either side of his nose.
Tommy’s hand shakes as he reaches up to wipe it away. It feels like a tear, and it smears across his skin like watercolor paint. It stains dark circles under his eyes.
“Adam?” There’s no reply. “Can you come here for a minute?”
“Hold on, I’m-”
“Adam, c’mere.”
He hears the sulky clomping of Adam’s boots on the floor and when Adam comes into the bathroom, he’s holding his phone to his ear. He drops it when he sees Tommy’s face.
“Baby, what’s going on?” he asks in a shaky voice.
“I don’t know, but I’m kind of freaking out.”
More blackness leaks out of his eyes. It drips down his face, and it feels like he’s sobbing, but he isn’t. He wipes it with his hands and it leaves streaks across his nose and cheeks. A drop slides down to the corner of his lips and he licks at it automatically. It feels warm on his skin but it tastes like cold, like he’s licking at an ice cube.
“Tommy?”
The lights flicker again, for longer this time, and Tommy’s eyes return to normal. The blackness remains on his cheeks and no matter how hard he scrubs, it doesn’t disappear completely. Even with makeup remover, the dusky shadows remain under his eyes.
Tuesday
Tommy lies on top of Adam, straddling his waist and combing his fingers through Adam’s hair as they kiss. It’s the middle of the day and for once, Adam isn’t running off to meetings or lunch dates or appearances, and Tommy convinced him to stay home.
“So much more fun than shopping,” he murmurs into Adam’s mouth, then breaks out into laughter when Adam agrees by digging his fingers into Tommy’s sides. Tommy clenches his eyes shut and thrashes around, squirming away from Adam’s evil fingers, but when he sits up, Adam follows him.
“Definitely more fun,” Adam says. He stops tickling in favor of more kissing, and now that they’re sitting up, he can get his fist in Tommy’s hair to pull his head back and expose his throat. Tommy moans his appreciation for Adam’s tongue and goes limp in Adam’s arms.
“Yeah, baby, c’mere,” Adam whispers. He fits their lips together and pushes his tongue into Tommy’s mouth. They kiss-Adam kisses him-for a while longer before Tommy leans back to gasp for air. He opens his eyes.
Adam jerks away. “Tommy.”
“No, c’mon,” Tommy moans. He drags Adam close again, holding him still with a firm hand on the back of neck, and kisses him. He doesn’t get why Adam’s struggling-that isn’t a game they play. It’s less of a kiss this time and more of a fight. Tommy tries to stay close, tries to keep Adam close, and Adam pushes at him and twists and bites, and that’s when Tommy finally lets him go.
He falls backwards to the bed, his mouth open on a satisfied gasp. There’s blood in his mouth, he can feel it staining his lower lip.
“Tommy,” Adam says shakily. “Tommy what’s going on?”
“Do it again,” Tommy breathes. He licks at the blood in his mouth. It’s a lot of blood for a tiny little cut; it’s leaking out and dripping down his chin. He wipes it absently with the back of his hand.
“Tommy.”
Tommy sighs and sits up. Adam leans away from him. “What’s wrong?”
Adam’s gaze drops down to Tommy’s hand, so Tommy looks too. There’s a black streak there. This time he sees the lights flicker. One look back at Adam’s face tells him his eyes are back to normal, but his hand is still black and his lip is still wet.
“What the hell is this?” he asks helplessly.
Wednesday
It’s late. Adam’s sleeping. The curtains are pulled back and moonlight floods the room, and Adam looks so pale. His back is exposed to his waist, and the freckles on his shoulders look like a mottled shadow. Tommy can’t sleep. He sits beside Adam, legs crossed, and fiddles with the different tools on Adam’s Swiss Army Knife. He likes the corkscrew.
He can’t feel the change physically, but this time, he somehow senses it, like a coldness creeping into his chest. He digs the point of the corkscrew into the pad of his index finger.
Inky liquid wells up instead of blood. It drips down his finger, thinner than blood, and keeps going as his finger continues to bleed. It runs across his palm and down his wrist and he loses track of it in the darkness of his tattoos.
Tommy brings his finger to Adam’s shoulder and touches him gently. He leaves a black streak from one shoulderblade to the other, then another down the length of Adam’s spine. He keeps drawing patterns, filling in his canvas like he used to smear Isaac’s chest with gold body paint. When he’s finished, he licks his finger.
It doesn’t taste like blood anymore; there’s no coppery tang. It tastes like the black tears, like cold water. He keeps sucking the liquid from his finger, suddenly parched. The coldness seeps into his mouth, lays heavy on his tongue, and Tommy lets out a quiet moan.
Adam wakes up. He rolls over, searching for Tommy, and blinks a few times. The sleepiness clears from his eyes and his body tenses. He opens his mouth to speak but Tommy covers it quickly with his hand. Adam latches onto his wrist, anger flashing in his eyes.
“I love you,” Tommy whispers.
He moves his hand and kisses Adam quickly. He has to keep his hand on Adam’s cheek to hold him still for it. When he sits up, Adam struggles again.
Tommy pushes his index finger into Adam’s mouth. He doesn’t have to tell Adam to taste; Adam sucks the black blood from the cut automatically, like he craves it as much as Tommy did a few minutes ago. Tommy can feel the blood being pulled from his body. It’s a connection between them, something physical and real and exciting. He clutches Adam’s jaw with his other fingers and Adam sucks harder, cheeks hollowing.
Adam’s eyes slip closed as he moans. He clutches Tommy’s wrist again, but this time it’s to keep him here, not push him away.
“I love you,” Tommy says again, dazed.
“I love you too,” Adam replies. His voice is low and smooth, even though he just woke up. Tommy pulls his hand away slowly and Adam lets him go, blinking up at Tommy again.
Adam’s eyes shine black.
Tommy smiles.
fin.
pairing: Adam/Tommy
rating: R
words: 1760
warning: darkfic, supernatural... something, dubcon
summary: Lights flicker. Tommy changes.
disclaimer: Very untrue. Don't google yourself. Don't pass this along to anyone involved.
a/n: title from Paint It Black. I like the Vanessa Carlton version but of course it's originally by the Rolling Stones.
on a03
Wednesday
The bathroom light flickers. It’s dim anyway; Adam doesn’t like fluorescents. The lights stay off for half a second, longer than just a power surge, and Tommy pulls the eyeliner pencil away from his face. He looks around the bathroom-the shadows seem longer than before-then back in the mirror to finish his makeup.
He gasps.
His eyes are black. Not just around his eyes, where his makeup was only half-finished anyway, but his entire eye. No white showing at all. Tommy stands very still, panting, and leans in closer to the mirror. He doesn’t dare blink.
The lights flicker again, a quick on-off-on that’s definitely too long for a power surge. It breaks Tommy’s stare. He blinks.
His eyes are normal again.
He drops the pencil and it clatters into the sink while he reaches for the mirror to paw at his reflection. His skin looks the same, and it feels the same when he touches his cheek. His eyes look okay now, dark irises surrounded by white, a little bloodshot from too much partying and too little sleep.
“Tommy, we’re gonna be late!” Adam shouts from the bedroom. Tommy calls back that he’s almost ready, then hurriedly finishes his makeup. He doesn’t tell Adam about what he saw.
Friday
The lights go out for a few seconds in a public bathroom while Tommy’s washing his hands at the sink. There’s a guy behind him at the urinal, and he notices too, so Tommy’s pretty sure it isn’t a hallucination this time.
It’s not quite as shocking to see himself with black eyes, but it still gives Tommy the creeps. He blinks hard, rubs his eyes, and the lights go out again. When they come back on, Tommy’s clutching the sink and coughing like he’s about to vomit.
“You alright, man?” the guy asks.
Tommy glances at his reflection. Brown eyes, smeared eyeliner, sweat glistening on the bridge of his nose. Normal. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Sunday
They have a real power outage around noon, just as Tommy’s stepping into the shower. He waits, hot water pounding down on one shoulder, and when it doesn’t come back on after a few seconds, he ducks all the way under the spray and starts washing his hair by feel. Adam knocks on the door while he’s rinsing out shampoo.
“You alright in there? I’m gonna go find a flashlight for you.”
“I’m cool,” Tommy replies loudly. “I’ll be out in a second.”
When he’s finished, he gropes around for his towel and pats himself dry. He can hear Adam rummaging around in the bedroom and opens the door. As soon as his hand touches the handle, the lights come back on.
“I guess you don’t need the flashlight anymore,” Adam says, holding it up as he turns around. The smile slides off his face when he meets Tommy’s eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks slowly.
“Yeah?” He glances down at himself but sees nothing by pale skin and tattoos. Normal.
“Tommy, look at me.”
Tommy looks back up and gasps. He claps his hands over his eyes and rubs them hard with his palms. “No, no, no-”
“Tommy-”
The lights go out. The sun is still shining through the windows, and the blackout only lasts a few seconds this time. Adam comes up to him and grabs his chin, forcing his face up. He peers closely at Tommy’s eyes.
“What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know.”
Monday
Tommy’s putting on his makeup the next morning when it happens again. It’s only a brief flicker of the lights this time, subtle enough that it might only be a power surge, but Tommy’s staring at his eyes the entire time. He sees the change.
Blackness sweeps out from his pupils, overtaking his irises and then the whites of his eyes, but this time it doesn’t stop there. Black liquid leaks out the inside corners of his eyes like ink, like teardrops settling on either side of his nose.
Tommy’s hand shakes as he reaches up to wipe it away. It feels like a tear, and it smears across his skin like watercolor paint. It stains dark circles under his eyes.
“Adam?” There’s no reply. “Can you come here for a minute?”
“Hold on, I’m-”
“Adam, c’mere.”
He hears the sulky clomping of Adam’s boots on the floor and when Adam comes into the bathroom, he’s holding his phone to his ear. He drops it when he sees Tommy’s face.
“Baby, what’s going on?” he asks in a shaky voice.
“I don’t know, but I’m kind of freaking out.”
More blackness leaks out of his eyes. It drips down his face, and it feels like he’s sobbing, but he isn’t. He wipes it with his hands and it leaves streaks across his nose and cheeks. A drop slides down to the corner of his lips and he licks at it automatically. It feels warm on his skin but it tastes like cold, like he’s licking at an ice cube.
“Tommy?”
The lights flicker again, for longer this time, and Tommy’s eyes return to normal. The blackness remains on his cheeks and no matter how hard he scrubs, it doesn’t disappear completely. Even with makeup remover, the dusky shadows remain under his eyes.
Tuesday
Tommy lies on top of Adam, straddling his waist and combing his fingers through Adam’s hair as they kiss. It’s the middle of the day and for once, Adam isn’t running off to meetings or lunch dates or appearances, and Tommy convinced him to stay home.
“So much more fun than shopping,” he murmurs into Adam’s mouth, then breaks out into laughter when Adam agrees by digging his fingers into Tommy’s sides. Tommy clenches his eyes shut and thrashes around, squirming away from Adam’s evil fingers, but when he sits up, Adam follows him.
“Definitely more fun,” Adam says. He stops tickling in favor of more kissing, and now that they’re sitting up, he can get his fist in Tommy’s hair to pull his head back and expose his throat. Tommy moans his appreciation for Adam’s tongue and goes limp in Adam’s arms.
“Yeah, baby, c’mere,” Adam whispers. He fits their lips together and pushes his tongue into Tommy’s mouth. They kiss-Adam kisses him-for a while longer before Tommy leans back to gasp for air. He opens his eyes.
Adam jerks away. “Tommy.”
“No, c’mon,” Tommy moans. He drags Adam close again, holding him still with a firm hand on the back of neck, and kisses him. He doesn’t get why Adam’s struggling-that isn’t a game they play. It’s less of a kiss this time and more of a fight. Tommy tries to stay close, tries to keep Adam close, and Adam pushes at him and twists and bites, and that’s when Tommy finally lets him go.
He falls backwards to the bed, his mouth open on a satisfied gasp. There’s blood in his mouth, he can feel it staining his lower lip.
“Tommy,” Adam says shakily. “Tommy what’s going on?”
“Do it again,” Tommy breathes. He licks at the blood in his mouth. It’s a lot of blood for a tiny little cut; it’s leaking out and dripping down his chin. He wipes it absently with the back of his hand.
“Tommy.”
Tommy sighs and sits up. Adam leans away from him. “What’s wrong?”
Adam’s gaze drops down to Tommy’s hand, so Tommy looks too. There’s a black streak there. This time he sees the lights flicker. One look back at Adam’s face tells him his eyes are back to normal, but his hand is still black and his lip is still wet.
“What the hell is this?” he asks helplessly.
Wednesday
It’s late. Adam’s sleeping. The curtains are pulled back and moonlight floods the room, and Adam looks so pale. His back is exposed to his waist, and the freckles on his shoulders look like a mottled shadow. Tommy can’t sleep. He sits beside Adam, legs crossed, and fiddles with the different tools on Adam’s Swiss Army Knife. He likes the corkscrew.
He can’t feel the change physically, but this time, he somehow senses it, like a coldness creeping into his chest. He digs the point of the corkscrew into the pad of his index finger.
Inky liquid wells up instead of blood. It drips down his finger, thinner than blood, and keeps going as his finger continues to bleed. It runs across his palm and down his wrist and he loses track of it in the darkness of his tattoos.
Tommy brings his finger to Adam’s shoulder and touches him gently. He leaves a black streak from one shoulderblade to the other, then another down the length of Adam’s spine. He keeps drawing patterns, filling in his canvas like he used to smear Isaac’s chest with gold body paint. When he’s finished, he licks his finger.
It doesn’t taste like blood anymore; there’s no coppery tang. It tastes like the black tears, like cold water. He keeps sucking the liquid from his finger, suddenly parched. The coldness seeps into his mouth, lays heavy on his tongue, and Tommy lets out a quiet moan.
Adam wakes up. He rolls over, searching for Tommy, and blinks a few times. The sleepiness clears from his eyes and his body tenses. He opens his mouth to speak but Tommy covers it quickly with his hand. Adam latches onto his wrist, anger flashing in his eyes.
“I love you,” Tommy whispers.
He moves his hand and kisses Adam quickly. He has to keep his hand on Adam’s cheek to hold him still for it. When he sits up, Adam struggles again.
Tommy pushes his index finger into Adam’s mouth. He doesn’t have to tell Adam to taste; Adam sucks the black blood from the cut automatically, like he craves it as much as Tommy did a few minutes ago. Tommy can feel the blood being pulled from his body. It’s a connection between them, something physical and real and exciting. He clutches Adam’s jaw with his other fingers and Adam sucks harder, cheeks hollowing.
Adam’s eyes slip closed as he moans. He clutches Tommy’s wrist again, but this time it’s to keep him here, not push him away.
“I love you,” Tommy says again, dazed.
“I love you too,” Adam replies. His voice is low and smooth, even though he just woke up. Tommy pulls his hand away slowly and Adam lets him go, blinking up at Tommy again.
Adam’s eyes shine black.
Tommy smiles.
fin.